Lately I've been reading about the Slow Movement and its accompanying philosophies (Slow Food, Slow Sex, Slow Work, Slow Exercise and so on). Seeing as how my hometown was recently designated a Slow City, whether deservedly or not, I thought Carl Honore's In Praise of Slowness deserved at least casual investigation. Admittedly it has been a fairly easy and generic read thus far, employing all-too-convenient demonstrations of its principles in a thoroughly repetitious manner. I could see how some would object to its rather insubstantial evidence, but since I tend to agree with the entirety of the book's content, I'm fine to let it be. While the reading hasn't taught me too much that I didn't know or couldn't infer, there was one particular chapter that really got me thinking. It was the chapter on music.
Apparently modern classical musicians have a tendency to up the tempo on works of old. Many of the original scores of Mozart were intended to be played at as much as half the speed of its contemporary iterations. Some of the speculated reasons for this lie in the Industrial Revolution. With a newfound emphasis on speed and efficiency, the Western world came to agree that faster meant better. The advent of the virtuoso player only seemed to escalate the problem. As instruments become more advanced, and players more enthusiastic, tempos rose. Speed and skill began to replace evocative mood and feeling. Song-lengths began shedding minutes like pets shed winter coats. The modern standard sits at roughly 3-4 minutes for a commercially successful piece of work. Yet nothing illustrates the extreme of this trend quite like grindcore.
Three-second-long songs at a million miles an hour? No big deal. It's all part of the territory. But also as far away from classical composers as one can get. (Although I did recently hear an amazing orchestral rendition of Converge's song "Jane Doe"). What I'm curious about, however, is the potential fact that metal music, which I hold so dear, happens to be the culminating product of industrial society's sickening obsession with speed and efficiency.
Tech death anyone?
Thinking about metal in this way isn't so appealing for me. One could probably make the case that metal exists only to fuel our stimulant-addicted modern minds. Can we no longer deal with silence? I for one realized that I tend to fill quiet moments with music, just because I can. But by doing so, I'm hampering my mind's ability to create meaningful inner dialogue. The result is stunted mental communication and a general lack of self-reflection. Both things I deem essential to a satisfying human existence. Sure, I've written essays while cranking Gojira, but was I thereby compromising the quality of my work?
As much as I love metal and music as a whole, I'm find that it certainly has a time and a place, as well as a tempo. I don't need to fill every spare moment with rapid-fire notes. I fear losing touch with the interior parts of myself by doing so. I can appreciate the passion and intensity of metal, and will continue to do so, yet with a little more mindfulness. After all, I think it's only fair and necessary to occasionally question from whence things came.
In the end, you don't have to be an adherent to the Slow Movement to stop and take a moment for yourself every once in a while. Simply appreciate the silence. There's richness to be found in your own mind as well; outside of today's industrial-strength stimulants.
That means no music video today. Sorry.
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