Music is a particular kind of sound that deserves its own thread. But thinking about sound and space as I have here has helped me to understand what music is—or really, what the difference is between music and the other kind of sound, noise.
When is music music and when is it noise? When is noise noise and when is it music? At first glance this seems so particular to the person and the personality. My grandpa always used to call rock ’n’ roll “that banging”—it was noise to him. And I’ve been to a concert or two where the “music” I was supposedly listening to really just seemed like noise.
Can we explain this without just saying that it’s all a matter of taste? I think we now can, when we think, as we have been, about how sound and space interact.
Two kinds of sound: noise and music. The difference between them is that, while noise can only fill space—banish it—music can both fill and create space. Or, I should say, music can do either. Depending on the sensibility of the listener, that is.
Rock ’n’ roll was noise to my grandpa because for him, it could only crowd him in. Deny him space. It was and is music to me because, if I love it, it creates a beautiful bubble of peace within and around me. This is how the iPod works on the crowded, noisy train. And the fiddle in the coal mine, for that matter. Music takes a suffocating environment and creates breathing room. But if you can’t appreciate the particular music, it has the opposite effect: it’s noise to you, and banishes your personal space.
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