Listening to Music We all listen to music according to our own capacities. But the whole listening process may become clearer if we break it up into parts. In a certain sense we all listen to music on three separate levels. For lack of a better term, one might name these: (1) the sensuous level, (2) the expressive level, (3) the musical level. The only advantage to be gained from mechanically breaking up the listening process into these levels is the clearer view we may have about the way in which we listen. The simplest way of listening to music is to listen for the pleasure of the musical sound itself. That is the sensuous level. It is the level on which we hear music without thinking, without considering it in any way. One turns on the radio while doing something else and absent-mindedly listens to the sound. You may be sitting in a room reading a book. Imagine one note struck on the piano. Immediately that note is enough to change the atmosphere of the room—proving that the sound element in music is powerful and mysterious. The surprising thing is that many people who consider themselves qualified music lovers abuse that level in listening. They go to concerts in order to lose themselves. They use music as an escape from the realities of everyday life. Music allows them to have a chance to dream, dreaming because of music yet never quite listening to it. Yes, the sound appeal of music is a strong and primitive force, but you must not allow it to take hold of the most part of your interest. The sensuous level is an important one in music, a very important one, but it is not the whole story. There is no need to talk further about the sensuous level. Its appeal to human being is self-evident. However, people can be more sensitive to the different kinds of sound stuff as used by various composers. Don't get the idea that the value of music is equal to its sensuous appeal or that the loveliest sounding music is made by the greatest composer. If that were so, Ravel would be a greater creator than Beethoven. The sound element and the usage of sound must be taken into consideration when listening. The second place on which music exists is what I have called the expressive one. Here, immediately, we meet with problems. Composers have a way of staying away from any discussion of music's expressive side. Did not Stravinsky himself claim that his music was an "object," a "thing," with a life of its own, and with no other meaning than its own purely musical existence? This attitude may be due to the fact that so many people have tried to read different meanings into so many pieces. Heaven knows it is difficult enough to say precisely what is the meaning of a piece of music. But that should not lead one to the other extreme of denying to music the right to be "expressive." My own belief is that all music has an expressive power, some more and some less, but that all music has a certain meaning behind the notes and that this meaning behind the notes makes up what the piece is saying, what the piece is about. This whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, "Is there a meaning to music?" My answer to that would be, "Yes." And "Can you state what the meaning is?" My answer to that would be, "No." Simple-minded people will never be satisfied with the answer to the second question. They always want music to have a meaning. The more concrete it is, the better they like it. The more the music reminds them of a train, a storm, a funeral, or any other familiar things, the more expressive it appears to be to them. This popular idea of music's meaning should be discouraged wherever and whenever it is met. Still, the question remains. How close should the music lover wish to determine a meaning of any particular work? No closer than a general idea, I should say. Music expresses, at different moments, peacefulness or excitement, regret or triumph, anger or delight. It expresses each of these moods, and many others, in a variety of subtle differences. It may even express a state of meaning for which there exists no proper word in any language. In that case, musicians often like to say that it has only a purely musical meaning. What they really mean is that no proper word can be found to express the music's meaning. But whatever idea the musician may have, most musical lovers still search for specific words with which to express their musical reactions. That is why they always find Tchaikovsky easier to "understand" than Beethoven. In the first place, it is easier to pin a meaning-word on a Tchaikovsky piece than on a Beethoven one. Much easier. Moreover, with the Russian composer, every time you come back to a piece of his, it almost always says the same thing to you, whereas with Beethoven it is often quite difficult to decide what he is saying. And any musician will tell you that that is why Beethoven is the greater composer—music which always says the same thing to you will soon become dull music, but music whose meaning is slightly different with each hearing has a greater chance of remaining alive. The third level on which music exists is the musical level. Besides the pleasant sound of music and the expressive feeling that it gives off, music does exist in terms of the notes themselves and of their arrangements. Most listeners are not conscious enough of this third level. When the man in the street listens to the "notes themselves" with any degree of concentration, he is most likely to mention the melody. Either he hears pretty melody or he does not, and he generally lets it go at that. Rhythm is likely to gain his attention next, particularly if it seems exciting. But harmony is generally taken for granted, if they are thought of consciously at all. As for music's having a definite form of some kind, that idea seems never to have occurred to him. It is very important for all of us to become more alive to music on its musical level. The intelligent listener must be prepared to increase his awareness of the musical material and what happens to it. He must hear the melodies, the rhythms and the harmonies in a more conscious way. But above all he must, in order to follow the line of the composer's thought, know something of principles of musical form. Listening to all of these elements is listening on the musical level. Let me repeat that I have broken up the three separate levels on which we listen merely for the sake of clarity. Actually, we never listen to one or the other of these levels. What we do is to listen in all three ways at the same time. We do it instinctively. What the reader should strive for, then, is a more active kind of listening. Whether you listen to Mozart or Duke Ellington, you can deepen your understanding of music only by being a more conscious listener—not someone who is just listening, but someone who is listening for something.