I Cannot Make Music Alone
Imagine you are a drummer or a bassist, but you do not have a band to play with. Or a violinist without an orchestra. Or an alto without a choir. Or you marched on the street with an instrument on your own.
Music should not be played or performed alone. What makes music attractive is the whole listening experience—melody, rhythm, harmony, inflection, expression, and everything else that comes together. The moment we exclude or isolate any of its elements, we rip out the essence, and it will take on a different meaning.
It is possible to make music on our own, perhaps for personal enjoyment. However, why limit ourselves to such a disposition? There is so much to be discovered, learned, experienced, and imprinted on our music-making journey. As the saying goes, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”
There are many roles to be filled when making music. The most obvious one is melody, something that everyone gets hooked on. But without the accompanying bass, harmony, counter-melody, or rhythmic drive, the melody exists in a void. Reverse the situation, and you may have everything in place. But like a karaoke track, it lacks purpose, meaning, and soul.
Let's examine the keyboard of a piano: its 88 keys cover most of the pitches that can be discerned by human ears. Inside the case, there are at least two or three strings tuned to each note. When one note is struck, it does not vibrate on that particular note alone. When the damper pedal is depressed, strings from other notes will vibrate too, especially if they are in the same harmonic series (notes that are mathematically aligned). This sympathetic vibration makes one note sound richer and louder than it actually is, giving us the distinctive piano sound that we are familiar with.
There are also voice ranges to be covered. Low voices may be represented by cello, double bass, or bassoon; middle voices by viola, horn, or clarinet; and high voices by violin, oboe, or flute. Besides the range, these instruments produce different timbres, i.e. tone colours, as well. The blaring metallic tone from the brass section, the peculiar yet complementary tones from different woodwind instruments, the lush, evocative tone from the strings—this symphony of sound provides us an incredible listening experience.
Human voices are unique to each individual. Yet, when we combine all the voice types—soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, and bass—in a choir, it creates this homogeneous, unified sound. It becomes its own entity where no one element is greater than the sum of its parts.
There are instruments, especially polyphonic types such as the piano, organ, or harp, that can perform multiple musical roles by using only two hands. They can make music sound complete in its own universe. Yet, countless music compositions across the centuries request these instruments to interact with monophonic instruments, for example, violin and piano sonatas, piano trios, and piano quintets.
With the advent of technology, a single musician can record multiple tracks in layers as if they were made by several different people. Though sounds may be duplicated, a soul cannot. Many of the greatest recordings across all music genres were the fruit of collaborative effort.
As a case study, let's take a look at Michael Jackson's all-time hit, “Beat It.” Though the singer wrote the song, he needed the assistance of Quincy Jones to make the arrangement and produce the recording. He employed three guitarists to record the guitar lines: Paul Jackson Jr. (rhythm guitar), Steve Lukather (bass/lead guitar), and Eddie Van Halen (guitar solo). And to drive the rhythm, there was Jeff Porcaro on the drums. This 4-minute masterpiece was not a product of one single idea but an amalgamation of different expertise and approaches, a unique collective experience. Not surprisingly, even after decades, we can still feel and relate to this song.
Based on what I have observed for about three decades in making music, I can say that the majority of people that I met in this country—be they singers, instrumentalists, teachers, composers, or conductors—spend so much of their resources, time, and effort to portray music-making as their personal journey to success. This could be getting music jobs, launching albums, winning competitions/awards, going on concert tours, gaining a huge following on social media, earning enough to buy properties, etc. If these are their priorities, I guess they have missed the entire point. Who is going to make all the great music for everyone else to enjoy?
I still remember my years learning the violin. During music examinations, I had to perform with a piano accompaniment for most pieces. Without piano accompaniment, a candidate would fail their exam. In fact, this was true up until my university graduation recital. There were times when I went into panic mode because there were no pianists available. This scenario was very common among classical music learners, except for the pianists themselves. Sometimes I felt envious of them since they didn't have to worry about finding someone else to perform their pieces with. But perhaps the point was not clear enough to many of us music learners: the true assessment was on how we make music in context, not how good we are on our instruments. The engine or the tyres alone do not make the car.
In conclusion, no matter how masterful our musical abilities are, we alone cannot make great music. Music should not be made alone or only for personal reasons. At the very least, we need listeners to react to our work; their responses and constructive criticism will determine our artistic heading. To me, making music alone is akin to living in one’s own delusion. The true beauty of music-making lies in the harmony—when musicians coalesce and paint this reality with beautiful, complementing sounds.