Music is either good or bad, for our state of mind.

State of mind is rather broad, but I largely agree with the undercurrent idea: that music can have a beneficial effect, or a deleterious effect, upon the listener, according to a) how it is made, and b) the character and intent of the composer.

v I will state at the outset, however, that I apply this understanding towards the discipline of how I myself write music, and that it informs what I myself make the time and effort to listen to (or perhaps more aptly, to listen to repeatedly); it is vain to seek to use such insight with the intent of "saving society from bad art" — if a composer wishes to write horrendous music, why, you may rest assured that he is going to write horrendous music, up front and in your face.

It is very easy to differentiate between what music is good and/or bad for our state of mind.

Is it? Well, perhaps it is. But it may not be easy at all, to try to explain this in coldly concrete terms to someone who resists the idea.

Teaching Art is a little like teaching Love. They can be taught, of course, and have been for centuries; but they cannot be defined, not in any way which will satisfy everyone, everywhere.

It is very bad when what is bad is decided to be very good when it is bad for our state of mind.

I just can't make this one out; sorry.

In reply, another neighbor writes:

That presupposes that everybody's medulla oblongata reacts the same to the same music, which I can't accept as a premise.

Now, with the understanding that the focus on the medulla oblongata (which is an artifact from the original post) may itself be will-o'-the-wisp-y ... perhaps there is indeed something physical in music (which is to say, in sound), to which any human body does indeed respond in a uniform manner. If a seven-foot pane of glass shatters immediately behind your back, I doubt even one person in a thousand would find it a pleasant experience. And while I cannot point to studies in the New England Journal of Medicine to support this contention, I seriously think that almost anyone would find the sonic effect of sitting next to a gently bubbling mountain stream calming and peaceful.

There is content and meaning in sound, content and meaning which have an affect deeper than the mere stimulation of thought about the sound; then too, the connections between mind and body are subtler than we understand (!). I have no difficulty with the proposal that certain kinds of music have certain effects on the person listening to it, certain effect on his mental life, certain effects on the tenor of his emotions, certain effects on aspects of his physical being; that not all music has the same uniform type or degree of effect; that some kinds of art and music do actually have a deleterious effect on the viewer/listener.

Simply put, I have an easier time believing that there are "sonic absolutes" of some sort, than entertaining the intransigent resistance to this idea.

I think Plato had hold of something important. In The Republic, he wanted some sorts of music suppressed, and others cultivated, because music has a moral effect on the auditor according to how it is made, according to the composer's intent. It ain't just pushing notes.

Now, we don't have a compact disc of musical selections to illustrate Plato's treatise. We don't have a best-selling title, The Moral and Spiritual Effect of Music for Dummies. The details aren't spelled out for us. It would be a dull world if we had everything handed to us on watercress.

Further response to the original message:

One person's noise is another person's music. That has been true throughout music history ....

This has actually been true only for a relatively brief period in history, for as long (say) as there has been a press for publishing music criticism. I am surprised so few people have seen fit to observe it, but one reason, perhaps the principal reason, for the increasingly rapid change in musical style and aesthetics over the past five hundred years, has been the development of communications.

At any rate, the Oh yeah? Says you. I have my own opinion kneejerk response is a relatively modern, and relatively Western, phenomenon.

Something that has indeed been true throughout musical history is, every culture establishes rules for how art is made, rules for how an artist is trained to his vocation, and rules to determine what is art, and what is just stuff.

Briefly, my view of Beauty in Art and Music is:

There are three classes of Creative Work:

1. Things that anyone, anywhere will perceive as beautiful, will agree are beautiful
2. Things that this person from his perspective considers beautiful, but whose beauty another person may somehow qualify, question, dispute
3. Things that anyone, anywhere will perceive as lacking beauty, will agree are not beautiful

Now, while anyone can argue (and some have argued) with me about this, the bottom line is that, as I myself compose music, I reject (3), do not content myself with (2), and strive to produce (1).

Perhaps I may not succeed; but at the least, I am aiming high.

Another neighbor writes:

Good music is good. Great music is great. Bad music is bad. It doesn't matter if it's dissonant, consonant, tonal, or atonal. If you've ever heard BAD 18th century music, you know what I mean.

In a way, you're absolutely right. Music can be done poorly in any style. And great music can be written in almost any style. But some "styles" of music, which are (historically speaking) a bit johnny-come-lately, and (shall we say) ideology-heavy and discipline-light, are highly inartistic, and the composer who gives himself to such a style has all the more difficult a task, in trying to produce enduringly great work. And you don't get extra points for digging the Panama Canal with a plastic spoon.

So please, let's not use tonality to define good music any more.

Okay. Just one thing. Define tonality? Thing is, I think that if we really understand sound, good music is in some sense tonal. But then, we can be a long long time discussing what tonal implies, means, suggests, requires.

Of course what's good music to me, may not necessarily be good music to you.

You are confusing two ideas here.

The music I like [best], may not necessarily be the music you like [best].

And, while in cultivating ourselves both as individuals, and as artists, we will attune our likes and appreciation, deliberately and unconsciously, with increasing aptness to What is Good in Music ....

We can, in fact, (or ought to be able to) agree on what is good music, and what is bad music.

If we cannot, then why on earth do we have music departments? Do away with them, and let's just have Casey Kasem.

So, write good music, and hopefully someone else will agree and perform it. As a composer once told me, “Write music that you dig. Chances are, if you dig it, someone else will too.”

Two responses:

1. All too easy. To paraphrase Lincoln, you can find *someone* to listen to *anything*. And while I have no objection to labor-saving strategies ... if we do not work hard at *something*, we will accomplish *nothing*.
2. Chances are ...? This is the best we can do? The best we can hope for? What if I have the ambition of writing music so good, that I can be sure that someone else will like it? Sure that a substantial number of people will like it? Sure that it is so well made, that people will continue to like it, even if they listen to it a third time?

I say this, although I certainly agree with the thought that dissonance per se is not The Great Musical Evil. There are chords in my latest piece which are unabashedly dissonant. On the other hand, a recent commission for the Choir of the Cathedral Church of St Paul in Boston, is the most common-practice-tonal piece I have written to date. The only dissonances are becomingly chaste, and are all resolved in a way consistent with common-practice logic.