The Sweet Spot (2)
A rationale for making music truly accessible
In a post from a few weeks ago, I laid out the ethos behind my desire to make music more accessible. I closed with the following three statements (slightly adapted for concision):
Culture finds purpose when it is expressed
Culture gains meaning as it inhabits and shapes those who engage with it
Culture achieves fulfilment when it is shared and communicated to others
What do you think?
Do you agree?
Here is the previous post in this series, in case you missed it…
A very quick précis:
I want everyone to feel welcome at and part of musical performance(s), irrespective of their theoretical knowledge or musical literacy.
[sidenote: I hate the term “musical literacy]
Whilst the post linked to above focused on my ethos for making music accessible, in this post I hope to lay out a little more of the rationale behind my thinking, before a third post sharing some of the practical steps I am taking to create an actual framework, to ensure this actually happens.
The way we present and perform music shapes not only how audiences access, interpret and enjoy it, but whether they feel welcome, safe and invited in at all.
[sidenote: I know there will be specific instances where the artistic intent may be such that these feelings, emotions and desires are challenged through the work]
When music is presented in a way that suggests hierarchical or “ideal” forms shaped by an elitist lens, it can - albeit perhaps (or perhaps not!) unintentionally - reduce the space for dialogue, conversation, and gentle transformation.
This is unfortunate, and perhaps unwise, because openness tends to grow through exchange and shared exploration. Without that sense of dialogue, it becomes much harder for audiences to feel truly welcomed and invited in.
To support this position, I draw on Roland Barthes, particularly his distinction between a “writerly” (active) and “readerly” (passive) engagement with The Text, a perspective I find broadly useful.
However, Barthes should be approached with care. His analyses can at times rely on a rather reductive binarism, which may inadvertently weaken some of his arguments. I also remain unconvinced by aspects of his anti-authorial stance, particularly his emphasis on anti-intentionalism.
I am not willing to accept that the complexity and co-authorial nature of a writerly engagement with a text depends upon the complete setting aside of authorial intention, as though meaning must be severed from its source in order to come alive between reader and work.
This reflects a concern I have increasingly developed regarding how live music is created, programmed, marketed, experienced, and reviewed.
There can be a tendency to underestimate audiences, particularly in an environment shaped by algorithmic mediation and fragmented attention. In doing so, audiences may not be sufficiently credited with the capacity to navigate - and even dwell within - positions that resist simple binaries.
At one end lies a directive model that risks over-determining meaning and constraining interpretation. At the other lies a strongly anti-intentionalist position, in which authorial context is largely set aside, leaving meaning to be constructed without interpretive orientation, and thereby reconfiguring the role of the author within the work.
Such an approach requires us to recognise interpretive agency in the audience without dissolving the role of the author or the contextual conditions of the work.
What if there were a “Third Way” (how very New Labour…forgive me) that moves between the binary positions often taken in relation to textual interpretation?
An approach that recognises the audience’s capacity to dwell in ambiguity, to sit between meanings, and to engage critically without erasing the author’s presence. In this liminal space, meaning is neither imposed nor entirely free-floating, but actively negotiated between reader, work, and context.
Context, then, is not optional. It is essential. This is especially evident in relation to subjects such as colonialism and the experiences of minorities and under-represented groups, where an author’s situated life and experience are often integral to interpretation.
If this position can be reduced to a single word, it is this: reciprocity.
When we reject the temptation to treat audiences simply as people to impart something to, and instead become aware of the potential for transformation via the two-way interaction between performer and audience, I feel it is here where we begin to gain an understanding of the potential this offers.
A future post will delve into the practical steps I have been exploring to achieve these aims.
I’d love to hear what you think…