Why We Want to Write Music

...perhaps because we want to listen to that music that does not yet exist

As far as I'm concerned, it's a need... I can't do without it

I started out for purely practical necessity: during my first year of high school, I had a small rock band, but we weren't good at playing covers; so, I began putting together pieces that were appropriate and targeted to everyone's (limited) resources.

This is a habit that has stuck with me, because even today I don't know how to write something that deviates from the timbral or technical resources at my disposal.

For the rest, I need to be creative, but I could easily dedicate myself to something else instead of music. It is so true that, for a long time, I cultivated other artistic passions more heavily.

I took up music again only due to simple coincidences, even logistical ones, just seven or eight years ago.

As you know, I am not a composer, but I am a conductor, so I am the personification of OT right now, don't hate me. But I want to tell you what I answer when they ask me "why do you make music?" and maybe someone even adds "...with all the difficulties of today etc etc...". Well, to that question I answer, very simply "well, I don't know: I believe I couldn't do anything else". As far as I am concerned, it is the pure truth. Bernstein used to say "if you ask yourself if it is right for you to be a musician, then your answer is 'no'!" .

Carlos, it seems to me that no one here asks whether it is right or wrong to be a musician. Instead, they ask what drives a person to "invent" new music (their own).

In my opinion, the subject is fascinating and neither easy nor trivial to discuss: we both know how some people "inflate" themselves immeasurably just by being able to declare themselves "composers" (perhaps just because they are registered with SIAE), to whom I always imagine directing the anecdote of the two Chinese parrots (I leave you the pleasure of illustrating it yourself, as it is wonderful...!).

For my part, I must confess that I have let myself go a little in ostentating a certain "Stravinskian objectivity" when reporting my experience and attitude in this regard, precisely because I viscerally and instinctively detest anyone who can say of themselves "I am a composer," unless they truly live off this profession (trade, mission, etc.).

In a country devastated by returning illiteracy, where there are more writers than readers, even the

CromaDiBrera wrote:

Carlos, it seems to me that no one here asks whether it is right or wrong to be a musician. Instead, they ask what drives a person to "invent" new music (their own).

You're right... Bernstein's phrase didn't really fit. The rest was a way of saying that I have always thought that certain questions are beautiful if they remain unanswered, including the one about why to write. I like to think that a composer cannot help it, just as I cannot help conducting etc... but I warned you I was declared OT! So, pardon...

Carlos wrote:

You're right... Bernstein's phrase didn't really fit. The rest was a way of saying that I've always thought that certain questions are better left unanswered, including the one about why we write. I like to think that a composer cannot help it, just as I cannot help conducting etc... but I warned you I was declared OT! So, pardon...

Oh yeah, but you actually studied composition (and for the sake of completeness of training, as everyone will know by now, regardless of practicing it).

I also really like the idea that something is done simply because one cannot help doing it. However, sometimes, one feels that the answer is not exhaustive and that it would be interesting to discuss honestly what lies "behind" it.

Anyone who dedicates themselves to any activity, when equally questioned about their motivations, could tell you that they do it because they cannot help it; but that's not really an answer... Almost everyone and almost always we do something because, in one way or another, we cannot help doing it. No...?

In short, I think there is something to investigate on the subject, perhaps with the help of a psychologist... O_o.

CromaDiBrera wrote:

Oh yes, but did you actually study composition (and for the sake of a complete education, as everyone will know by now, regardless of whether you practice it).

Yes, in fact I don't write because I have never felt it as a necessity... that is exactly what I meant.

CromaDiBrera wrote:

Almost everyone and almost always we do something because, for one reason or another, we cannot help doing it. No...?

Oh, that would be nice, but I believe there are less fortunate people who practice professions they could do without. But speaking of art or creativity, I believe that the need to express oneself, even through musical interpretation, is a valid and sufficient reason. For a composer, perhaps it should be the primary reason: to say something urgent (urgent in the sense of the urgency to say it, I mean), which seems like the ultimate triviality (and probably it is), but I have always thought that it is precisely that need that has kept even me tied to those five lines forever...

Carlos wrote:

But speaking of art or creativity, I believe that the need to express oneself, even through musical interpretation, is a valid and sufficient reason. For a composer, perhaps it should be the primary reason: to say something urgent (urgent in the sense of the urgency to say it, I mean), which seems like the ultimate triviality (and probably it is), but I have always thought that it is precisely that need that has kept even me tied to those five lines forever...

"Expressing oneself"...? "Saying something"...?

Can we truly say that a composer expresses themselves through their own music? And that their work is a key to reading the human, spiritual, etc., "essence"...? I have some doubts that a personality can be represented by the musical thought it is capable of expressing; in practice, in my opinion, one can quite easily know how to write a Bachian fugue and be a serial killer, just to say.

Furthermore: for music to "say something," it must be a "language"; that is, it must be composed of significant signs or sounds that, when appropriately combined, express a meaning; just like an alphabet, hieroglyphs, or ideograms. But it doesn't seem to me that a chord, a progression, or a certain interval can compose and articulate meanings on par with those. In practice, with music alone, I will never be able to express any concept, but only suggest impressions and emotional interactions (entirely variable and subjective) between the one who produces music and the one who receives it.

All this to say that, in my opinion, expressing or communicating content and meanings through artistic creation is merely a pious illusion; in fact: if art were to turn toward expressing them, it would be of no use (one only needs to think of the arts in authoritarian regimes). Instead, it seems fascinating to me that it can materialize those dimensions of the spirit that could not be rationally described by any language, but only perceived by the senses on a purely instinctive and emotional level.

CromaDiBrera wrote:

All this to say that, in my opinion, expressing or communicating content and meanings through artistic creation is merely a vain illusion; in fact: if art were to turn toward expressing them, it would be of no use (one only needs to think of the arts in authoritarian regimes). Instead, it seems fascinating to me that it knows how to materialize those dimensions of the spirit that could not be rationally described by any language, but can only be perceived by the senses on a purely instinctive and emotional level.

Bingo! In fact, as you may have noticed, I had spoken neither of contents nor of meanings (those are terms you used) and I had remained very vague, risking that my discourse might seem banal. You said it, and very well: it seems fascinating to me that it knows how to materialize those dimensions of the spirit that could not be rationally described by any language, but can only be perceived by the senses on a purely instinctive and emotional level. There is no need for anything else, in my opinion.

Excuse me, but what kind of question is that? Why does an artist want to make art?

For the artist, art is a way of being. It is not a "doing," it is a "being."

There is no practical utility, there is no "trade," there is no profession (even if making art could, in certain rare cases, lead to economic benefits), there is only the need to realize oneself.

In short, you want us to understand that art "serves" no purpose. Like beauty, like love, it serves no purpose (of course, someone could explain that without falling in love between two people of different sexes, the species would probably go extinct, but I am one of those who prefer a different explanation). All the beautiful things in life serve no purpose. They simply are.

Anyone who writes music (but the same applies to any other artistic activity) should not ask themselves questions like "why am I doing this?" or "the world needs what I am about to do." Only the artist should feel the need, and that is enough. Those who do not feel the need and write anyway are either professionals but not true artists, or they should stop.

It could all be true, Pestatasti. However, I wonder and say (and you yourself speak of Beauty). Will any of my works ever be equally Beautiful as one by Chopin? (and similar)

Since the answer is probably no, the question might arise spontaneously: "(then) why do we want to write music?".

But it also applies to the performer; after you hear the Goldbergs played by Gould, who plays the pf with what spirit can approach that work and try to have their say?

And then, to whom would they say it? To themselves? To shut themselves in their own ivory tower?

Simple questions asked by those who are understanding how the whole thing works and, recognizing the vast work and artistic result of certain musicians, feel the need to constantly feel like shit...

I do not have the presumption to do better than Scriabin, Schoenberg, Berio, Bach, etc.

I hope I have explained myself

personally I feel the need to do it and I would feel guilty towards myself if I didn't.

in a sentence :

"it is not you who chooses the music, but it is the music that chooses you."

Dante wrote:

Pestatasti, it could all be true. However, I wonder and say (and you yourself speak of Beauty). Will my work ever be equally as Beautiful as one of Chopin's? (and similar)

Since the answer is probably no, the question might arise spontaneously: "(then) why do we want to write music?".

But the same applies to the performer; after you hear the Goldbergs played by Gould, who plays the pf [piano] with what spirit can approach that work and try to have their say?

And then, to whom would they say it? To themselves? To lock themselves in their own ivory tower?

Simple questions asked by those who are understanding how the cycle works and, recognizing the vast work and artistic result of certain musicians, feel the need to constantly feel like shit...

I do not have the presumption of doing better than Scriabin, Schoenberg, Berio, Bach, etc.

This kind of reasoning happens to everyone, but beware: it is a crippling argument. You say "will my work ever be equally as beautiful as one of Chopin's?" and you also say that "I do not have the presumption of doing better than Scriabin, Schoenberg, Berio, Bach, etc.", but imagine if Chopin had thought what you think (and what many often think)... if Chopin had said "will my work ever be equally as beautiful as one of Beethoven's?", if he had said "I do not have the presumption of doing better than Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven...". He would not have written, or he would have written much less. All great composers (attention: great today and for us, but not considered so by their contemporaries, except perhaps Beethoven himself) had this problem. Just think of the thousands of homages and citations that Beethoven's Ninth Symphony has received from others (for example Brahms in his First Symphony and Schubert in the "Great"); but if Schubert had thought "I cannot do better than Beethoven, therefore...", he would not have written the "Great". These are just examples to say that having something to say does not automatically mean thinking you can say it better than someone else: it simply means having the need to express oneself.

And this also applies to performers. You cite Gould's Goldberg Variations, and in the same way one could cite all (all!) the pieces of the repertoire and ask "what can I do?". If I thought that way, I wouldn't be able to conduct a single note. Truly. I wouldn't be able to conduct a single note of Beethoven, I wouldn't be able to conduct a single note of my beloved Brahms, I wouldn't be able to do anything... because there is always some great performer who before me has said and said (in the worst case scenario) very well. But, as far as I am concerned, my relationship with the authors is exclusive, and when I face a score, even if I know numerous versions (and often truly impressive for beauty, depth, etc.), I only worry about what I read in that score, about what the composer "tells me," and I seek an identification with that message, ignoring as much as possible the weight of comparison with those who did the same before me. I chase that ideal and consider myself lucky if I think I have succeeded in dissecting a doubt, perhaps over two bars in an entire symphony, because this brings me closer to the author and the desire to do the same with the rest of the score convinces me that it is right to do so. Always.

I will tell you something truly funny (so to speak). The first Beethoven symphony I studied was the Fifth, many years ago. I was at the beginning and even struggled to study a score, but I threw myself into it completely. I studied and studied, I read texts about Beethoven, I listened to recordings... and I studied, studied... I reached a point where I knew every single detail, so much so that I was convinced I knew it better than anyone else; it goes without saying that it wasn't so, but it is to illustrate the degree of identification with that music and with Beethoven that I thought I had achieved. So much so that one day I went to my composition teacher and said "Maestro, in my opinion, Beethoven should have foreseen the ritornello for the Scherzo: without a ritornello it is unbalanced, and when the 'pizzicato' version appears, if the Scherzo has not been repeated twice in its original form, much of the surprise effect is lost!". My teacher looked at me somewhat perplexedly and, after a careful analysis of what I had said, replied that the idea was not entirely far-fetched but that it is not uncommon for Beethoven to "change the rules of the game" (very true, moreover) and therefore one probably had to resign oneself to the idea that the Scherzo of the Fifth was without a ritornello. You cannot imagine my joy when, one or two years later, Beethoven's letter emerged in which he complained about the fact that the publisher of the first edition of the Fifth Symphony had, by mistake, omitted the ritornello signs: "so it seems limping! And there is no sense at all in the pizzicato re-presentation of the motive"}

...initial for cellos and double basses!» (I quoted from memory, don't take the exact words as gospel, but it was more or less like that). Well, from that moment on, subsequent critical editions printed the Scherzo of the Fifth with the refrain, as it should have been. Why did I tell you all this? Because if I had thought that many other conductors before me had studied that symphony, I probably would have given up, and at that stage, when I barely knew how to navigate a score, it would have been very easy for me to do so. I didn't give up and, in fact, I even came to understand that the current edition was not in accordance with Beethoven's thought. I believe that is a good reason not to stop trying.

I understand your "discouragement," Dante, but truly if we were to move past the beauties of the past, the world would come to a standstill. Art today has decayed greatly compared to a few centuries ago. Besides, the approach to art should have nothing to do with competition, exclusion, or "I am better than..." (and here I am well aware of how much the so-called "environment," starting from conservatories, is instead exclusionary and fiercely competitive).

I agree with what Carlos observes.

A part from this, however, I believe that the artist must have the same motivations as a mystic. In making art, in fact, there is something sensational, something transcendental, that involves you regardless of whether there is someone there to applaud.

Those who make art experience pleasure, transport, existential fulfillment. Those who believe in God might affirm that making art is an excellent means of coming into contact with the Absolute. Have you ever felt that classic thrill between your shoulder blades when you heard the music of one of the authors you cited? I am sure you have. Well, that sensation is enough to justify the existence of art and the gesture of the artist. There is no need for fame, recognition from critics, money, and all the more or less squalid things linked to the world of show business.

It is obvious, of course, that gratification is greatest when others appreciate you. But that is not what should motivate the artist. One does not make art to show off or to get rich. Glen Gould, whom you yourself cited, had retired for a long period with only his dog and his piano in a remote forest in Canada and then left the scene very early on. Of course, his recordings were listened to, but the public annoyed him and he loved playing only with his piano. So if you ask me what sense it makes to play if no one listens to you, what sense it makes to write if no one publishes you, I tell you that it certainly makes sense.

pestatasti wrote:

Excuse me, but what kind of question is that? [...]

For the artist, art is a way of being. It is not a "doing," it is a "being."

There is no practical utility, there is no "trade," there is no profession [...], there is only the need to realize oneself.

In short, we want to understand that art "serves" no purpose. [...]

Anyone who writes music (but the same applies to any other artistic activity) should not ask themselves questions like "why am I doing this"? [...] It is only the artist who should feel the need, and that is enough. Those who do not feel the need and write anyway are either professionals but not true artists, or they should stop.

One must be truly overflowing with self-esteem to tell someone who doesn't know themselves and thinks differently that they should stop...! Perhaps it is because I am used to letting others decide whether my work has artistic depth or not, instead of deciding for myself. Therefore, I fear that I will not stop at all, and that certain Savonarolas visited by the sacred fire of Art, ready to get irritated and judge anyone who possesses a sensitivity different from their own, will just have to come to terms with it.

pestatasti wrote:

Glen Gould, whom you yourself cited, had retired for a long period with only his dog and his piano in a remote forest in Canada and then left the scene very early.

It is not exactly like that, in truth. But it is true that GG left concert activities early (at age 32) and that he loved the company of animals more than people, whom he kept at a distance thanks to dizzying telephone bills...

pestatasti wrote:

Art, today, has decayed a lot compared to a few centuries ago.

In my opinion it has only changed, as it should, I do not agree on the decay... I would say, not at all. I'm sorry....

For my part, I do not agree with the use of the terms "art" and "artist," to be clear, when it is intended to describe—even broadly—one's inclination to compose, interpret, conduct, or even build instruments.

It is a term that (and this is not the first time I say it, perhaps not on this forum) I consider overused, far too much used to identify one's nature, one's work, etc., just to begin expressing what I think.

I remember an interview with a singer (it seems to me) of a group of Italian musicians; I think they were a group that made and thinks they still make pop music (but I don't remember well, what I don't forget is what he said, however); he said, responding to a journalist, "well, you know, we artists...", so one of the questions is this, somewhat like when asking what genius means in some fields rather than others: what does the term art and consequently artist really mean, and what do people think of this term when they speak of it as if it were a distinguishing characteristic of theirs?

It might be that I am polemical and always think the worst (maybe not always, well, but often yes), but it makes me think of self-referentiality, an excessive self-esteem.

Now, instead, I will get into the merits of the discussion; I liked Carlos's example, I can imagine the satisfaction in seeing one's own hypothesis confirmed, which at the moment must have certainly created a certain emotion in him, especially the maestro's look (which always has a certain effect, because precisely "one always thinks... the worst"), and that episode.

I think it certainly contributed to increasing, in an balanced way anyway, his self-esteem, also increasing above all the stimulus to continue, and consequently self-confidence (the last two sentences could also be inverted).

As for me, I do it (write) because I feel good (which for me is rare; those who know me a little know that it is rare) as soon as I think of something in mind that might please me and probably work (theoretically; then my head always creates complications, webs that compromise better work). In recent years, I have felt a profound change in the way of writing and especially the "function" that compositions have acquired; in the past, I was inclined toward speed, toward a mass of instruments, even too many, which meant exuberance, a desire to express an energy that was somewhat dormant; now for a few years I have tended to write very short pieces; I am not interested in their length, but in what I can express (even if it is impossible to make understood with "music alone," as CromaDiBrera says), and above all the slowness. I am very high-energy as a person, but I need to feel music that unfolds in absolute tranquility; it must be moving—even a single chord, a short passage must make me perceive certain sensations—but it must be above all introspective.

For example (CromaDiBrera will tear me apart now) when I go out for long "walks" (of exhaustion), I also listen to the entire Well-Tempered Clavier two times in a row, and I don't get tired; among the pieces I prefer are those performed with slowness, and often it is only a short passage that I wait for, and despite it being a sonority that hurts in a certain sense, I need it.

This is what I feel like doing during this period: short, simple pieces, 2 voices, maximum 3, but they must express at least a minimum of what I feel through what they can; it is often discomfort, and for this reason also I don't feel them as finished (not just due to my own shortcoming); indefiniteness is what I have been experiencing for years.

I often feel (and it is the truth, which I don't even mind that much anymore, since I have always been inclined to "build") like a worker who likes making music, but who at the same time obviously does not think they are making works of art; this is clear, otherwise I wouldn't feel so far behind and so incredibly ignorant from this point of view, and not only that; for this reason (also) I don't like the use of the term artist very much.

Of course, things have gone in a certain way; logically I am not 90 years old, everything (or almost) can be recovered, but I still haven't lived the last few years with enthusiasm; for me, this affects what one does very much. It is complicated to express emotions that one does not live by imagining them, and at the same time make understood those that unfortunately are habitually lived: the uncertainties, the perennial doubts.

A thing I feel anyway, and perhaps in certain ways it is wrong, is the sensation of shaping even minimal aspects of one's own being through composition; I mean that

by improving certain aspects, I perceive that simultaneously I myself am modifying something in me, and I am not talking about changes in character or personality—these things are unchanged; I am talking about greater awareness, and precisely based on

there have been times when I thought you were waiting for me from the indirect "signals" of music

such that I myself, as a person, could achieve greater awareness, in practice a reverse path.

Another thing, for years (although it is pleasant and not insignificant at times) I no longer feel the need (perhaps understanding more and more the essence of things) to have at my disposal

tantissimi suoni, sono arrivato quasi alla concezione di vendere quello che ho, tenermi al massimo il pianoforte (che non è poco), perché l'importante (piaceri a parte per la varietà)

is that one manages to express even minimally what one wants to say, all while always being aware that if I don't do it, there won't be anyone to cry about the lack,

this is an awareness I already had in the past, but now it is greater.

One thing I often think is this: despite having full awareness of this state, I cannot deny that it is nice to know that someone listens with pleasure to what you have written,

but the strong self-criticism remains, precisely because one is partly aware of one's own current limits, but that little bit that can satisfy (for me) is present precisely because

there is much more written by others, and written better, so a sort of compensation for one's own limit, the fortune of being able to listen to certain things, at least for me it is like this, fills

the gaps in my compositional process.