In Praise of Jubal (Music makes the world go round)

According to the Bible, Jubal was the inventor of musical instruments.

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” –Aldous Huxley

When I decided to write about music, I asked Aunt Faith what kind of music under what circumstances has had an impact on her life. “None,” she replied. “I don’t listen to music.” I was amazed. We moved a collection of around 80 CD’s from her house. But it’s true. She hasn’t listened to a single song in eight months, unless it was coming through the TV. I guess that’s not uncommon for many people—I just don’t think I could live without music.

The only musical skill I possess is listening. I can’t even sing. Long ago I was singing robustly in church. The woman next to me giggled. When I looked at her, she blushed and turned away. My vocals have become quite muted.

However, I’m an excellent listener. As I age, music is taking pre-eminence over television as a pastime. My $16.23/month to Spotify is a drop in the bucket, and well-spent too. I love to sit out on my back porch in the summer, when the sun is setting and the temp is cooling and the air is freshening and the breeze is caressing and the music is playing. I’ve always felt that when Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven is at hand,” he was implying that if we could just raise our awareness, we would recognize beauty and joy and glory right here, right now. Music draws us nearer to that recognition.

I suspect I am over-spiritualizing it. Music speaks to multitudinous individuals in infinite ways (thus all the ear pods). When I once asked a JV tennis player what he had done over the weekend, he told me he had lay on his bed and listened to “Glycerine” by Bush for 24 straight hours! He said it kind of rapturously. One of the stupidest things you can do is argue about music, like this artist is superior to that artist. It’s like Coke vs. Pepsi. I remember telling my friend Bill Wax that Bob Dylan was one of the greatest harmonica players of all-time. Bill rolled his eyes—he knew (and still does) a lot more about music than I ever will. Okay, I understand that when it comes to technical virtuosity and skill, he was right. But when it comes to Bob’s notes rolling through my soul in “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” I was right. Musical taste is utterly subjective—do you think your spouse is better than mine?

As regards subjectivity, I do believe music can serve as an oracle. There are numerous times God has spoken to me through music. I will go a step further and suspect that it is one of His favorite avenues. We are crazy to think God relies on words. Music goes way deeper than just saying something we agree with. However, a word of caution: when I worked in the mental hospital, there was a young man (diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic) who told me the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix, all of rockdom, had identified him as the avatar of the New Age—he was to rise up and lead the revolution (spiritual and otherwise). One Saturday—when not much happens—I came to work with an armload of rock records, and he and I went into the music room. After listening to certain songs and listening to him for about four hours (probably not part of his treatment plan), I was 49% convinced that he was, in fact, the leader of the next revolution. Take heed.

I feel bad for Faith and everyone else who doesn’t allow music to play a role in their daily lives. My son-in-law Dylan is a brilliant musician. One of the coolest things is watching him enchant my granddaughters by picking up a guitar or banjo and plucking something magical out. I am left with a semi-consoling remark from Kurt Vonnegut: “Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.”

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