‘Ugh! How can you listen to that music? It’s so depressing. Music should make you feel happy!’
I can’t tell you how many times I have been subjected to asinine comments similar to those in my life. And each and every time they piss me off without fail.
‘Why?’ That’s how I usually respond to such bone-headed babblings on those rare occasions when I fail to bite my tongue (sometimes you gotta defend Damien Rice yunno?). Other than a disproportionate amount of slack jawed gawking, the answer I normally get is akin to something like, ‘I dunno. It just should’. Thanks, good talk!
Besides this line of argument being an egregious example of someone putting forward their own opinion as an axiomatic fact, (the practice of which seems to have reached global pandemic proportions of late), I posit that it also succeeds in missing the point of art entirely.
That’s just my opinion, of course. I am not so lacking in self awareness that I missed that detail and the following is just me describing how I feel about the subject. It’s just an opinion piece. I am not positing that my opinions are fact, just in fact that they are my opinions. This is my personal SubStack after all, so let's get to it.
[Sidebar]
I admit that both my argument and the argument of my fictionalised version of an interlocutor both commit the philosophical sin of ‘getting an “ought” from an “is”. In truth there is no necessary reason why anything ‘should’ be the way either party says it should. I’m just answering one opinion [of which I disagree] with my own, with wanton disregard for the principles of epistemically sound philosophy.
[End Sidebar]
My main argument is that their core proposition, ‘Music should make you feel happy’, is exactly one word too long. I believe a more accurate sentence would read, ‘music should make you feel’.
This is something I feel at the broader level of art in general, of which music is obviously just one aspect of. I believe that invoking an emotional response in the viewer/listener is the sole purpose of art; making the observer feel something; anything, including sadness, anger or any emotion other than (and including) happiness.
I arrive at this admittedly sentimental conclusion for a few reasons that I will touch on in due course, but the main reason is my definition of what art is. It may sound like an abstract and complex question: ‘What is Art?’, but I believe the answer is quite simple. Art is the creative expression of emotion. I have recently been thinking about adding the word ‘human’ before ‘art’ in that definition in response to the emergence of AI art and may yet do so. If AI consciousness reaches a point where it can legitimately be said to be experiencing and expressing emotions, then its artistic work would meet the criteria of my definition. I’m still figuring out how I feel about that.
Many debates have taken place over the years as to what constitutes ‘real art’ with many questioning the artistic merits of all kinds of creative works.
Music has especially come under scrutiny from gatekeepers claiming what is ‘real music’ or not. Heavy metal, Electronica, mass-produced boy/girl group pop music, hip-hop and mumble rap music are some of the most obvious examples.
I posit that under my definition these could all be called legitimate ‘art’; even the conveyor belt pop songs churned out in the name of soulless corporate greed. Greed is an emotion, a desire to have more than you need. It may be almost universally perceived as a negative emotion, but that doesn't make it illegitimate as a source of motivation and (dare I say) inspiration. There is no rule that says artists have to be good or virtuous, or that art must be motivated by ‘good’ emotions. No one can deny that there has been some legitimate art motivated by anger over the centuries; i.e. Pablo Picasso's Guernica to name one; Rage Against The Machine’s, ‘Killing In The Name Of’ to name another. No one is claiming that anger isn’t a negative emotion either.
Therefore, any creative work that existed with greed as the emotional motivation is legitimately art by my definition, including those nauseatingly corny boy band songs that my mum always played while I was a lad (Yuck!). I hate those songs and I always will, but they are still art regardless. In my opinion, everyone has the right to say ‘I don’t like that art’, but no one has the right to say ‘That is NOT art’.
But it’s not just music. People derided Tracy Emin’s piece ‘My Bed’ as just a messy room when it was first released in 1998 and many still do to this day. In 2022, the comedian Adam Rowe went into a long comical rant about the pretentiousness of modern art and its validity on his podcast ‘Have A Word’.
It wasn’t long before Emin’s piece came up in that conversation and Adam reiterated his belief that it is ‘not art’. At that point, his co-host Dan Nightingale hits that nail on the head in my view. ‘25 years ago, Tracy Emin’s unmade bed, and we’re still fucking annoyed about it’. Exactly, Mr Nightingale.
For the record, I am mostly indifferent to ‘My Bed’ and I certainly lean more towards agreeing with Adam in saying that it’s a bit shit. But its impact and cultural relevance cannot be denied. It pissed people off then and still does twenty years later and is still discussed, debated and considered which, by any measure, is a legacy itself. It made people feel something which stuck with them for a quarter of a century. It made people feel ‘something’. Love it or hate it, It is definitely art.
Many genres of popular movies are often entirely dismissed by critics in favour of more dramatic offerings. These movies are equally overlooked at prestigious awards ceremonies in terms of nominations and honours too. In both cases this is often in spite of how much the films resonated with movie going audiences. The Oscars have been endlessly criticised for the lack of representation for comedic films in the Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor/Actress categories. This is egregious enough in itself as comedy is one of the oldest and most popular forms of artistic expression.
But for me the greater sin is the complete dismissal of Science Fiction and Horror movies. I love Science Fiction. I don’t know if any movie has been as culturally relevant to the 21st century as the dystopian classic ‘The Matrix’ (I’ve read three unrelated SubStacks about this movie THIS WEEK) but outside of technical awards it was overlooked at the 2000 Academy Awards.
The same can be said for the Terminator, Blade Runner, Aliens, Star Wars, etc. All beloved works. All instantly quotable movies. All still culturally relevant now as they touch on the themes of technologies like AI and space travel; what it means to be human, the role of ancient religious orders in society (Jedi); coming into opposition with dangerous enemies and ideologies. But they are recognised as entertainment by the bigwigs; and not, it seems, as legitimate art. I see creativity and expression of emotion in these films though. They are all real art in my opinion, and should be recognised as such.
Horror is probably my favourite movie genre. Train To Busan, The Shining, The Exorcist, The Omen, Halloween and Aliens are standouts for me but there are countless more I love. There are admittedly a lot of BAD horror movies though (I’m looking at you ‘Army Of The Dead’).
Horror movies are relatively cheap to make so there ends up being a lot of them being released in a calendar year of varying quality. I got so fed up with being disappointed by wasting my time on bad ones that I stopped watching new ones. Nowadays I wait around for word of mouth recommendations and movies that seem to hit the cultural zeitgeist hard like ‘A Quiet Place’ before I take the plunge. I did choose to watch ‘Immaculate’ recently apropos of nothing and enjoyed it well enough. It appeared to have all of the ingredients I look for in a horror movie to entice me; Catholic theology, a sinister mystery and Sydney Sweeney’s [ahem]… ‘personality’.
But why do I love these movies? Because they scare me, duh! And being scared (when in reality I know I’m safe) I find to be the most enthralling experience. My heart thumps, I sweat, I chew my nails to the point of drawing blood (I have to wear mitts). The tension, the fear, the anxiety. I hate it, but I can’t get enough.
Why? I don’t exactly know the answer, but I think it’s because there is no feeling quite as real, or primal, as fear. Even love (to me at least) doesn’t feel as immediate nor as fundamentally core to the human experience. I think fear is the oldest part of our emotional framework. Passed on to us from our billions of years of ancestry due to its utility, nay its necessity to animal survival. I enjoy this feeling for some reason.
I feel the same about other kinds of emotions that music stirs up in me. I enjoy listening to songs that make me feel sad or melancholy. I get a lot of pleasure out of listening to extremely aggressive and angry thrash metal with screamed vocals and double bass pedals going 160 bpm. This last one is a primal feeling too. I can best describe it as a similar feeling to watching one boxer knock his opponent out with a thunderous punch, I kind of bloodlust, like the Romans watching a gladiator deliver a killing blow.
My reaction to extremely aggressive metal music (and filthy dubstep drops) is best summed up in this famous facial expression by Christian Bale, playing Patrick Bateman in American Psycho.
I enjoy all these musical experiences and the involuntary emotional responses that they stir in me. But they don’t make me happy, per se. At least not in the way that listening to Prince’s Raspberry Beret, Eminem’s ‘Can-I-Bitch’ or pretty much anything by Bo Burnham does. These songs make me smile or laugh or dance like a grandad at a wedding. I’m quite obviously feeling a Dopamine rush in my brain when I listen to sad songs too. But I’m not happy.
My favourite kind of music is sad, true, but also sort of hopeful due to its beauty. This is what I get out of sad songs. They feel like they are meeting the real world on its own terms and are bravely defiant, refusing to allow sadness to destroy beauty.
I like songs that reveal personal defeat but also an admittance to the reality of it. There’s a sort of acceptance of the sad things without wallowing in them that signals that we can move on, grow and become more. Bad things happen, but there is still beauty, so it’s okay. That resonates with me.
I don’t know if any of that made sense. I’m just trying to articulate why sad songs make me feel the way they do. They don’t make me feel happy or good, just more. They make me feel whatever I am feeling, deeper. It’s more intense, like the fear I get from horror movies. I feel sad, yet hopeful. Like I’m going to cry but I am overjoyed by how important or meaningful it feels.
It’s like the ending of Schindler’s List. Nothing could have made that movie anything but sad, but the anguish that Oscar Schindler feels when he realises he could have traded his watch in and bought safe passage for few more jews to escape the Nazis is overwhelming. Faced by all the lives he had saved, all the undeniable good he had done and at great personal sacrifice to himself; he still felt he hadn’t done enough. It was the perfect completion of his character arc. He was, irrefutable, a good man. The hope, in the sadness.
So I don’t believe that music, nor art at large, should make us feel only happiness. Rather, as I said at the top, it should make us feel. Something, anything.
If I haven’t well enough described the feeling I am searching for when I listen to sad songs and watch sad movies, then hopefully the song below will act as a fitting example. Maybe not though as it hits me on a very personal level that might not translate to those with different experiences.
The lyrics resonate with me on a deep level as they closely describe some aspects of my family life that are a source of emotional baggage. Religious fundamentalism and Atheism are obvious examples, but Christmas and family gatherings are the main ones. Because of my mother’s religion I never experienced either growing up, and the Christmas scenario that Tim is describing is something I never had and never will. The closeness of his family unit is a source of deep jealousy and envy on my part.
But listen as far as the chorus; when he sings ‘My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum’. That’s it. That’s the thing I’ve been waffling on about. It’s so sad, but so endearing, so cathartic, so hopeful. I can’t describe it, but hopefully you get what I mean.
Thanks for reading…
Pete Brennan - The Common Centrist
Good post. You're coming at it from the consumer side where my recent post came at it from the creator side. One coin, and we agree completely about "makes you happy".
I think I might differentiate between greed as a reason to create low-effort art ("schlock") versus well done art that is about greed (or that instills it in the consumer). But my definition leans heavily on artistic intent.
I think this article was inspired by the other anti-"sad music" discussion from a few days ago, so I can resonate with it ;)
The best argument I can think of for why "music should make you feel happy!" is that being happy is good for your mental health. However, this is the equivalent of reading a couple of "choose to smile today" affirmations to someone who is genuinely distressed. That's not how cognitive therapy was pioneered, and even Jungian individuation requires integrating one's shadow--arguably not a happy journey.
Personally, that's what adds some authenticity towards 'sad' music--the depth of emotion makes it more instrumental to the process of self-actualisation. Nutshell is one of the saddest Alice in Chains songs. At one point, it never failed to reduce me to tears. It's an unabashed reflection of oneself, including one's failures. It pierces to the soul, but consoles with its beauty--that no matter how dire things get, something good can arise out of all of it.
I greatly enjoyed reading this article, thank you for writing it.