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What multitrack recording tells me about music (and life)

TL;DR:

  • Almost all of the pleasure of music comes from playing in real life, with other people.
  • Almost all of the pleasure of life comes from doing it in real life with other people.
  • Musicians are constantly, unconsciously adapting to subtleties of pitch, timing, phrasing, intensity, breathing, … and that’s what makes a performance worth listening to.

Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time (far too much) putting together multitrack recordings, and I’ve come to realise that there’s almost no value in them other than a personal challenge.

  • One exception: If I’ve arranged a piece for brass ensemble and I just want to hear whether or not it works (ok: to satisfy myself that it works). This isn’t a performance – more demonstration.
  • The other exceptional exception was during the lockdown months, where I just needed a musical challenge – and to some extent wanted to emulate playing music with people. This isn’t a performance – more desperation.

Enjoyment

I’d like to define three classifications of musical enjoyment:

  • Qualities inherent in the music
  • Added value from the subtleties of performance
    • Personal interpretation
    • Unique qualities of the performer and instrument
  • For a perfomer: Musical interaction
    • ensemble, harmony, teamwork, friendship, fun.
  • Social interaction
    • Knowing or identifying with the performer or other performers
    • Appreciation of skill/talent/confidence/charisma
    • For the listener: Vicarious (imagined) enjoyment

Nearly one out of four

I guess the multitrack experience just-about renders some of the quality of the music. But, to be honest, it’s so very difficult to get the parts in tune and together that I’m not sure you’re going to end up with justice to the music itself.

There’s almost no interpretation because of the mechanical way that you have to put these things together.

Clearly no interaction. Trying to coax some kind of sympathy now from a recording of yourself from earlier that day is really quite depressing.

I guess there’s an element of skill, and I guess somebody might think that the guy doing the multitrack recording is actually enjoying it.

Why do it?

First, it’s often just interesting to get some kind of rendition of the music. As I mentioned above: Often it’s nice to hear what a new arrangement sounds like before you inflict it on your friends! Sometimes (here and here) it’s reasonable to assume that nobody will put the effort into performing it, so this is the only way you’ll hear it!

Then there’s the element of challenge. This isn’t musical, it’s just a technical, personal goal that breaks up the relentless playing of Bach cello suites.

I guess there’s also some showing off. But, really, if you’re somebody like me you’d go a long way before you found somebody who cares – and, irritatingly, even further to find somebody who appreciates how bloody difficult it is, who cares.

Conclusion: Multitrack is a demonstration, not a performance.

An allegory for life?

Yes.

Life: The individual exists in the context of the surrounding people, things, smells, history, information, memory, hormones, world… The value (magic) in an individual’s life is in their interaction with those people and that universe.

The joy of making music is in making music with people. The joy of consuming music is more subtle: It’s partly vicarious. It’s being moved. A concert or a gig is about experiencing the people performing and the imagination/mastery/message of the composer. (That’s why “AI generated” sounds are not music)

People: In life, a person is the relationship that others have of him or her. If I evaporate, Helena will still have her version of me; all of my friends will still have their version of me. (If I was an author or politician or attractive or famous, millions of people would have their mes.) Whoever I am, if I evaporate, the only fraction of me that’s missing is my fraction. Likewise, in performance it is the relationships that make the magic. A quartet has six two-way relationships – and four with each listener. But a multitrack recording has none.

All recorded music

I would suggest that most studio recordings are joyless. But that’s a discussion for another day. Just one example: Listen to Hiromi live. Then listen to this. Then listen to the studio recording.


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