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CHAPTER 32
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12 TOWARDS A POLITICAL
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AESTHETICS OF MUSIC
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DAVID HESMONDHALGH
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20 This chapter outlines a political aesthetics of music. The aim is to produce a
21 framework that would allow for the evaluation of musical institutions,
22 processes, and developments, in terms of how music, in its various insti-
23 tutional, technological, and textual forms, might inhibit or promote human
24 flourishing. This aesthetics is “political” in a broader sense of politics than
25 that which is concerned with analysing, for example, how social movements
26 use music or whether certain musical texts reinforce or resist ideology—
27 though this is not to deny the importance of these matters, and it can include
28 them too.
29 In modern capitalist societies, music is a mode of communication and
30 culture oriented primarily towards artistic expression and experience. To
31 consider music’s ability or otherwise to enhance people’s lives requires
32 engaging with the significance of the domain of art and aesthetics in modern
33 society. I mean “art” in a broad sense: the use of skills to produce works of
34 the imagination, to invoke feelings of pleasure, beauty, shock, excitement,
35 and so on. The social value of artistic practices and experiences, like edu-
36 cation and culture more broadly, has come under attack in recent years.
37 Politicians and commentators question the value of art (see O’Connor 2006
38 for a brilliant critique of one such case) and. in the British context in which
39 I write, savage cuts in education, library, and arts funding are under way.
40 This will almost certainly have an enormous effect on musical practice. The
41 U.K. case is not untypical: in many societies, music and other forms of
42 culture and knowledge are increasingly prone to being treated as activities
1 music), their work encouraged much greater engagement with the incom-
2 plete, uncertain and open nature of human subjectivity.
3 But this engagement came at a cost. The profound hostility of these
4 writers and their followers to humanism swayed many cultural studies
5 analysts towards a suspicion of categories such as aesthetics, experience, and
6 even emotion (“affect” being the preferred anti-humanist concept). Such
7 ways of thinking—which were by no means peculiar to cultural studies but
8 influenced a range of critical thought in the humanities and social sci-
9 ences—may have ended up unwittingly strengthening the hand of social
0 groups who might seek to benefit from the erosion of intellectual and artistic
11 autonomy, especially big business and its allies in the state apparatus. (Of
12 course not all cultural studies followed this route. Exceptions include Frith
13 1996; Negus and Pickering 2004; and the work of Raymond Williams.)
14 Times change, and different approaches are called for. I believe that we
15 need a much richer account of the role of culture in people’s lives, and the
16 relation of culture to people’s attempts—always uncertain, constrained and
17 uneven, often failing—to live a good life. This particular focus on experience
18 needs an account of subjectivity that understands people as emotional
19 beings, recognizing that culture has a problematic but important relation-
20 ship to this dimension of our lives. Dynamics of power, history, and
21 inequality, forefronted by the best versions of cultural studies, need inte-
22 grating with these issues.
23 We must turn to other traditions if we are to evaluate in a more rounded
24 way the role of artistic experience in modern societies, and specifically music
25 as a form of artistic experience. I have chosen to address only two here, neo-
26 Aristotelianism and pragmatism, since they raise questions of emotion and
27 experience in relation to artistic practice, questions that I find of particular
28 interest. This is necessarily abstract, and abstraction is good because it allows
29 for the identification of underlying principles. But I’ll then make the discus-
30 sion more sociologically concrete by discussing some potential relations of
31 music to human flourishing (or otherwise) in modern societies. As I do so,
32 I’ll explore in greater depth what I mean by a critical defence of music—one
33 that recognizes that the deeply scarred nature of modern societies is bound
34 to affect music.
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37 MUSIC, EMOTION AND EXPERIENCE
38 One notable tradition that has been neglected for many years by those who
39 pursue the critical cultural study of music can be designated “Aristotelian.”
40 The concept of human flourishing that I have already referred to in passing
41 derives from this. The neo-Aristotelian philosopher Martha Nussbaum
42 (2003) has provided one recent attempt to explain how the experience of art
1 might enhance human life. The context for her account is an analysis of the
2 ethical importance of emotions, against the preference for the application of
3 detached intellect apparent in much philosophy (and reflected in some
4 forms of cultural policy). Nussbaum first argues that emotions have a nar-
5 rative structure. “The understanding of any single emotion is incomplete,”
6 she writes, “unless its narrative history is grasped and studied for the light it
7 sheds on the present response” (p. 236). This suggests a central role for the
8 arts in human self-understanding, because narrative artworks of various
9 kinds (whether musical or visual or literary) “give us information about
0 these emotion-histories that we could not easily get otherwise.” (p. 236) So
11 narrative artworks are important for what they show the person who is eager
12 to understand the emotions; also because of the role they play in people’s
13 emotional lives.
14 Importantly, Nussbaum grounds her conception of emotions in a psy-
15 choanalytically-informed account of subjectivity. Rather than the bizarrely
16 nonfeeling subject to be found in the Lacanian tradition favored by much
17 post-structuralist cultural studies, she draws on object relations analysts
18 such as D. W. Winnicott (1971). For Nussbaum and Winnicott, the poten-
19 tially valuable role that artistic experience might play in people’s lives is
20 suggested by studies of infant experience of stories and of play. Storytelling
21 and narrative play cultivate the child’s sense of her own aloneness, her inner
22 world. The capacity to be alone is supported by the way in which such play
23 develops the ability to imagine the good object’s presence when the object is
24 not present, and play deepens the inner world. Narrative play can help
25 us understand the pain of others, and to see them in noninstrumental
26 ways. Children can be given a way of understanding their own sometimes
27 frightening and ambivalent psychology, so that they become interested in
28 understanding their subjectivity, rather than fleeing from it. Stories and play
29 can militate against depression and helplessness, by feeding the child’s
30 interest “in living in a world in which she is not perfect or omnipotent”
31 (237). They contribute to the struggle of love and gratitude versus ambiva-
32 lence, and of active concern against the helplessness of loss. These dynamics
33 continue into adult life—this of course is a fundamental insight of psycho-
34 analytically informed thought—and adults too benefit from narrative play.
35 How might this relate to music as a special case of cultural and aesthetic
36 experience? Rightly, in my view, Nussbaum claims that much music, in most
37 modern societies, is closely connected to emotions, or at least is ideally
38 thought to be so. But music as such doesn’t contain representational or
39 narrative structures of the sort that are the typical objects of concrete
40 emotions in life, or in other kinds of aesthetic experience such as films or
41 novels. This makes it less obvious how music itself can be about our lives.
42 Music is of course often linked to stories, in songs, operas, ballads, and so
1 on, and, even when it isn’t, is often highly discursively mediated, by the use
2 of titles, instructions on scores, or critical discourse that seeks to interpret
3 what music means. But we still need an account of the way musical sounds
4 address emotion and feeling.
5 Nussbaum delineates (p. 272) a number of ways in which narrative fic-
6 tion, such as novels and plays, allow for emotion on the part of the reader/
7 spectator. Emotions can be felt
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9 • towards characters, sharing emotion through identification or
0 reacting against the emotions of a character
11 • towards the sense of life embodied in the text as a whole, reacting
12 to it sympathetically or critically
13 • towards one’s own possibilities
14 • in response to coming to understand something about life or about
15 oneself.
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17 Musical artworks can play the same role, says Nussbaum, but with the emo-
18 tional material embodied in peculiarly musical forms. Music’s distinctive
19 language is one of compressed and elliptical reference to our inner lives
20 and our prospects; for Nussbaum, it is close to dreaming in this respect.
21 Our responses to music are crystallizations of general forms of emotion,
22 rather than reactions to characters, as in narrative fiction; so most musical
23 emotions, for Nussbaum, fall into the second and third of the categories
24 listed above. Nussbaum agrees with Schopenhauer that music is “well-suited
25 to express parts of the personality that lie beneath its conscious self-
26 understanding” (p. 269), bypassing habit and intellect. Music “frequently
27 has an affinity with the amorphous, archaic, and extremely powerful emo-
28 tional materials of childhood’ (ibid.). Its semiotic indefiniteness gives it a
29 superior power to engage with our emotions.
30 Using examples from Mahler, Nussbaum claims that musical works can
31 contain structures in which great pain is crystallised and which construct
32 “an implied listener who experiences that burning pain” (p. 272); or they
33 may “contain forms that embody the acceptance of the incredible remote-
34 ness of everything that is good and fine” and construct a listener who
35 experiences desolation. Or a musical work may contain forms that embody
36 the “hope of transcending the pettiness of daily human transactions.”’ Music
37 is somehow able to embody “the idea of our urgent need for and attachment
38 to things outside ourselves that we do not control” (p. 272). This capacity is
39 not natural; it is the product of complex cultural histories, and experience
40 of such emotions depends on familiarity with the conventions that allow
41 them, either through everyday experience of musical idioms or through
42 education. These emotions might be hard to explicate as they happen, and
1 not all works invoke deep emotion—they can just be enjoyable or inter-
2 esting. But music provides its own version of the ways in which stories and
3 play potentially enhance our lives, by cultivating and enriching our inner
4 world, and by feeding processes of concern, sympathy, and engagement,
5 against helplessness and isolation.
6 Nussbaum suggests the fruitfulness of an approach that relates the value
7 of art to human well-being, emotion, and experience, and which also
8 addresses the specificity of music as part of that account. Of course, music
9 might fail much of the time to do this. Nussbaum is suggesting what music
0 can offer, how it might add to our capabilities, our prospects for living
11 different versions of a good life. It may be however that her explication is
12 centered too much on a model of a listening self that is contemplative and
13 self-analytical. This suggests that the defence of a wider range of artistic
14 experience might need to look to other sources. One potential starting point
15 is the American educationalist and pragmatist philosopher John Dewey,
16 who, in the helpful gloss of Richard Shusterman, argues that art’s special
17 function and value lie “not in any specialized particular end but in satisfying
18 the live creature in a more global way, by serving a variety of ends, and above
19 all by enhancing our immediate experience which invigorates and vitalizes
20 us, thus aiding our achievement of whatever further ends we pursue”
21 (Shusterman 2000, 9). Art is thus at once instrumentally valuable and a
22 satisfying end in itself. Art “keeps alive the power to experience the common
23 world in its fullness,” in Dewey’s words ([1934] 1980, 138), and provides the
24 means to make our lives more meaningful and tolerable through the
25 introduction of a “satisfying sense of unity” into experience. This emphasis
26 on experience in no way precludes the importance of meaning and reflec-
27 tion, and does not rely on a naive romantic notion of immediacy as the basis
28 of art’s power. Dewey confusingly merged artistic and aesthetic experience,
29 but to see the experience of music, stories, and visual art as ordinary, as part
30 of the flow of life, and as continuous with other forms of aesthetic expe-
31 rience (such as finding a person or a landscape deeply attractive) fits well
32 with Raymond Williams’s statements about the simultaneous ordinariness
33 and extraordinariness of culture and creativity (for example in Williams
34 1965). It makes room for forms of artistic expression and entertainment that
35 are less about contemplation, and more about energetic kinesthesis, and
36 (thoughtful) engagement of the body. Shusterman (2000, 184) gives the
37 example of how funk embodies an aesthetic, which he sees as derived from
38 Africa, of “vigorously active and communally impassioned engagement.”
39 Shusterman is rather too inclined to dismiss other experiences of music as
40 “dispassionate, judgemental remoteness” in his efforts to defend popular art;
41 and not all dancing experiences are as communal as he suggests. Simon
42 Frith’s sociologically informed aesthetic of popular music (1996) may get
1 CONCLUDING COMMENTS
2 There are of course many other ways in which music might contribute to
3 human well-being, even if, in doing so, it is subject to constraints. But in this
4 final section, I want merely to address a couple of potential objections to
5 the way of thinking about music that I have advocated in this chapter.
6 First of all, given my emphasis on emotion and experience, is the critical
7 defence of music sketched here an attempt to smuggle back bourgeois
8 individualism into the critical cultural analysis of music? We experience the
9 world as individuals, and it is good to recognize that fact, while understand-
0 ing that individual experience is always socially determined and mediated.
11 Aristotelianism and pragmatism can be complements to the socialism, femi-
12 nism, and multiculturalism that guide much progressive thinking. Marx
13 himself had a deeply Aristotelian conception of humanity (Elster 1985).
14 Second, is this outline of a political aesthetics of music based on human
15 flourishing an abnegation of real politics, given that politics is inevitably
16 about collectivities? It is certainly a counter to the equation of a politics of
17 music with the question, “Can music change the world?” There is nothing
18 wrong with this question, as long as it is not assumed to exhaust our under-
19 standing of the politics, or social significance, of music. Nothing can change
20 anything by itself! However much we want to see the world become a better
21 place, surely none of us would want to see music evaluated solely on the basis
22 of the degree to which it contributes to social change. It has other purposes
23 which might be thought of as indirectly political. What I’m suggesting is that
24 the best way to approach this array of potential functions is in terms of the
25 distinctive abilities of music—distinct from other forms of human endeavor,
26 and from other forms of artistic practice and experience—to contribute to
27 human flourishing, and the ways in which social and political dynamics
28 inhibit or promote these capacities.
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31 FURTHER READING
32 Frith, Simon. 1998. Performing rites: On the value of popular music. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Gracyk, Theodore. 1996. Rhythm and noise: An aesthetics of rock. London and New York: I. B. Tauris.
33 Hesmondhalgh, David. 2008. Towards a critical understanding of music, emotion and self-identity.
34 Consumption, Markets and Culture 11(4): 329–343.
35 Keat, Russell. 2000. Cultural goods and the limits of the market. London and New York: Routledge.
Negus, Keith, and Michael Pickering. 2004. Creativity, communication and cultural value., London,
36 Thousand Oaks, CA, and New Delhi: Sage.
37 Nussbaum, Martha. 2003 Upheavals of thought: The intelligence of emotions. Cambridge, U.K.:
38 Cambridge University Press.
Shusterman, Richard. 2000. Pragmatist aesthetics: Living beauty, rethinking Art. 2nd edn. Lanham,
39 MD: Rowman and Littlefield.
40 Toynbee, Jason. 2007. Bob Marley: Herald of a postcolonial world? Cambridge, U.K.: Polity.
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