Another recycled essay from uni for you. Enjoy.
“You would have to have a steel heart if you weren’t moved by this song.” (http://www.bbc.co.uk/stoke/music/2002/10/paul_singles2.shtml) For a musical work to draw this sort of response, it must be something special. To me, the song that this comment is referring to, couldn’t be any more accurate. The music that moves me does so for a number of reasons. It will have the ability of making me dance, of motivating me, of soothing me and of making me smile. However, there is one thing that music can evoke in me, more commonly than others. That thing is melancholy. Melancholy is defined by Webster’s as being “Characterized by or causing or expressing sadness”. It is also “a feeling of thoughtful sadness and a constitutional tendency to be gloomy and depressed”. (Melancholy 2009) Melancholy is frequently presented in contemporary Western music and it is something to which humans continue to be attracted. This is what I shall be focusing on in this article, specifically my own experiences with one melancholic song.
So what makes a piece of music melancholy? There are several common properties determined to be possessed by ‘sad’ music. They are quieter, lower and slower sounds with longer duration of tones and a darker timbre. (Farr 2008 and Science of Music: Why does sad music sound sad? Exploratorium’s Accidental Scientist. n.d.) When I began dissecting this topic, I made a list of the songs that had a melancholic effect on me. It was quite a long list (this list can be found at the end of the article). For the most part, these songs all possess the previously mentioned traits. So what does this tell us? That I have a depressing taste in music? Or is it something deeper than that? In order to uncover how melancholy music takes hold of me, I have examined my favourite melancholic song, and compared it to two cover versions. The musicological approach I have employed is that of George Pratt. By analysing the effectors, that is the musical elements of the song, we are able to contextualise the effects, or the human response to what is being heard. (1998, 32)
In my nineteen years of musical experiences, there has been one song in particular that without fail provokes an emotional response in me. When I first heard this song, it didn’t matter a whole lot to me. In fact, I hardly noticed the entire album. Fast forward a couple of years and something changed. From what I can remember, I had just had a fight with my mother. I was hurt, upset, and angry. Something compelled me to play the album and one track above all stood out for me. That song was ‘The Scientist’ by Coldplay. The first few times I listened to it, I could not help but to cry. And I mean really cry. This connects with Levitin’s argument regarding placing our trust in the music and musician to transport us. This occurs significantly when we believe the musician is conveying their own vulnerability to us as the listener. (2006, 236-238) As suggested by Levinson, an emotional response is elicited when we allow ourselves to be moved in a receptive manner by the emotion heard. (1997, 228) On an interesting note, the vocals and piano that appear on the album were the first that were recorded. On the same day that the song was written. (Roach 2003, 99; Scaggs 2005 and ShakenStir Interview about A Rush of Blood to the Head 2002) This reveals the level of intensity the song held to the creators.
It was the first song to have such a profound effect on me. When I listen to it now, I can do so without the tears, assuming nothing incredibly emotional is going on in my life. Even so, it does still provoke a response in me that not many other songs can. As a result, it is no longer an “everyday” song. It does not feature on my mp3 player. It is not my ringtone. I do not want to jeopardise the relationship that I have with this piece of music by overplaying it. Even in writing this, I have been avoiding listening to it as much as possible.
For the connection I feel to this song to be understood, there is some background information that must be divulged. In short, my father passed away soon before I turned ten years old. I never knew him very well, and any opportunity to do that was thus removed. The personal context that I have applied the song is unique and effects how I interpret it. (Higgins in Robinson 1997, 97) According to Robinson, individuals interpret music “in terms of its relationship to locations, categories, associations, reflections, and evaluations relevant to the listener”. (Higgins in Robinson 1997, 96) It was not a conscious decision to do that when listening to it; it was something that occurred naturally.
When I listen to this song, I am reminded of the pain I feel because of the situation with my father. Any other emotional events that are occurring in my life at the time are also heightened when I hear it. Despite the feeling of isolation that is often present for me when I listen to ‘The Scientist’, the lyrical content persuades me to believe that I am not alone in this feeling. The location of meaning for me is clearly a personal one. The musical elements are what effect me, rather than the social and cultural contexts. (Dillon 2009b) Earlier this year, I won tickets to the Coldplay concert. To win, you had to name your favourite song and explain why in the usual twenty-five words or less. In case you hadn’t guessed, my entry was with ‘The Scientist’ for the reason that “It makes me cry every time I hear it. Gotta love the joyous melancholy.” Seeing this song performed live is right up there on my list of unforgettable moments. It was as close to perfect as you can get. If you’re wondering whether or not I cried, I didn’t. I did however, come quite close. Not being in favour of crying in public is the only thing that stopped me. However, the emotional connection was there, and it was electric. It felt as if it was taking an eternity, but it was over before too long. Knowing that it would be performed, I had taken a photograph of my father with me. I felt that everything I had ever experienced when hearing this song, I was feeling again simultaneously.
Despite the emotional rollercoaster which is experienced when I hear this song, I continue to listen to it. There must be some explanation for this peculiar behaviour, other than masochism. Sacks explains this theory well. “…there is…a deep and mysterious paradox here, for while such music makes one experience pain and grief more intensely, it brings solace and consolation at the same time.” (2007, 301) So I’ve provided a brief rundown as to how the song makes me feel. Now let’s have a look at why it does this.
I don’t have a technical musical knowledge. Rather, my strengths lay with language, so the first thing I normally connect to is the lyrics. The most powerful aspect of the lyrics for me is the use of personal pronouns throughout. This has the effect of drawing the listener into the song. Although you know that it was not written about you, it allows familiarity with the song and opens up a quasi-dialogue with the singer. This is similar to what has been argued by Budd. He states that a communication occurs between the composer and the listener when the composition is heard with understanding. In these instances the listener is having the experience the composer intended them to have. (1985, 152) On the other hand I would suggest that it is impossible for the listener to ever truly know the intention of the composer; we merely believe we do.
The lyrics are also non-specific. This means that any listener can have their own connection with the song, regardless of their own personal contexts’. There is heavy use of metaphor and imagery, which encourages listeners to use their imagination, which also connects with the idea of personal contexts. (Dillon 2009b) As argued by Kivy, when we are moved by the emotive power of a piece, we hear it as having those emotional properties. (2002, 111) Further, there is the use of a falsetto at several points throughout the song, which further develops the emotion. According to Miller, the falsetto allows male singers “to articulate and communicate a frenzy of precise emotions to the auditor”. (2003) The final fifty-eight seconds do not have lyrics. Rather they are the vocalist’s repeated, impassioned howls of “oh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh”. This human utterance is a universal sound, which would permit a person of any culture to comprehend the overall message of the song. (Dillon 2009a) By adding this element, the song is made even more accessible to listeners. This distinctive human noise is one that portrays the anguish embedded within it, something which words are not as effective at conveying. I believe that is the combination of these elements which increases not only the melancholy, but in turn, the spirituality.
The particular way in which the instrumentation has been arranged, also contributes to the overall theme of the song. The first one minute and fifty seconds of the song consists only of vocals and piano. At this point the acoustic lead guitar joins in. At two minutes and seventeen seconds, the rhythm section kicks in followed by the electric guitar at three minutes and forty-three seconds. At the four minutes and eleven seconds mark, the “oh ooh” section that was previously mentioned commences. Then at four minutes and forty-eight seconds the rhythm section fades out leaving just the piano and guitar and one final, lingering “oh ooh”. The main instrumental interlude and the “oh ooh” sections allow the listener ‘room to move’ within the song, due to the absence of lyrics. This is effective at achieving a sense of intimacy for the listener. When it comes to ‘The Scientist’, I believe that Sacks argument can be applied. He states that music calls on both the emotional and intellectual parts of our nature. When listening to a piece it is common that we are moved by the song whilst appreciating the formal structure of the composition. (2007, 285) Despite my ignorance of the technical musicality, I am enraptured by it nonetheless.
In order to establish if the strength of my connection to the lyrics translates to other versions, I analysed two covers of the song. I was biased going into this experiment due to my love of the original song, as well as my apprehension towards cover versions as a personal rule. These biases were added to tenfold with the first version I listened to. Avril Lavigne, who I am not a fan of, performed it, performed it. Lavigne brought her distinct voice and vocal style to the piece. In this instance, these attributes caused my low tolerance for it. In terms of my emotional response to the piece, there was nothing. Part of this would be due to the Hawthorne effect, which states that individuals being studied may alter their actions “simply because of the added attention received”. (Rice in Bartol et al 2008, 52) However, the majority of this response would be due to my connection to the original, which includes the manner in which the band performs it and it is sung. This is commonly referred to as the sonic narrative. (Dillon 2009c) Those elements are the triggers that my brain recognises and have been steeped in emotional relevance. My reception of the song was not similar in any way to hearing the original, and I would not choose to listen to it again.
The second version was by Natasha Bedingfield. Her interpretation of the song saw her take some small liberties with the lyrics. I found this version more pleasing to listen to compared with the Avril Lavigne cover. This is because I have enjoyed some of Bedingfield’s music prior to this investigation. However, I was still underwhelmed by it. The emotional response elicited was nowhere near the same level experienced when I hear the original. Upon hearing this version, it was my previous familiarity with the lyrics that caused me to tolerate it. (Levitin 2006, 236) In saying that, I wouldn’t willingly listen to it, as with the Lavigne version. Neither of these does anything remarkably different to the song. As such, if a musician were to create a cover that did do something drastically different to the original, my reception of it could shift entirely.
The continuing connection I feel to this song probably stems from hearing it in my early adolescent years. These are considered to be “times of self-discovery, and as a consequence, they were emotionally charged”. As it is a time when we begin to forge our own identity, we carry significant aspects of it with us, though to later years in life. (Levitin 2006, 225) This exploration of identity is one that is central to the study of spirituality and music. Identity has been described as “a set of ‘meanings’ applied to the self in a social role or situation defining what it means to be who one is.” (Burke in Andes 1998, 215) When this concept is placed in the context of the music I connect to, it becomes clearer, why I have such a low tolerance for any other musicians interfering with it. From this analysis, I would assert that the musical elements of the original are what provoke a response in me. My familiarity and emotional history that I have connected to the original piece outweigh those of the cover versions. This, combined with my biases concerning cover versions, has meant that the original maintains its spiritual significance to me.
Melancholic experiences of music are something unique to the individual. Due to several major occurrences in my life, I find myself drawn frequently to sounds that are more sombre. There is something that occurs between an individual and a piece of music, which words cannot describe. Although we can try to analyse it and develop hypotheses, there will always be an indeterminable element. I for one hope I never solve this mystery. I’d rather just revel in the joyous melancholy.
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