Why play music?

            As a flutist, there are certain questions I answer on a weekly basis. It is mainly non-musicians who pose these questions, be it to kill a few minutes or simply for the sake of friendly conversation. “Oh, you play the flute? That’s the sweetest thing; my daughter plays too!” Or how about this one: “Do you practice every day?” Or better yet, “Have you ever played in an orchestra?” Alright, one more, and this one really takes the cake: “Have you heard of James Galway?” I find myself answering the same questions every time I tell people I am a music student. For this reason, it is refreshing whenever I encounter a question that catches me off-guard. I was speaking to a non-major friend about music when he asked me, “Why do you play music?” It really is a simple question, but it’s not exactly light conversation. Looking back, I don’t think I ever gave him a straight answer.

Everyone has a different reason for doing what he or she does, and the same is true for music. My first year at college was in many ways overwhelming, and I often found myself wondering if this was really what I wanted to do. While I’m still open to the possibility that I may want to do something completely different in a year’s time, music remains my most worthwhile career path.

Art is a result of human nature, and more specifically, a need to communicate. Music is unique in this regard because it is sound, and thus more closely related to language. In fact, it was Charles Darwin who first proposed that speech evolved from music, and not the other way around. Although one can debate this philosophy, it has been proven that music evolved with the idea of society, and the interaction of human beings in general. Just a few years ago, fragments of 35,000-year-old bone flutes were found, making them the oldest instruments ever discovered. Because people concerned themselves with music making in ancient times, we can infer that it was in some way essential (or at least extremely beneficial) to societal structure. This is still true today. Music remains a reason for social gatherings, and a demonstrative way of expressing sentiment. This is all the more reason to want to be a part of it.

Music also stands alone as an art form that delivers a message to an audience without the need for a visual display. Visual art also delivers a message to its viewers, however, once complete, a painting will always be the same combination of lines, colors and shapes. Others may interpret it differently, but no matter how many times they study it, it will only ever be presented one way. The unique characteristic of performance is that there is an infinite number of ways to perform any piece of music. This means the chances of hearing two identical live performances of the same piece twice are next to nothing, which keeps things interesting. You’ll never be done learning about music that was written hundreds of years ago. 

            That being said, notation is realistically just about the only guaranteed consistency. A composer specifies how they want a piece to sound through notation in the score, and as performers, we do our best to honor that. But in performance practice, what happens, happens, and variation in sound and interpretation from player to player is inevitable. However, a piece of music is always a composer’s attempt to portray an idea, emotion, or even sometimes an object.

A composer friend of mine one said that people write and perform music to tell others something important. Mahler’s Second Symphony, while written in the late 19^th century, still says a lot about Mahler’s thoughts regarding the beauty of the afterlife and the idea of resurrection. In this work, also known as the Resurrection symphony, Mahler kills off his hero in the first movement, which was originally intended to stand alone. Later, he added the subsequent four movements, three of which depict Mahler’s vision of the afterlife. In the fifth and final movement, the hero is resurrected. This story could, and has been told in countless program notes, but to hear the story come to life is an indescribable experience. This reminds me of a statement in one of my professor's Repertoire and Listening prologues that made an impression on me. “It’s when words fail that we resort to metaphor. Music serves a metaphorical function.” Music is a unique way of saying something without actually saying it. As a musician, my ultimate goal is to get inside a composer’s head and accurately portray his or her ideas to an audience.

So at the end of the day, that’s why I play music. It’s easy to get so wrapped up in the world of musical jargon and the technical analysis of performances that we forget why it so important. If you let it, music can transcend any other experience you’ll have in this lifetime. There will be certain pieces and performances that, when you hear them, will make you forget where you are and whom you’re with. Everything seems to drift away; the experience becomes otherworldly and completely transcendental. I’ve wanted to be a musician since I was twelve, but I never understood why until I opened myself up a bit more to what I was hearing and playing. It’s an experience entirely its own. Whether you play music or simply appreciate it, I hope you have this experience at least once in your lifetime. I am a different person because of it, and for me, there is no other career more worthwhile.