I’ve been threatening for more than a week now to argue with my sister Becca about music, and it’s probably time to put up or shut up.  Thing is, Becca doesn’t like to argue.  Neither do I, if it’s an actual conflict with somebody about something real – but if it’s time to smack some ideas around and beat ‘em with bricks until they ooze idea-juice all over the place?  Sign me up!

So, uh, this one might be boring to normal people.  I’ll just stick the rest under the fold, and you can pretend it isn’t even here!  Pretend I wrote about dog vomit again!  Ahhh, nice soothing dog vomit…

So okay, here’s the quote from Bec’s first music post that got my poor wee brain a-thinkin’:

An example of the cover being better than the original would have to be anything by Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan is proof positive that the American Dream is true — anyone, if they work hard enough, can succeed. Because, lemme tell you, I don’t know how else he got to be such a well-known performer. His voice is just miserable — an unpleasant tone, poor intonation — he’s just terrible! But, he writes really good songs, and for example, Joan Baez singing “Blowing in the Wind” is great (and a huge improvement over him singing it!). Simon and Garfunkel also did a cover of “The Times Are A-Changin” which was far superior to the original.

Hm, sez I.  I am not particularly a Bob Dylan fan, but I suspect there are people who would disagree with her on this.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I disagree, and here’s why: I think Bob Dylan’s (awful – I don’t disagree) voice is part of the point of his songs, and when it’s gone, something significant to the impact of the song is lost.

I am basing this, completely unscientifically, on my own reaction to hearing him sing “Like a Rolling Stone” for the first time.  Weirdly, I’d heard Dylan covers first – and some of those covers, yes, were live amateur sing-alongs, where songs never ever sound their best, and sometimes don’t even sound like songs, particularly.  All this had me giving him a resounding “Meh” as a songwriter.  Nothing there to interest me.

UNTIL I heard “Like a Rolling Stone”, and suddenly I got it.  He belts out “HOW does it FEEEEL??” and in that instant, you know exactly how it feels because he’s laying it all out for you, right there, look at it, it’s ugly but it’s HIS.

And this is something I find really interesting about music as an art form: who’s the artist?  I mean, a performer is an artist, unquestionably.  So is a composer.  Sometimes they’re the same person, but when they’re not, whose voice are we hearing in the music?  Both?  One louder than the other?

I can hear the difference between Yo Yo Ma and Pablo Casals (or I could at one time), if they’re both playing Bach.  I can even form an opinion – I agree with Casals’ interpretation, not so much with Ma’s – but it’s still Bach, and Bach was, presumably, trying to convey something with his work.  I know which one I prefer, but which one would Bach think has got it right?  Does it matter what Bach would think?  Do multiple interpretations enrich the work itself, by giving us new perspectives on it (even if we don’t agree with them)?  Is Bach on the page, with no one playing the music, still art?

There’s this extra step between composer and listener – the musician – that you don’t have with, say, writing.  The writer writes, the reader reads, my mind to your mind, no middleman.  Is a reader more like a musician, interpreting, or like an audience, receiving?   A dancer isn’t passively receiving – a dancer is interpreting.  So if you’re watching Swan Lake, how many layers of art are plastered over each other, and can you still learn anything meaningful about the mind of Tchaikovsky?

I realize I’m getting a little ridiculous here; if you think about it, I’ve just implied that the reader is as much an artist as the performer, and that surely isn’t true.  But the lines aren’t as neat and tidy as we like to think, either.  A reader might turn writer, because another writer set his brain on fire with some idea.  Composers start out as musicians; musicians can turn composer at any time, with just a little improvisation.

Art is, to my mind, a conversation that’s been going on as long as there have been people.  You can listen, you can jump in with something new, you can rephrase something someone else has said, you can let it move you or you can move it.

And Bob Dylan, bless his gravely off-key voice, had something big to say, and part of what he’s saying is, “These songs can be sung by an ordinary guy with limited singing ability!  Listen to all the feeling you can wrest out of a voice like that!  You can sing this too, and you should!  This art is for YOU!”

And I agree with him, absolutely.  We should all be busting out with art, no matter what we sound like.  How does it feel?  You’re the only one who knows.