OCTOBER 3, 2024 – I’m unequivocally in the camp that puzzles over how and why the upcoming election is likely to be so close between Dems and Reps—for House and Senate, as well as the White House, but especially the White House. How is it that The Worst Rock Band Ever could be in a dead heat with [pick a piece, any piece, of classical music composed before say, 1950]? Except . . .
The music analogy helps me reconcile the growing political chasm that splits America. How does this work? Permit me to explain . . .
Whenever I encounter political sentiments that oppose, offend and threaten my own, I immediately think of The Worst Rock Band Ever vs. Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, Bartok or Barber. I have an aversion for what strikes me as loud banging screeching screaming electronically distorted and amplified noise masquerading somehow as “music.” On the other hand, I have a lifelong affinity for the masterworks of a bunch of very dead, very white guys in the pantheon of the Western Classical Music Canon. I invariably embrace the latter and eschew the former. I don’t have to think about it. I don’t have to hesitate and flip a coin or murmur, “Eeny meeny miny moe . . .”
Irrespective of my personal tastes, however, I acknowledge that much of the rest of the world—including a good many friends, acquaintances and family members have musical tastes opposite mine. They would never favor the (wholly unfamiliar) works of a long-dead white guy over the “wake-‘em, shake-‘em” sound blasts of The Worst Rock Band Ever. In fact, as hard as it is for me to grasp, their dislike of classical music is every bit as strong as my intolerance for “their kind of music.” How, I ask, could they favor something so painful to objective aesthetic sensibilities over music that in my humble opinion edifies heart, mind and soul?
Yet, this irreconcilable difference in musical tastes doesn’t interfere with my wholly rewarding social interactions with these same people across an otherwise broad realm of common interests and preferences. We simply don’t attend the same concerts/“concerts” or listen to selections from the same musical library. With these people I can and do enjoy laughing at the same jokes; reading and enjoying the same books; walking down the same nature path; roasting marshmallows around the same campfire; breaking bread together at the same table; watching the sun do its thing as our part of the earth rotates toward dusk; rooting for the same team in the playoffs . . . and so on and so forth ad infinitum.
With the musical contrast well in mind and reconciling the differences between my affinity for one kind of music and aversion to another, I’m well-disposed psychologically to switch out The Worst Rock Band Ever for The Worst Candidate Ever and replace “my candidate for president” with anything from Bach cliché to “Ta-ta-ta TAHHH; ta-ta-ta BAHHH.”
I then pose to myself the simple question: Am I going to condemn, disinvite, disengage with [name the person who embraces The Worst Candidate Ever (i.e. The Worst Rock Band Ever)] over vehemently held opposing political views (musical tastes)? Of course not.
An important exception, of course, is character. If a person who happens to embrace The Worst Candidate Ever is himself as bereft of character as The Worst Candidate Ever, well, then having a beer together would be a great deal more difficult if not impossible, but that would pertain as well to a person who is a supporter of “my candidate” and champion of “my music,” yet otherwise an inveterate scoundrel.
Another instance where the analogy—political views as musical tastes—breaks down is where support of The Worst Rock Band/Candidate Ever is likely to lead to irreparable damage to my hearing even in remove from the injurious soundwaves. The sharpest illustration of this would be any number of repressive regimes throughout history. How would I feel about a friend or relative who joined . . . Robespierre during the French Revolution; the Confederacy during the Civil War; Lenin after the October Revolution; Stalin during the Holodomor in Ukraine; the Nazi regime in its persecution of Jews; et alia et cetera ad infinitum? In any of these contexts would or could I have rationalized my way to reconciliation and still break bread together, imbibe from the same pitcher of beer, laugh at the same jokes with people who directly aided and abetted purveyors of large-scale madness and evil?
At a certain decibel or temperature level, at a certain tipping point, wouldn’t moral and ethical imperatives and exigencies preclude reconciliation? Maybe not in Germany in January 1933 (the month Hitler maneuvered his way into the Chancellorship) but by March (when the first political prisoners were sent to Dachau)? Or upon passage of the Nuremberg Laws stripping Jews of German citizenship (September 1935)? Or Kristallnacht and the broad attack on Jewish shops and synagogues (November 1938)? Ah, yes, but though historical examples might serve as reference points, they mark the road travelled, not the pathway forward. Only time and unfolding events beyond our current view and control will determine—in hindsight—when or if the embrace of The Worst Rock Band Ever tilted us all into history’s snake pit. Was it January 6, 2021? Will it be November 5, 2024? In either case, we won’t know until it’s too late, which historically is nearly always the case.
Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy anything composed by a dead white guy whose last name started with a ‘B.’ You could call it my “Plan B.” Their music survived all of the aforementioned horrors, a reminder of human resilience and the staying power of our finer attributes, which manage to transcend our darkest political periods.
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
