BY HASAN MURAT SÜMER (EE/IV)
hasan.sumer@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
Improvised Column
The writer’s biggest mistake is making a deal with the publisher. Some time after the deal, the writer notices that he has become less and less enthusiastic about his writing material because of having to produce a column biweekly. Boundaries kill the artist. The processes of discovering and thinking, which were once fun, turn into a job, and hence a burden. As a result, writing with enthusiasm becomes more and more difficult and, eventually, impossible. So the writer either aims for the impossible and settles for its best approximation, or writes frequently and quickly enough to see himself become a sell-out. Or, he just writes his memories and stuff….
I’ve been obsessed with the song “Frozen” by Madonna, and the music video of it, for years now. I remember enjoying the song as a child, but then for more than ten years I forgot it even existed. Some time ago, I listened to it again at my friend’s flat on the 420th floor, and my brain melted. All I could think was that there has to be some sort of important message behind the song; a big one, like the meaning of life or a pattern for prime number distribution. The famous humming section sounded so perfect, I felt like I had to do something with it, but didn’t know what, and this created frustration. After listening hundreds of times, the effect pretty much wore off and I settled for deciding that it’s the best possible sound a woman can hum. However, the memory of that night still makes me worship Madonna as a goddess.
The writer maintains and improves his skills by writing, but reading others’ writings is what matures him. The good artists of the past never die, and only those who keep them alive have the chance of achieving immortality too. By reading the works of others, the self-confident, beginning writer realizes how ignorant he is, and slowly understands that ignorance is unavoidable due to the vastness of art. But also he knows that it’s okay as long as he’s aware of it, because there’s no limit to learning, either. So he learns that a poem doesn’t have to be about love, and music doesn’t have to be about emotions.
My taste in music originates from my father. He’s been a hardcore Pink Floyd fan for decades. As I evolved from a mindless teenager to something more sensible during high school, I also took a liking to the band and became a hardcore fan. Their music rose above anything else I had ever listened to (ignore classical music, it’s overpowering, and the difference between them and the next best thing was too great. Well-arranged songs exceeding 20 minutes, clever and beautiful lyrics, so many guitar solos that sent shivers down my spine and, most importantly, the constant emotional load in the music (I still think that PF is the true master in this respect)—these guys offered the best sound ever. I once actually paused an “erotic” film to listen to these dudes. There could be no band better than PF; it wasn’t even worth discussing.
Right after I finished high school, I randomly discovered the bands Camel and Van Der Graaf Generator. Camel was also very emotional, but it wasn’t the emotion that made them attractive. Their music was simply more aesthetic, and they used the flute in rock songs, often. I was so amazed, I picked up the flute, learned how to blow on it, and practiced some of their flute segments. I believe that inspiring a listener to pick up an instrument is a substantial achievement for a musician. Then, revisiting Pink Floyd, I realized that Roger Waters was an average bass guitarist and a terrible singer (although a great songwriter), and the keyboards in their productions were practically meaningless after ’73. They were, in short, imperfect and not the best at all. However, it was Van Der Graaf Generator that introduced me to the concept of “experienced listener.” The consumer of art needs to improve himself in order to appreciate complex products. If you try to read Proust as an inexperienced reader, you’ll fail, and if you try to listen to VDGG as an inexperienced listener, you won’t understand a single thing. But that doesn’t mean that complex music is necessarily better than simpler music; it just means that even the appreciation of art requires hard work, much like everything valuable in life.
Why does a music reviewer write in the first place, if not for the money? He’s not composing or playing any music, and he doesn’t write about his own creations. Nonetheless, his purpose is the same as that of an artist: he tries to express himself aesthetically in a manner unique to him. Art is for its artist; if he is satisfied with what he produces, any other opinion is just people’s chit-chat. On the other hand, I have no idea what I just wrote. Much love to Hüsnü.