John Reese, Composer and Ardent Formulist

“Music is a universal language.”

So we were all taught in elementary school music classes.  Music that is beautiful, stirring, or inspirational can be appreciated by people everywhere regardless of culture, creed, or ethnicity.  Those who are prevented by language barriers from communicating directly can be brought together by the wordless spell cast by a skillfully rendered melody.  We are all brothers and sisters united under the shared experience of song.

It’s a beautiful idea.  But it simply isn’t true.

To delve into this further, we must first address the question of whether music is a language at all, or if it has been misidentified by generous application of poetic license.  I think the scientific evidence shows that it is indeed a language, or at the very least, a form of communication that is very closely related to language.  Language emerges from two structures in the human brain, Broca’s area, which is responsible for the expression of language (speech and writing), and Wernicke’s area, which is responsible for the reception of language (comprehending speech and text).  The structures in the human brain that are responsible for the expression and reception of music are almost identical to these areas, albeit located on the opposite hemisphere and considerably less well-developed. The hemisphere on which the musical centers are located is often referred to as the “right brain” or “non-dominant” hemisphere, but it may be more accurate to call it the “non-verbal” hemisphere. One may infer from this physiological evidence that music is, in effect, a non-verbal language.

This isn’t strictly true, however.  Music takes many forms, just as verbal languages do. These forms, usually referred to somewhat innaccurately as “genres”, correspond to different cultures in much the same manner as spoken languages. So, to be more accurate, music is a collection of non-verbal languages.

To further develop this idea, let us look more closely at what makes one language different from another.

Vocabulary

“It’s like those French have a different word for everything!”

–Steve Martin

This joke underscores the absurdity of reducing language to vocabulary.  Clearly, there is more to the French language than the substitution of English words for French.  This would imply that there is one standard reference language from which all others are derived, which is obviously an ethno-centric viewpoint.  Different languages, even those that spring from the same root language (such as the Romance languages), have different grammars.  It’s not enough to simply learn the words, you must know the rules by which those words are put together.

Music, of course, has no vocabulary.  The fact that vocabulary makes up only a relatively small part of what constitutes a verbal language makes it somewhat easier to understand how a language can exist with no vocabulary at all.

Grammar

The aspect of grammar that is most applicable to music is syntax.  Syntax in verbal language describes the rules by which words are combined to convey meaning.  In music, there are rules as well, and these rules vary wildly from one musical language to the next. 
 
Different cultures throughout history have placed different cultural demands on music.  In some musical languages, the tritone is forbidden as either a harmonic or melodic interval.  In others, the melodic fifth and octave are permitted, but no interval between the two. 

Parallelism between perfect intervals was permitted in the early days of counterpoint, was forbidden for a few centuries, then once again permitted. Similarly, asymetric meters were common during the Rennaisance, disappeared during the Baroque, Classical, and Romantic eras, then re-emerged in the 20th century.

Syntax in music is all about the appropriateness of different musical actions within specific musical sub-cultures, not just those evolving over time but those that exist contemporaneously with each other.  A good example would be the role of improvisation.  Today, improvisation is strictly controlled in symphonic and choral music, is encouraged in most popular music, and is at the very core of jazz.  Even with music that is hundreds of years old, performance traditions have changed so that different levels of improvisation have been applied at different times, and there are in fact competing factions to this day that argue over how a particular piece “should” be performed.

Clearly, there are different syntactical rules for different musical languages.  However, the real test of whether these differences are sufficient to justify separating genres into languages is meaning.  This is where semantics comes into play.

Semantics

Noam Chomsky broke semantics down into two layers: Surface meaning, which varies between languages, and deep meaning, which is essentially the same everywhere in the world. 

The whole concept of “meaning” in music is tricky, because what music conveys has little to do with external reality.  It is a self-contained system of communication, where the meaning is self-referential.  Unlike verbal languages, which are used to mirror external realities (and to a lesser extent, subjective experiences), music mirrors only itself.  What meaning it has is relevant only to music. 

While it is true that music is sometimes used to represent external realities (tone painting or mimicry), this is essentially window-dressing, since the music can be understood independently of these representations.  I enjoyed the vocal music of Bach for years before I became aware of the extent to which he used tone-painting to mirror the ideas conveyed in the text.  Knowledge of this added another dimension to my enjoyment, but it wasn’t necessary.  There was really very little difference between music that was supposed to represent a non-musical idea (such as sadness, running water, or the sensation of falling), and music that was clearly written to communicate only musical ideas (compositions such as the concerto or fugue). In the music of Bach particularly, there always seems to be a disconnect between tone painting and the musical ideas, as if there is a stream of musical thought that is completely ignorant of the non-musical ideas it is meant to express.

So here we see a hint of Chomsky’s model of semantics in that there are at least two layers of meaning in music, and in most music the extra-musical meaning is absent.  Like verbal languages, I believe that there is a very deep meaning conveyed through music that is, in fact, universal.  This meaning has to do with very non-specific subjective experiences that we all share: Joy, sadness, restlessness, contentment.  Although music is often interpreted as being joyful or sad, there is often no direct intention on the part of composers to communicate such obvious emotions.  What is conveyed is even more basic than this, reaching all the way down to the reptilian instincts within us all.  Conflict, motion, rest, warmth…these are the sort of things that music communicates on the deepest level.

Perhaps the most basic aspect of the human experience that is touched and mirrored by music is something so ubiquitous that it is often overlooked: Timing.  While timing is not considered as noble and lofty as things like courage, longing, and love, it is every bit as important to us, if not more.  It has been discovered that rhythmic motion is crucial to the development of motor skills, which is why infants of many species respond positively to being rocked.  We are creatures of motion, who can only experience the world by moving through it in a rhythmic fashion.  As soon as we lose track of the metronome within us, we lose our ability to negotiate our environment, as well as to communicate.

The importance of timing is overlooked until, by illness or injury, we lose it temporarily or permanently.  Whether we realize it or not, though, it also becomes evident when we listen to music. Since timing helps form the basis of what makes us all human, this crucial element of music is instantly comprehended wherever it is heard.

We could therefore argue that music is a universal language because of the deep meaning it conveys.  However, we would then have to acknowledge that verbal languages are just as universal for the same reason.

There are huge differences between the surface semantics, as well as the syntax, among different musical languages.  The syntax of symphonic music is immensely more complex than that of popular music in terms of large structures, while popular music may be more complex in the tactical details such as rhythm. Go back far enough in the development of Western music, and you will find syntax where rhythm and harmony are non-existent, but rules about melodic structure and modes are so much more complex than that of music we hear today that it sounds like nonsense to those unfamiliar with it.  

Serial music of the twentieth century presents the same problem.  Doing away with the concept of key center was a major paradigm shift in the development of music, and to those rooted in the diatonic tradition it sounds like a cacophany of wrong notes.  Again, the problem is that the syntax is so different from that of traditional Western harmony that it can’t be understood by the uninitiated, any more than Swahili can be understood by someone who only speaks English.

Symphonic music has essentially the same melodic and harmonic syntax as popular music, but to those familiar only with the latter genre it may be baffling because of the use of strategic patterns that are seldom heard on the radio.  Symphonic music is thematic, meaning that recognizable musical ideas are not simply stated and repeated, but are shaped and developed over time to extract their complete potential.  Add to this the variety of different textures used, the tendency to drift from the home key, and the use of transitional passages, and it becomes clear that symphonic music is really a different language entirely.

This isn’t simply a matter of syntax. There are whole hierarchies of meaning to be found in classical music, with its emphasis on thematic development and its use of complex structural elements.  While there are syntactical elements in popular music that are not found in “serious” music, the same really isn’t true for semantics.  The closest popular music comes to surpassing the more sophisticated forms in this respect can perhaps be found in the improvisational element.  However, this aspect of music seems to flirt with the boundary between syntax and semantics.  Is improvisation a sort of musical “meaning” in itself, or is it simply a means to communicate that meaning? 

At any rate, improvisation has existed in classical music for centuries in the form of such techniques as rubato, continuo realization, and cadenza.  It is simply far more restricted than it is in popular music; its importance far less critical. Does the added emphasis on improvisation in popular music shift this particular aspect, that of spontaneous creativity, from the realm of syntax into that of semantics?  It’s an interesting question that I will no doubt be pondering for some time.

I would like to continue to examine this idea of music as language. As always, I will do my best to find out what others, perhaps far more qualified than I, have had to say on the subject.

Update (4/15/2011):
After completing this entry, I read an article that made me realize I had missed a major aspect of musical semantics, and that is: Pattern recognition. Like timing, this is something that is central to the experience not just of humans, but of many (if not most) other organisms.

Pattern recognition is what thematic development is all about. It gives us pleasure to be able to pick out and recognize constantly morphing patterns in music. Unfortunately, this rarely occurs in popular music, since it requires a fairly sophisticated ear to recognize thematic patterns unless they remain essentially unchanged.