The Blackbird

I don’t like writing about music. To be honest, I don’t really like music. I respect it as an art form–quite highly, especially as I hold no talent in it. But music is not central to my life. Most people—that I’ve met—claim they couldn’t live without music. Almost every piece of writing about music—that I’ve read—illustrates music as such a beautiful and magical thing. I guess I’m just blind to the magic. Deaf, rather.

Many pretentious listeners claim that popular or electronic (if there’s a difference) music is awful and they only listen to classical composition. There seems to be a strange attraction to classic rock, jazz, and other genres of song too, but classical orchestras and pianos pieces seem to be prime examples of good, “quality” music. To fill my auditory palette, I’ve tried listening to “Classical Radio” on Pandora. After subjecting myself to most of these pieces, which some scientific articles claim to improve mental ability and health, I’ve come to somewhat understand the appeal. The lack of lyrics and electronic intervention to iron out audio wrinkles makes them somewhat natural. They hold a bit of imperfection, or at least a chance of it. They seem to create more pure sounds. This being said, I still wasn’t convinced that the music was worthwhile or beautiful. It was still something I could live without.

I’ve recently discovered Olivier Messiaen. Like many composers, he’s some French guy who devoted himself to the study of sound. Most of his work, like that of other composers, can be emotionally engaging and all that jazz. Actually, not jazz—different genre. Anyway, most of his work, despite some quirks that may or may not be pleasing to the ear, did not interest me. But then I found his Le merle noir, “The Blackbird.” You can listen to it on YouTube if you’d like.

The Blackbird is a chamber work designed to mimic the birdsongs of blackbirds. Messiaen explores the various cries, of terror and beckoning of the blackbird. I enjoyed the shrill moments in the piece, the sudden jolts and lulls, that mirrored the natural world. Judging by the comments on YouTube, the piece has had positive reception. This kind of surprised me, considering I enjoyed listening to it. There wasn’t a consistent melody or “beat”—things that I’d normally miss and others would normally love. Rather it was true; well-representative of the natural entity it was imitating. The natural birdsong of the blackbird is not innately beautiful (or heard as such), but Messiaen’s work displays it in this light. It gives an honest illustration and enables us to enjoy it. This is something that makes music useful: the ability to make the mundane beautiful. For me, this was done in The Blackbird.