Musical Meditations
I happen to be a musician in my spare time, so take what I’m about to
say with a grain of salt. But of all art forms, there’s something
especially sacred — even Buddhist — to me about music.
It’s got something to do with the way music manipulates time, each note
highlighting the present moment as it moves steadily through the
environment of past and future. Electronic composer Éliane Radigue
compares that environment to a river, through which her slowly evolving tones meander, always different, always the same.
Immersion in an awareness of that river can lead to a loss of ego,
because ego is built on past and future narratives. Jazz legend
John Coltrane believed that in seeing through those false narratives, musicians can give “the best of what we are.” On
A Love Supreme, his watershed reimagining of modal jazz, he managed to achieve that aspiration for 33 minutes and 2 seconds.
A particular kind of music, often called “minimalism,” seeks to disrupt
our normal way of listening, intentionally producing these transcendent
moments. Though it’s debatable whether Coltrane could be lumped under
that umbrella, Philip Glass is
essentially a spokesperson for the genre. I remember being excited as a teenager by this sentence from his own liner notes to Music in 12 Parts:
“[W]hen it becomes apparent that nothing ‘happens’ in the usual sense…
[listeners] can perhaps discover another mode of listening — one in
which neither memory nor anticipation… have a place in sustaining the
texture, quality, or reality of the musical experience.”
That sounds a lot like what Laurie Anderson has jokingly called
“difficult listening.” And in fact, Glass admits that this kind of music
can be more of a challenge to its audience than to its performers. But
make no mistake, this music is made for an audience, as he himself
argues.
All three of the musicians featured here consider(ed) themselves
deliverers of liberation from ego, transmitting dharma/grace/awareness
received directly, through their very performance, to any audience brave
enough to listen. In that way, they are all bodhisattvas.
—Andrew Glencross, associate art director,
Lion’s Roar magazine
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