The first person narrator informs us that we are forever haunted by the question: "What is truth?" (p. 35) Some of us are. This is a Biblical question that we have considered before in relation to Poul Anderson's works. See here. He lists different kinds of truth:
empirical facts;
mathematical theorems;
"...truths uttered by poetry and by music." (ibid.)
Does music express truth? At Lancaster University, an Aesthetics lecturer told us that sometimes people hear music and comment, "How true!" Then he asked us what kind of truth this could be. My response was: "Do some people say that? I don't. If they didn't say it, then we wouldn't have to ask what they meant by it." Poetry is an intermediate case because it consists of words which can be true or false but also does something more or other than this, like music.
Authenticity is a kind of truth. See Oscar Wilde.
11 comments:
Kaor, Paul!
I don't know how PRECISELY music can express truth. About the most we can say is that it's true to say beautiful music is beautiful. And that other kinds of music can be harsh, jarring, ugly. I would call the latter false music.
Ad astra! Sean
Personally I would advocate junking the concept of 'truth' and substituting "accurate data".
As to music... it took a long time for people from East Asia and people from Europe to even recognize that what the other considered music was music.
Kaor, Mr. Stirling!
As a Catholic I can't go that far! I would say we need both truth and accurate data. I still believe we have to take seriously Pilate's question.
I thought harsh, clanging, booming rock and roll with "singers" shrieking YAH YAH BABEEEEEEEEE!!! a good example of ugly music.
Ad astra! Sean
Sean: I had that conversation about rock with Poul once.
I played a little verbal trick: I asked him if it was true that if a song's lyrics were good -poetry-, then it had to be a good song.
Then I quoted three classic rock songs; Crosby Stills & Nash "Southern Cross", Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road", and Warren Zevon's "Lawyers, Guns & Money".
That is, prog-rock, rockabilly, and inimitable comic rock.
He did have to admit that those lyrics -are- good poetry. (And of the last, that it was cuttingly psychologically accurate.)
I mean, you can't get a better study of heedless, absurdly narcissistic entitlement than:
"I went home with the waitress
Just like I always do --
How was I to know
She was with the Russians too?
I was gambling in Havanna
I took a little risk...
Send lawyers, guns and money!
Dad! Get me out of this!
I'm an innocent bystander
But somehow I got caught
Between a rock and a hard place
And now I'm down on my luck
Yes, down on my luck
So now I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man --
Send lawyers, guns and money!
Dad! The shit has hit the fan!"
Kaor, Mr. Stirling!
I have to admit those lyrics were amusing. I have to concede that not all rock and roll is bad music.
Ad astra! Sean
Sean:
If it is more than a lifetime old, generally only the good stuff survives.
I think you were biased by the 90% that is crud, making it hard to find the good stuff in recent music.
Kaor, Jim!
That is correct. Remember Sturgeon's Law: "Ninety percent of EVERYTHING is crud!"
Ad astra! Sean
"Southern Cross" goes:
Got out of town on a boat for the Southern islands
Sailing reach, before a following sea
She was making for the Trades on the outside
And the downhill run to Papeete
Off the wind on this heading lie the Marquesas
We've got eighty feet at the waterline
Nicely making way
In a noisy bar on Avalon I tried to call you
But on a midnight watch I realized
Why twice you ran away
I think about
Think about how many times I have fallen
Spirits are using me, larger voices calling
What heaven brought you and me
Cannot be forgotten
I have been around the world
Looking for that woman-girl
And I know she knows
Who knows love can endure
And you know it will
When you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way
'Cause the truth you might be running from is so small
But it's as big as the promise
The promise of a coming day
So I'm sailing for tomorrow, my dreams are a-dying
And my love is an anchor tied to you
Tied with a silver chain
I have my ship
And all her flags are a-flying
She is all that I have left --
And music is her name
So we cheated and we lied and we tested
And we never failed to fail
It was the easiest thing to do
You will survive being bested
Somebody fine will come along
Make me forget about loving you
And the Southern Cross --
And the Southern Cross.
Kaor, Mr. Stirling!
Very good, I agree. Almost like something Kipling would have written, reminding me of the poem Anderson quoted in THE ENEMY STARS.
Ad astra! Sean
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