Dancing about architecture
I've read a couple of works by this author (whom I knew of whilst he was a research student and we were briefly working in the same field) and found them to be well-written and stimulating. This book fits in with both those adjectives, but he's selected a difficult topic, highlighted on the back cover as a set of questions:
* Why have all human cultures made music?
* How do we make sense of musical sound?
* Why does music excite such rich emotion?
These are good questions, but finding answers to them isn't easy, even in the pages of this hefty (450 pp) volume. Beginning with Edgar Varese's definition of music as "organized sound", the author quickly goes beyond that, contending that music is not "acoustic at all" [p34], being something that emerges from a collaboration between the composer, performer and listener.
He then goes into a lot of technical detail about the physics of sound and hearing, how the frequency of the discrete notes in a scale are related to each other, and the pitfalls of the Pythagorean scale, predicated on pitches having simple frequency ratios. This leads to a mismatch between enharmonically equivalent notes (B# and C, for example) by an interval known as the Pythagorean comma; the adjustment of these intervals is known as tempering (as in Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier). In the course of this exposition Ball notes, in an aside, that Newton postulated the seven colours of the rainbow by analogy to the seven notes of the musical scale, while the contraction of gamma and ut - respectively the medieval name for a low G and the first note on the scale - gives rise to our word gamut.
Along with physics, there's a lot of psychology in this book: how we recognize and remember tunes and how they make us feel. This leads to more exposition - for example, he points out how the octave leap in "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" ends on a longer note, as if "the melody waits at the top for the brain to catch up" [p112]. He also notes that most of these big jumps upward (in all of music, not just this song) are followed by a reversal in direction for the melody, but acknowledges that this is because there are more lower notes to choose from, particularly if the singer's range is being considered. We're on less sure ground when trying to work out why music moves us as it does, which can feel like trying to nail jelly to a wall: the best label for "the excitement that you feel when listening to music" on p320 is - well, just that phrase.
He also explores musical trends such as serialism, chromaticism and atonalism, noting however that "good art works not because some theory says it should but because it is embedded in a web of reference and allusion, as well as convention - it takes what we know, and changes it" [p135]. Although his main field of reference is Western Classical music, he takes in more exotic genres (including pop and rock) but, surprisingly, doesn't make much of the distinction between (roughly) songs and tunes. The former can be viewed as the latter plus lyrics, which are - according to a quote I've seen elsewhere but can't find - "a trick to get you to listen to music". Instead, he tries to find "meaning" in music, which leads to suggestions about the emotions of keys - Eb major is said to be "heroic", F major "pastoral", etc - which only served to remind me of that scene in "Spinal Tap" where the hapless keyboard player refers to D minor as "the saddest of all keys".
There's a lot in this stimulating book; if trying to answer those questions ultimately turns out to be a wild goose chase, at least the author has made the journey an interesting one.
Originally reviewed 10 May 2024