Music possesses only the pure perfection of fact – a fact rising in rhythms of sound.
Rhythms which seem inhuman, because they’re essentially free from desire, fear and distress.
Free from all the visions of glory, honor or the longing we impose upon music’s facade.
Free from the emotional baggage, without which we cannot listen to any merely human music.
For whatever remains when the merely human has been stripped from our arts, must be the essence of a communication from we know not where… with we know not what.
And how will you reply to this cosmic communication?
How will you speak this language?
In the same manner in which you conduct all your human intercourse?
Will you insist upon only your definitions for the ‘words’ you use?
Can those ‘words/sounds’ represent nothing other than what you already acknowledge?
Will you insist that music can only mean what you, yourself, are already comfortable with?
I repeat… how will you speak this language which has been offered to you?
With the infantile babbling’s of the nursery; with no more thought than that of “I’m hungry?”
Or will you progress just as far as the tantrum state – screaming your immature, insufferably rude “NO” to the universe?
Will you never progress?
Will you ever learn the language of which you’ve been made free – becoming fluent in the most popular, and thus most accessible, higher form of communication…?
Can you not, as yet, free yourself from your own selfish concerns, and talk to the universe?
And now do you see that music has relevance to your life, far beyond that of discordant honks and squeaks from a mad claptrap of assorted hardware?
Now do you see that you’ve been selling yourself short?
How can you possibly understand the attempted communication if you cannot perceive the massive, thundering chorus of meaning, battering at the gates of heaven, which can only be found in the lowliest clarinet duo?
And how will you be persuaded to the experiment, if you cannot hear where the music would guide your – nor feel in your bones how the music might, in fact, have missed a crucial argument… because the composer was only human, after all?
How will you speak the language of the cosmos?
How will you survive a higher form of art, when you cannot even see the resolution of a simple Brahms suspension as the emergence, the ‘coming through’ of two disparate pictures, into a new form, a previously unknown vista of glory, and beauty?
Where is your discernment?