“So long as the human spirit thrives on this planet, music in some living form will accompany and sustain it and give it expressive meaning.”
-Aaron Copland
One of my favorite composers to listen to is Aaron Copland, an American composer who lived in the majority of the 20th century. I’m sure you’ve heard his works before – Appalachian Spring, Billy the Kid Rodeo, among many others. I love how his works inject a spark into the day, filling with light the sometimes mundane humdrum of ordinary life.
Music describes something for the soul that words cannot. In the case of Aaron Copland, the raw energy of the American Experiment, the open skies, and the classic expression of the Western Frontier: the cowboy. If you’re familiar with any of the old westerns by the director John Ford, you can imagine Copland’s music providing the backdrop to these films. As I’m writing, I’m listening to Copland now, and the strings slowly come alive, beckoning you into a soft sunrise over a red desert. The sun, with rays of orange and red, slowly creeps over the horizon, illuminating the sands so they begin to glow. And then! With quick notes, the strings begin their trek across the spectrum, like a crowd of small animals slowly awaking and creeping, quickly, across the horizon.
Perhaps I’m over romanticizing it – but just like a book, music is meant to paint a picture; it’s for us to imagine what that picture might be. I’ve shared before how George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue reminds me of my commute on public transit. Why not other ideas, dreams you’ve had? Music can help to carry you towards those dreams, flesh out an idea that you couldn’t otherwise put words to. By moving beyond the spoken word, music lifts our souls towards higher things.
There’s something in music that speaks to our soul in ways that words cannot – and we’ve all had that one song which always brings a smile every time we hear it. Music awakens, stirs, ignites us to remember something. It could be a memory, a place, a person. But even more than that, music creates; an idea, perhaps a color, molding sound like clay.
One of my favorites pieces in literature involves music – I’m referring to the creation of Narnia in C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew. In it, we witness Aslan the lion singing the land of Narnia into existence. Lewis writes, and you can feel the excitement as the words spring out at you.
“A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. It was hardly a tune. But it was beyond comparison, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.”
If music could make us feel as if something was growing, surging out of the ground to be alive, then undoubtedly the music in divine song would be enough to bring things into existence out of pure joy. Think of that one song that always has you wriggling with excitement every time it comes on. It brings something out of our souls, opens a hidden chamber that perhaps even we were unaware existed.
Listening to good music is something that makes life richer, and brings us out of the humdrum everyday. It could be a particular artist in the car, or a composer that speaks to you while you’re riding public transportation. Just as Aslan’s song brought Narnia into being, so good music brings something into existence that didn’t exist before. It points our souls outside of ourselves, to experience the beautiful in a tangible way that we undoubtedly can feel deeply. No wonder people may weep at a particularly beautiful hymn, or light up during a particular moment of a symphony.
But listening to good music means perhaps expanding outside of our comfort zone. Perhaps you’ve never listened to Aaron Copland – then my encouragement this weekend is to take a moment and listen to his Appalachian Spring. Consider the music in the context of a sunrise, and let it carry you away. Or perhaps it’s the quiet of a house over the holidays just before the children awake. The glee, the fun, as they bound downstairs.
This weekend, and this coming week, let’s take a moment to find and listen to a new piece of music we’ve never listened to before; if you’ve been touched by it, please share with a friend. What stood out, what memories or places did it remind you of?
In listening, may we be reminded of something more, brought out of ourselves, and become better souls for it.
My best.
Passionately loving the world 