Music is Magic

I've been convinced music is magic for a while. I've alluded to it multiple times in hopes it would inspire me to explain myself. 

So far... nothing.

But - as that is also what I had planned for today- here goes!

I've seen multiple attributes for the idea that while painting and sculpture are art in space, music is art in time. And that's true, and may be a strong part of the magic of it. 

Music and Lyrics is by all accounts a dopey film, but it does have some moments of brilliance, such as-

"I'd say that you can take all the novels in the world, and not one of them will make you feel as good as quickly as "I got sunshine, on a cloudy day / when it's cold outside, I got the month of May..." That is real poetry. Those are real poets. Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan, The Beatles..."

But the thing is, it isn't just the "poetry." The music itself does it. I know I'm not alone in the feeling that just the right song (with lyrics or instrumental) coming on in the car on the way home from an awful day at work can completely rewrite my emotional state. 

Dude, that's pure magic. 

Every Superman theme has been composed with three notes of "rising fifths." That series of notes "feels" hopeful. (The original Star Trek theme used them too.) Why? Because they do. Yes, "rising" is a hopeful motion. But why are other rising notes just a scale?  Why does one rising fifth (I think)  work for "Taps?" A baseline "walks." Trumpets sound heroic. Oboes are sneaky. They're just sounds, yet they automatically affect our emotions.

Some of it is cultural, but even if it is, there's a weird mystical quality to it all. Playing in a minor key sounds spooky and creepy. But what is a minor key? Its a major key (which normally sounds "happy" for... reasons) with a note played wrong. But not any kind of wrong, because many kinds of wrong just create dissonance or cacophony. (Which also sound like magic words.) It's playing a note in a precisely wrong way that makes it spooky. Sounds a lot like spell casting to me.

Playing music with a group of people has formed some of the single most bonding and connecting moments with other human beings I've ever known. And then that emotional connectivity spreads, in a different way, to the listeners.

The composers create the spells, but the performers are the spell casters.

And people who really let themselves go and dance, they live in the magic, whether they are professionally trained or completely letting loose (even badly) at a wedding. They really become part of the magic. I can't do this. I've tried. At dances I've been to, (parties and classes both) Literally everyone else in my family can, but not me. I think "I need to move my hips more," or "I need to raise my arms," or multiple other things. Then I don't... possibly I can't. Honestly, It's really frustrating, because I can feel the magic with music in the car, when juggling, or other places. But for some reason, I can't fully give myself to it on the dance floor. 

I have no explanation for this either. 

This was never going to be a conclusion filled train of thought.

But one aspect of the magic of music I am acutely aware of is how it triggers memory. Scent memories may be more powerful, but they tend to be vague and generalized. Because of the "art in time" aspect, the memories with music are nearly as powerful, but also linear. It's why leitmotifs work in film. The magic of music allows for themes that sound like the characters.  (Superman's rising fifths as mentioned above, for example. No conclusions and no real order either today!) Then, as they are used in various ways, and keys, steer the emotions throughout time, and allow fully formed pictures in one's head when hearing them later. John Williams is a master at this. From the scores of his films, you can tell who's in the scene and what they're doing without any visual cues. 

It's not only for soundtracks. Most folks my age can hear, "click... click... click... click... WHOMP!" and have not only the memory of the song, but specific times they heard it, who they were with, what else was going on and most importantly, how they felt spring back to them.

(And I'm sure some metal heads figured out it was "Back in Black" just from my lame attempt, stopped reading and are busy playing air guitar.)

And whether its instrumental, or deeply complex lyrics, all the previous times you heard it, and all the memories associated with it come back when the barest snipped of the song is heard.

How does that work? 

Magic.

Sometimes there is no explanation.

Particularly when an idea is thrown together at the last minute.

Then again, magic is the most fun when you ignore the mechanics and just enjoy it.

Just like music.