Sound itself
For music, sound itself is the thing. Obvious, yes? But obvious things often carry deep meaning if we explore them, and that’s what is underway in the world of music, broadly speaking.
Ever since I was introduced to modern music as a 17-year-old trumpet player, in an orchestra for the first time in my life, performing pieces like Atmosphères by György Ligeti, I have had the awareness that sound itself — sound as such — is the most important aspect of music.
Sounds make us happy. Sounds make us sad. Sounds make us nervous. Quality of sound is the most rapid purveyor of emotional stimulation in music, much quicker than harmonic progression or melody. Harmonic progression takes at least two chords to have its effect, melody at least two notes, while we almost instantaneously process sound quality, an instinctual ability allowing us to quickly detect potential danger. A single chord is essentially just a specific kind of sound, so if one gets a hint of sadness from a minor chord, it’s because the sound triggers memories of music heard in the past. Or stated differently, timbral energy sparks mental energy.
How many times have you heard someone say something along the lines of “I just love the sound of the saxophone”? For how many of us is there an instrument whose sound makes us feel better (or worse, for that matter)? How many of our favorite moments in all kinds of music are produced when the sound of a particular instrument, or just a particular sound, enters?
Music creators — composers, producers, performers, conductors — think carefully about when to introduce a sound or instrument. One of my favorite songs of all time, one that includes a moment that always makes me smile, has a meaningful story connected to it regarding this very sort of choice. The story, told by David Grisman, is of the recording and producing of Ripple by the Grateful Dead. The moment I love so turns out to have been the choice of a producer. Rather than include the mandolin part throughout, as Grisman says he recorded, the producer decided to cut his volume until just before the chorus, which allows the rapidly repeated strumming of the mandolin to enter as a fresh sound just ahead of the chorus, therefore announcing its arrival. One of the great moments of musical form delivered by the sound of the mandolin!
This story brings forward another important aspect regarding the importance of sound itself in the music of our time: record producers are now part of an expanded concept of composer. In addition to duties like those of a conductor — balance of parts especially — they oversee the entire recording process, often including what instruments or extra-musical sounds are added. People like George Martin, Phil Spector, and Rick Rubin are deservedly famous for their imprint on the sound we hear from many rock bands. The Beatles’ A Day In the Life wouldn’t be anything close to its almost electro-acoustic reality without the influence of Martin.
Composers of classical music continue to create music that depends on sound itself: Helmut Lachenmann, Kaija Saariaho, and Giacinto Scelsi are good representatives (the links provided are to musical samples). Electro-acoustic and computer music is certainly focused on sound itself, and the modern, ubiquitous Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) puts the tools that once existed only in recording studios into the hands of anyone with a computer.
One hardly has to mention popular music: the continued growth of sound manipulation, including the use of pitch correction for its timbral effect, infuses virtually every style of music recorded these days. Even folk music will offer up a synth pad in its midst from time to time.
And while music develops more and more emphasis on sound and sound quality, a new phenomenon has grown, known as sound art. Some call it music, some do not.
The contemporary understanding of sound, of acoustics, combined with increased knowledge of how our brains process sound, develops new means of musical expression even as we speak. It is obvious to me that we are entering a new age of music in which sound itself is the primary focus.

The bit about Ripple by The Grateful Dead reminds me of one of my own favorite musical moments featuring a similar arrangement decision. The song “Glenn Tipton” by Sun Kil Moon spends the first two thirds of the track as just guitar and voice. At the last verse, some more strings gradually enter, guitar, mandolin, bass. And then finally for the last thirty seconds the drums enter, brief and glorious! Beautiful insights, thanks for sharing. Sound is indeed direct and instantaneous. I think about this a lot.