... against musical immanentism ...
Some years ago I stood in a small cemetery in the mountains while an old woman sang over an open grave. Her voice was no longer a good voice by any standard a conservatory would recognise. It trembled, it narrowed, it broke twice on the same syllable, and the second break was more devastating than the first. Nobody present consulted anything. Nobody needed to be told what had just occurred, and if a theorist had stepped forward at that moment to explain that what we had heard was a succession of frequencies organised around a tonal center, he would have spoken correctly and said nothing, which is the peculiar way of being wrong that only exact disciplines can afford. I have carried that afternoon with me ever since, less as a memory than as a kind of touchstone , because everything I believe about music, and everything I am about to say against one of its most respectable doctrines, is contained in the simple fact that her voice, failing, r...