Poetry’s Desire to Attain the Validity of Music
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It is frustrating indeed that many will regard a written or recited poem as a disembodied piece of spirit—almost as a spirit without a body, and that one can succeed by the highest standard in fashioning a poem, only to find non-poetry lovers incapable of considering it a materially real object. In some cases, one might even feel that a poem has little reality at all, that it does not matter in the way a painting matters, or that a piece of music does. Yet a poem embodied in song would be something different. As poetry necessarily has one foot in myth and one in language (which is essentially abstract), its abstract side prevents it from having the sensuous immediacy of the other arts.
It has been felt that music could grant poetry the material body it lacks. But we wonder why is it so rare for lyrics to stand on their own, when dissociated from the music they put on like so much makeup and sequins. We wonder why when the makeup comes off, the face is unrecognizable. And for that matter, why does a poem which stands on its own often fail to fit into a musical scheme, should one try to adapt it? In a better world, a poem would be able to stand on its two feet, on the page, while readily lending itself to music, if summoned. That achieving both is rare and difficult, and owing to the close association of poetry and music, their irreconcilability in this regard is a frustrating paradox.
A dream of some poets has been for their verse to find a way of attaining the concrete reality and materiality of song, while retaining the deep spiritual authenticity, the complexity, and eloquence exclusive to poetry. Some have also longed for a means of objectively determining poetic value, at least one more objective than circumstances have allowed. It has been vexatious that on the one hand a work’s recognition depends on the approval of biased, self-interested gatekeepers and, on the other, on the imperfect judgement of critics and institutions, whose valuations so often conflict. And so a great poem which doubled as a great song, one realizes, could bypass both hurdles.
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It is frustrating indeed that many will regard a written or recited poem as a disembodied piece of spirit—almost as a spirit without a body, and that one can succeed by the highest standard in fashioning a poem, only to find non-poetry lovers incapable of considering it a materially real object. In some cases, one might even feel that a poem has little reality at all, that it does not matter in the way a painting matters, or that a piece of music does. Yet a poem embodied in song would be something different. As poetry necessarily has one foot in myth and one in language (which is essentially abstract), its abstract side prevents it from having the sensuous immediacy of the other arts.
It has been felt that music could grant poetry the material body it lacks. But we wonder why is it so rare for lyrics to stand on their own, when dissociated from the music they put on like so much makeup and sequins. We wonder why when the makeup comes off, the face is unrecognizable. And for that matter, why does a poem which stands on its own often fail to fit into a musical scheme, should one try to adapt it? In a better world, a poem would be able to stand on its two feet, on the page, while readily lending itself to music, if summoned. That achieving both is rare and difficult, and owing to the close association of poetry and music, their irreconcilability in this regard is a frustrating paradox.
A dream of some poets has been for their verse to find a way of attaining the concrete reality and materiality of song, while retaining the deep spiritual authenticity, the complexity, and eloquence exclusive to poetry. Some have also longed for a means of objectively determining poetic value, at least one more objective than circumstances have allowed. It has been vexatious that on the one hand a work’s recognition depends on the approval of biased, self-interested gatekeepers and, on the other, on the imperfect judgement of critics and institutions, whose valuations so often conflict. And so a great poem which doubled as a great song, one realizes, could bypass both hurdles.
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