Shakespeare posited that music was the language of love. And I agree with that, except music is so much more than that.
The language of anger, the language of hope, the language of pain, of joy. And so on. Did you ever wonder why that is?
Why has music been an integral part of the human experience since the earliest history? Why, even in the most dire landfills of the darkest Africa, do people find ways to make instruments out of garbage then make beautiful music with those instruments?
As is so frequently the case, I have waaaay more questions than answers. But I do know this: Throughout all of human history, through every culture, through every tribe and clan, music is there.
It seems that the first thing humans do, once they find a bite to eat, and a place to lie down, is to figure out how to make music. Every philosopher, every poet, without fail, has expressed an interest in and a reverence for music.
So, it is a given. Music is essential in the human experience.
I don’t know about your growing up years, but I cannot think of my childhood years without thinking in terms of music. Music was always an important part of my life. I like to say, and it’s pretty much true, that every one of my childhood memories has to do with either music or food. Well, I guess that explains a lot.
I can’t even imagine a home without a piano in it. Even when my husband and I were on the road, working for the Holiday Inns, we managed to have a piano in our room. And this was in the days before portable keyboards!
My very earliest memory of my mother was her standing at the stove making chocolate pudding. My second memory is of her sitting a the piano playing and singing out of the hymn book. The very first hymn I remember is her singing “ ’Neath the Shade of the Old Olive Tree.” The first memory took place at the Dr. Forbes Ranch where we lived when I was 2 1/2 to 3 1/2. The second memory was when we lived on Smurr Ave. (3 1/2 to 4 1/2) So this food and music business are dug way deep into my lizard brain.
My earliest memory of music as it pertained to me occurred when I was about 3. In Sunday School class, the teacher asked if anyone knew the song, “The B-I-B-L-E”. Well, I did. So she had me get up and sing it for the class. Then she said something like, “You may to sit down and the whole class will sing it.” Well, excuse me, Ms. Teacher! I sang it right and I sang it good, and I wanted to sing it again. I remember being quite put out that she wanted me to sit down and sing it with the rest of the class. See, once an exhibitionist, always an exhibitionist! I know, I know . . ..some things NEVER change.
All this discussion eventually brings us to “Just what IS music, anyway?” Which then leads to “ . . . that may be music to you, but it’s noise to me!” Just as we’re told that no two blades of grass are the same, nor snowflakes the same, then it follows that no two humans are exactly the same. So then, my logic tells me that music, as it expresses the inner person, is going to be different for different people.
How many times have you heard the thump of a teenagers sub-woofers assaulting your ears from two blocks away? I’ve said it too. “That certainly isn’t music in my book!” And that is exactly right. That is exactly as it should be. If our occidental ears are going to allow other cultures to use the pentatonic scale or microtonalism, then we have to allow that what we (or I) consider noise just might be someone’s music.
OK, now wait a minute before you get your shorts in a twist. Allowing someone their own taste in music is NOT to be confused with being expected to like it. I have attended concerts of traditional music in China; I have attended pow-wows that featured traditional Native American music in Alaska; I have attended a sitar concert (by Ravi Shankar, no less) featuring East Indian music . . . . I can’t say I either liked or appreciated the music in those genres; however, I did and do appreciate the right of anyone else to like what they want.
Oh dear, I guess I have to let those kids like hip-hop if they want to . . . I just want them to stop assaulting MY ears!!
No, I KNOW that my truths are NOT the same for everyone. I know that music is not central to EVERY human’s experiences. I’ve heard that there ARE people who have had no music in their home growing up. I know it must be true .
I just can’t imagine it.
Adrienne Jacoby is a 40-plus-year resident of Shasta County and native-born Californian. She was a teacher of vocal music in the Enterprise Schools for 27 years and has been retired for 11 years.
A musician all her life, she was married to the late Bill Jacoby with whom she formed a locally well -known musical group who prided themselves in playing for weddings, wakes, riots, bar mitzvas and super market openings. And, oh yes … she has two children, J’Anna and Jayson.
