Ferruccio Busoni's Sketch of a New Aesthetic of Music appeared in 1910. Schoenberg, in his copy of the little book, wrote critical marginal comments which crystallize two opposed outlooks in musical aesthetics. Busoni writes: Notation, the writing out of compositions, is primarily an ingenious expedient for catching an inspiration, with the purpose of exploiting it later. But notation is to improvisation as the portrait is to the living model… …What the composer's inspiration necessarily loses through notation, his interpreter should restore (...) by his own…. (shrink)

This essay attempts to address the question, "What makes an improvised jazz solo a maturation of the possibilities of this artform?" It begins by considering the significance of one distinguishable feature of an improvised jazz solo - how it ends - in light of Joseph Kerman's seemingly parallel consideration of the historical development of how classical concertos end. After showing the limits of this comparison, the essay proposes a counter-parallel, between the jazz improviser's attitude toward the solo's end and Ludwig (...) Wittgenstein's attitude toward our (or philosophy's) arriving at the end of justifications. The parallel depends on one's granting that both the improviser and Wittgenstein are, in their distinct ways, doing battle against the recurring human fantasy of the fixity of experience. (shrink)

This essay presents an approach to understanding improvised music, finding in the work of certain outstanding jazz musicians an emblem of Ralph Waldo Emerson's notion of self-trust and of Stanley Cavell's notion of moral perfectionism. The essay critiques standard efforts to interpret improvised solos as though they were composed, contrasting that approach to one that treats the procedures of improvisation as derived from our everyday actions. It notes several levels of correspondence between our interest in jazz improvisations and the particular (...) demands of Emerson's writing, and ends by considering how exemplary moments of instruction in jazz are expressive of Emersonian self-trust. (shrink)

I argue for an ontology of jazz according to which it is a tradition of musical performances but no works of art. I proceed by rejecting three alternative proposals: (i) that jazz is a work performance tradition, (ii) that jazz performances are works of art in themselves, and (iii) that jazz recordings are works of art. I also note that the concept of a work of art involved (1) is nonevaluative, so to deny jazz works of art is not to (...) judge it inferior to artistic traditions with works, and (2) is univocal across other musical traditions, so to claim there are works of art in jazz would be to use a different sense of the term than we use when, say, discussing classical music. (shrink)

Speakers routinely rely on a vast store of fixed and semi-fixed institutionalized utterances. In our mother tongue, we know how to combine pre-patterned phrases, complete semi-fixed expressions, and produce deviant versions for humorous effect. There are analogies with the way traditional folk musicians embellish tunes with a largely fixed structure, and the way jazz musicians improvise, and also with oral traditions in which poets composed or improvised tales during performance by using fixed formulas and formulaic phrases (though without the metrical (...) requirements of Homeric poetry). In written literature, the use of ready-made language was long disparaged as the opposite of creativity, but Barthes describes both speech and literature in general as consisting entirely of transformations of words that have already been set in order, and describes individual style as essentially a citational process, and the transformation of earlier formulae. Formulaic language can be shown to underlie much linguistic creativity. (shrink)

Not long ago, I was perusing a commentary on Verdi’s Aida, and came across the following observation: the music toward the end of the Nile Scene, in which Aida and Radames resolve to flee Egypt, is the same as that of Radames’s entrance earlier.

Jerrold Levinson’s Music in the Moment is a welcome addition to the impressive list of books in aesthetics, particularly the philosophy of music, published in the last several years by Cornell University Press. In it Levinson expounds and defends a view, inspired by the work of the nineteenth-century English psychologist and musician Edmund Gurney, that he calls “concatenationism.” This view is billed as “a defense of the intuitive listener” against Schenkerian and other “architectonicist” theorists promoting the notion that “elaborate apprehensions (...) of the form and technique of music are necessary to understanding it”. (shrink)