In this extract from my book 'Music to Raise the Dead' I reveal a surprising convergence of modern science and the oldest song traditions—and a pathway to an alternative musicology of immense value in the current day.
Dec 12, 2022·edited Dec 12, 2022Liked by Ted Gioia
Love reading this Ted! And apropo of both this chapter and Terry Murray's comment below, I am a Juilliard-trained percussionist who is also an athlete. For many years now, I've been composing my own music to train along to in my outdoor athletic pursuits: I've written music specifically for kayaking, for running, for rowing, and for cycling. Each musical work is at my ideal tempo for each sport (160bpm which matches my cycling cadence of 80, for example).
My music is heavily influenced by the music of Steve Reich, particularly his early masterpiece, "Music for Eighteen Musicians." It's minimalist, very rhythmic, and steady-state (the tempo doesn't change for an hour or more).
What I've observed over the years is that first, I love composing this music—which is in itself an exercise in flow. Composing with constraints such as tempo, rhythm, and repeating patterns makes for an appealing challenge in writing music that isn't dreadfully dull. Second, I still love listening and working out to pieces I composed years ago. And finally (and perhaps most importantly), it's hard for me to overstate how incredibly energizing it is to be moving my body through the outdoors (whether on land or water) in time with the music! I find I can go harder and longer when I workout to these minimalist, pattern-based pieces than either without any music or just listening to random music that's not in sync with my body's motions.
I've thought several times over the years of trying to market these compositions to athletes and other fitness buffs. I've just never been able to work out whether they're so unique to my own musical tastes and workout models they would be useful to anyone else?
Thank you for this. It is very good. I am not a musician. I have tried many times with little success. What I am is an athlete. I have excelled at every sport I have attempted. What I have learned is that you can enter the flow state in athletic endeavors as well. You need to take advantage of it when it happens because it does not last. There have been times while playing basketball, baseball, and tennis where I have had good outcomes "just happen". It is a wonderful experience. I have attempted to make it happen but have found you can't. You have to let it happen.
Dec 13, 2022·edited Dec 13, 2022Liked by Ted Gioia
I had a teacher back in college who did his best to convey many of these same ideas. It was no surprise to me that the department overlords took sharp exception to his methods from time to time. We did a lot of listening, yes--but also a lot of assigned reading with no obvious connection to music. He changed my life, and I wasn't the only one. (I'm probably older by decades than most of your readers, and I think--for the present moment--that the song I'd have going through my head as I said goodbye for the last time would be Noel Coward's "This Is A Changing World". "No regret is worth a tear...we're living in a changing world, my dear".)
In regard to the begging paragraphs; When I worked in a drum shop in Van Nuys, Ca. in the early 60's, there was a sign out front that said; Have Fun, Play Drums. We had a lot of young students who wanted to do that. I still do that. If you're not having a good time playing music, do something else and maybe you'll come back to it.
Conversely, when I was 38 I decided to study again and improve my technique. The teacher I went to was an excellent technician and teacher but he yelled a lot, until one day I said to him, "Dick, no matter how much you yell at me, I'll only get it when I get it." He replied, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was yelling." After that I spent 2 productive years with him. 44 years later, I still have fun playing drums.
Great review of the literature and valid correlations. My old Music Ed prof, Dr. Charles H. Ball, pointed out that " . . . we may be about a more serious business that is ordinarily imagined." He spoke of such things as Mr. Gioia brings forth here . . . and that was many moons ago.
Flow is where you find it–it can also be experienced through oration, e.g. due to the rhythmic "incantations" of the Southern tent preachers I heard as a child. My paternal grandfather was a Baptist lay preacher who achieved flow " . . . when the spirit was upon him." And I watched Jimmy Swaggart on video as he entranced an entire stadium of listeners (even though I didn't believe any of his actual message).
And I've felt it sometimes in my classroom, where–my visiting Chair referred to my " . . . being the bard." Not every class, but sometimes . . . I think it has much to do with acquiring Deming's Profound Knowledge–where one is so deeply steeped in the field and subject matter that the essential bones are revealed without any seeming effort. That's the part of classroom experience that I miss (not much of the other stuff)!
Good read. It is no surprise that Dr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi found himself turning to music to learn how to create meaningful lives out of chaos. Music has the power to create a flow state, where difficult tasks can be achieved with ease, in an almost magical way.
When my parents died a song came through that attempted to acknowledge the gifts they had given to me and my 9 siblings during life as well as a final gift they gave as they left this world. It was a transformative experience to write and invariably when I perform this song the atmosphere in the room changes and I hear weeping and see tissues being passed around. It’s one of my highest values in music and live performance to create containers that are strong and safe enough for folks to feel deeply into their lives. It’s far more important than fame or fortune, and every time this magic happens I feel vitally connected to myself, to humanity and to Spirit. Your essay is the first I’ve seen on this important topic. Thank you Ted.
I have no musical skills what-so-ever, but have always been athletic and love to move to music.
We had an awful lot of fun performing hyungs (katas or patterns) to music.
A friend of mine wrote an essay for one of his black belt tests. In the essay, he talked about having an out of body experience while in the ring. He saw a disembodied foot or fist in front of him that appeared to be winning the fight. The moment he realized the limbs were his own, and that he might win the competition, the "mushin" moment was gone, losing everything.
As a martial arts instructor, it was very difficult to pick up a hyung in the middle. I often had to start from the beginning or my body could not remember the pattern.
Chaos/Noise vs music and starting a song in the middle: it takes moments to pick up the thread if you just drop the needle half way through a piece, the part so familiar when heard in sequence can feel like nonsense, momentarily, from my own experience.
Dec 12, 2022·edited Dec 12, 2022Liked by Ted Gioia
Coincidentally (or not), Anderson Cooper's new podcast about grief is titled "All There Is" which is a play on the title of the song by Miss Peggy Lee.
This was an amazing read. I’m going back for another read, much slower, because I raced through it. I’m a novelist and I am addicted to flow. I also did a lot of music growing up and had some traumatic performances where I suddenly realized I was “zoned out” and totally forgot what I was doing. So awful. I wish someone could have helped me through it, I’ve had terrible performance anxiety ever since. This chapter is super helpful to me, even decades later.
Love reading this Ted! And apropo of both this chapter and Terry Murray's comment below, I am a Juilliard-trained percussionist who is also an athlete. For many years now, I've been composing my own music to train along to in my outdoor athletic pursuits: I've written music specifically for kayaking, for running, for rowing, and for cycling. Each musical work is at my ideal tempo for each sport (160bpm which matches my cycling cadence of 80, for example).
My music is heavily influenced by the music of Steve Reich, particularly his early masterpiece, "Music for Eighteen Musicians." It's minimalist, very rhythmic, and steady-state (the tempo doesn't change for an hour or more).
What I've observed over the years is that first, I love composing this music—which is in itself an exercise in flow. Composing with constraints such as tempo, rhythm, and repeating patterns makes for an appealing challenge in writing music that isn't dreadfully dull. Second, I still love listening and working out to pieces I composed years ago. And finally (and perhaps most importantly), it's hard for me to overstate how incredibly energizing it is to be moving my body through the outdoors (whether on land or water) in time with the music! I find I can go harder and longer when I workout to these minimalist, pattern-based pieces than either without any music or just listening to random music that's not in sync with my body's motions.
I've thought several times over the years of trying to market these compositions to athletes and other fitness buffs. I've just never been able to work out whether they're so unique to my own musical tastes and workout models they would be useful to anyone else?
Enjoyed this so much! I want your "book" to be in a form I can put on my music shelf - Please?
Thank you for this. It is very good. I am not a musician. I have tried many times with little success. What I am is an athlete. I have excelled at every sport I have attempted. What I have learned is that you can enter the flow state in athletic endeavors as well. You need to take advantage of it when it happens because it does not last. There have been times while playing basketball, baseball, and tennis where I have had good outcomes "just happen". It is a wonderful experience. I have attempted to make it happen but have found you can't. You have to let it happen.
I had a teacher back in college who did his best to convey many of these same ideas. It was no surprise to me that the department overlords took sharp exception to his methods from time to time. We did a lot of listening, yes--but also a lot of assigned reading with no obvious connection to music. He changed my life, and I wasn't the only one. (I'm probably older by decades than most of your readers, and I think--for the present moment--that the song I'd have going through my head as I said goodbye for the last time would be Noel Coward's "This Is A Changing World". "No regret is worth a tear...we're living in a changing world, my dear".)
In regard to the begging paragraphs; When I worked in a drum shop in Van Nuys, Ca. in the early 60's, there was a sign out front that said; Have Fun, Play Drums. We had a lot of young students who wanted to do that. I still do that. If you're not having a good time playing music, do something else and maybe you'll come back to it.
Conversely, when I was 38 I decided to study again and improve my technique. The teacher I went to was an excellent technician and teacher but he yelled a lot, until one day I said to him, "Dick, no matter how much you yell at me, I'll only get it when I get it." He replied, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was yelling." After that I spent 2 productive years with him. 44 years later, I still have fun playing drums.
Great review of the literature and valid correlations. My old Music Ed prof, Dr. Charles H. Ball, pointed out that " . . . we may be about a more serious business that is ordinarily imagined." He spoke of such things as Mr. Gioia brings forth here . . . and that was many moons ago.
Flow is where you find it–it can also be experienced through oration, e.g. due to the rhythmic "incantations" of the Southern tent preachers I heard as a child. My paternal grandfather was a Baptist lay preacher who achieved flow " . . . when the spirit was upon him." And I watched Jimmy Swaggart on video as he entranced an entire stadium of listeners (even though I didn't believe any of his actual message).
And I've felt it sometimes in my classroom, where–my visiting Chair referred to my " . . . being the bard." Not every class, but sometimes . . . I think it has much to do with acquiring Deming's Profound Knowledge–where one is so deeply steeped in the field and subject matter that the essential bones are revealed without any seeming effort. That's the part of classroom experience that I miss (not much of the other stuff)!
Good read. It is no surprise that Dr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi found himself turning to music to learn how to create meaningful lives out of chaos. Music has the power to create a flow state, where difficult tasks can be achieved with ease, in an almost magical way.
When my parents died a song came through that attempted to acknowledge the gifts they had given to me and my 9 siblings during life as well as a final gift they gave as they left this world. It was a transformative experience to write and invariably when I perform this song the atmosphere in the room changes and I hear weeping and see tissues being passed around. It’s one of my highest values in music and live performance to create containers that are strong and safe enough for folks to feel deeply into their lives. It’s far more important than fame or fortune, and every time this magic happens I feel vitally connected to myself, to humanity and to Spirit. Your essay is the first I’ve seen on this important topic. Thank you Ted.
Wonderful, and as always, thank you!
Fascinating and so beautifully written.
I have no musical skills what-so-ever, but have always been athletic and love to move to music.
We had an awful lot of fun performing hyungs (katas or patterns) to music.
A friend of mine wrote an essay for one of his black belt tests. In the essay, he talked about having an out of body experience while in the ring. He saw a disembodied foot or fist in front of him that appeared to be winning the fight. The moment he realized the limbs were his own, and that he might win the competition, the "mushin" moment was gone, losing everything.
As a martial arts instructor, it was very difficult to pick up a hyung in the middle. I often had to start from the beginning or my body could not remember the pattern.
Chaos/Noise vs music and starting a song in the middle: it takes moments to pick up the thread if you just drop the needle half way through a piece, the part so familiar when heard in sequence can feel like nonsense, momentarily, from my own experience.
Coincidentally (or not), Anderson Cooper's new podcast about grief is titled "All There Is" which is a play on the title of the song by Miss Peggy Lee.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/talking-about-grief-with-anderson-cooper
This was an amazing read. I’m going back for another read, much slower, because I raced through it. I’m a novelist and I am addicted to flow. I also did a lot of music growing up and had some traumatic performances where I suddenly realized I was “zoned out” and totally forgot what I was doing. So awful. I wish someone could have helped me through it, I’ve had terrible performance anxiety ever since. This chapter is super helpful to me, even decades later.
Really enjoyed reading this. Great stuff.
Wow, delicious information! Thanks for focusing on it and pulling together such a coherent overview. I look forward to exploring your other posts.
Absolutely fascinating.