(Not “The Power of Love.” This isn’t “Back to the Future” or Huey Lewis and the News.)
Have you ever heard a piece of music that everyone says is extraordinary and wondered, “What’s wrong with me? I don’t get it. I know this is supposed to be great, but I’m not feeling it.”
Or worse: “I must not be smart enough to understand this music. I think I’ll go eat worms.”
This is where the lore surrounding great composers can become problematic. Before the music even begins, we already know what we’re supposed to feel about it.
If it’s Bach, it’s masterful. I must love it.If it’s Mozart, it’s perfection. I must love it.
If it’s Beethoven, it’s profound. I must love it.
Sometimes that automatic admiration is completely deserved. Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven transformed music, and their greatest works are astonishing. But great reputations don’t make every piece a masterpiece, and historical importance doesn’t guarantee a personal connection.
It can be surprisingly difficult to admit when music by a great composer doesn’t move us, especially when the culture has already declared that music sublime. We may begin to wonder whether the problem is us. Perhaps we lack the intelligence, insight, education, or sophistication to hear what everyone else seems to hear.
But listening is not an examination, and admiration is not an obligation.
We can understand why a piece matters, study its construction, respect its beauty, and still not love it. We can recognize mastery, complexity, influence, and profundity and remain unmoved.
That doesn’t mean our first reaction is always right. Education matters. History matters. Repeated listening matters. Sometimes learning more opens our ears to things we couldn’t hear before.
But education should deepen our listening skills, not replace our own response with someone else’s.
After all these years in classical music, I’ve learned to listen with an open mind. I read. I study. I listen again. And I’m grateful for the extraordinary music I’ve encountered throughout my years at BTPM Classical.
But at the end of the day, our feelings are our own. We don’t have to poo-poo them because lore tells us we’re supposed to feel something else.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Write to me at mwimmer@btpm.org, or comment below.
