The guitar is a very popular instrument,
lots of people play it and it’s been a valuable part of our life and culture
for a long time. Guitar-playing skill is something we’ve come to value, because
we appreciate the talent and effort it takes to be excellent at it, and also
for the richness the music adds to our lives. We love the quality of a
memorable melody, the subtle shades of emotion created by astute and articulate
harmonies, the primal, enchanting use of rhythm.
So to recognize excellence in
guitar-playing, and to encourage its continuation, we decide to have a
guitar-playing contest.
Someone suggests that we should just let
the audience vote. But that would only determine which music is the most
popular, not necessarily the best musically. So we decide that the best judges
would be the contestants themselves.
They listen to each others’ playing,
evaluate it, discuss it together and arrive a general consensus on who the best
player -- or at least, the best player of the moment -- is. While they are
candid about the flaws in a contestant’s playing, they are also effusive with
praise for others’ talents and modest about their own. The friendly, collegial
nature of the contests becomes legendary.
Guitar fans of all stripes flock to the
contests. Even those who don’t personally know any of the contestants. One
thing they can be sure of: no matter who eventually wins, they will hear some
wonderful guitar music during the course of event.
Then to make it less of a “burden” on the
contestants, and also to add to the stature of the event, we decide to have
non-contestants judge the event. We recruit as judges renown guitar teachers, famous composers of guitar music, and perhaps
even some past winners of the contest. Each of them has a slightly different
preference: one is a classical guitarist, one is a jazz guitarist, one plays
flamenco. But they all still agree on foundational elements like melodic
quality, harmonic quality, and rhythmic quality.
Despite the subjectivity of the process
and the lack of absolute and universal agreement, the whole contest thing works
out pretty well overall. Excellent guitarists get a little bit of fame and
fortune, and fledgling guitarists have a little added incentive to practice ---
hoping to playing well enough to enter the contest one day.
The system certainly isn’t perfect. There
aren’t always enough good judges available, it’s hard to get them all together
in one place at one time, and it’s pricey to cover their expenses for the job.
And there’s that subjective factor that leaves fans of certain players or
certain regions or certain styles of music disgruntled when their favorite
fails to win the first place prize. Mind
you, a lot of these fans aren’t really fans of the guitar, or guitarists, or
even music, but they are most definitely fans of winning; they derive vicarious
egotistical satisfaction from having “their” guitarist or “their” town or “their”
musical style win the prize.
Someone -gets the bright idea to eliminate
the “subjectivity” from the judging by inventing a machine to take over the job.
The machine they create does not have the
capacity to evaluate melodic quality, or harmonic quality or rhythmic quality.
The machine can only measure decibels and count the number of notes played per
measure.
So that becomes the criteria for winning
the contest.
Not melody.
Not harmony.
Not rhythm.
Just how loud you can play and how fast
you can play.
The loudest, fastest guitarist wins the
prize.
Young, up-and-coming guitarists begin to
abandon melody, harmony and rhythm because these elements are no longer
relevant to winning the contest -- and the fame and fortune that comes with it.
They focus on what’s important: play loud and play fast.
Guitarists who retain an attachment to
melody, harmony and rhythm lose interest in the contest now, not just because
they can’t play loud enough and fast enough to win it (which is what the
louder-faster players claim) but because it simply isn’t pleasant to either
play or to listen to. Indeed, they don’t consider it music at all, but noise.
Playing with articulate melody, adroit
harmony, and captivating rhythm requires a much longer time, and particular
precision of effort. Only a relative few
can dedicate themselves to it. But the
ability to play loud and fast can be accomplished in very short period of time
and almost anyone can learn to do it. So it becomes very popular and guitar
playing gets “democratized.” The
louder-faster group points this out as a great progress. “More people are
playing the guitar today than ever before,” they cheer.
Because the loud-fast guitarists don’t
have to invest that same time and effort as the “traditional” guitarists, they
have no idea what that process entails. They therefore tend to grossly
under-estimate what’s involved and grossly under-value it. The result is that
the loud-fast guitarist has no particular admiration, regard or respect for
traditional guitar players -- or for their own ilk, either for that matter.
Their behavior toward each other deteriorates to an infantile level of brooding
tantrum when they lose, and displays of narcissistic self-adulation when they
win.
Audiences begin to stay away in droves. A
few spectators still attend to “support” a friend (or their guitarist from their town…)
but no one comes to listen to the music anymore. There isn’t any.
Eventually, all the “traditional”
guitarists either retire, or die off. A whole new generation of loud-fast
guitarists is born who have never heard any other kind of guitar-playing, can’t
even imagine that another kind of guitar-playing could ever have existed.
Every once in a while, someone may refer
to the “old-fashioned” way of guitar-playing,
a quaint and silly practice based on some odd notions of obsolete things
called melody, harmony and rhythm, beyond which we have now thankfully evolved.
And all the “modern” guitarists can do is shake their heads in wonder that their
foolish forbears could have been so caught up in irrelevancies.
-aac
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