Just Listen

To read this in its true home, go to the Finders Records blog.

Is musicality more important than all other artistic concerns?

Can you, the listener, understand and take pleasure in an artist even if you question their abilities?

Long has the debate raged over whether Bob Dylan can sing—in fact, of all places to once again take up this debate, I, the Dylan devotee, argued this point in my very own apartment this morning. To name just a few, artists like Dylan (band or sans band), Neil Young (with or without Crazy Horse), Tom Yorke (of Radiohead), and Trent Reznor (of Nine Inch Nails) all have instantly recognizable quirks to their voices. Dylan’s one-of-a-kind pipes are generally indescribable; Young sings through his nose in a sometimes unbelievably high register; Yorke’s voice could be interpreted as whiney; and Reznor screams quite a bit. Yet, in combination with the sound of their bands and the content of their lyrics, each of these artists has managed to create, in my eyes, some of the most striking and meaningful music of the century.

The truth of Dylan’s words, the twang of his guitar, and his raspy harmonica are so beautiful, it physically hurts me. Young’s yin and yang of sorrow, pain, and anger versus joy, happiness, and enlightenment makes me have to constantly choose between jumping in front of a bus or walking around humming with a dopey grin on my face. Yorke’s Radiohead makes my heart pound, my eyes tear, and my skin prick at the very sound of it—a truly innovative and progressive marriage of unique sound and incredible lyrics that provokes a physiological response in me. Reznor, well, NIN really, whether wailing or whispering, strikes such a raw, guttural chord that I challenge even the most new age of listeners to not feel something.

Now, Frank Sinatra can sing.

Norah Jones is musical.

(By the way, forgive me for being so choosey in providing specific examples of artists to prove my point, but there is simply no way to sculpt this narrative around a more exhaustive list.)

Musical tastes are acquired, personal, nostalgic, and sometimes entirely illogical or impossible to explain; therefore, debating the musicality of artists is equally exclusive and doubly troublesome. I’m not saying that Joe Public should never have a rousing debate with his dear friends—I’m only saying BEWARE!, there will be no end in sight. Fighting about how “good” an artist is with someone who has already acquired that taste is like fighting about abortion or gun control or the death penalty. It’s not like your partner in conversation is going to suddenly say: OH MY GOD, you’re right and I’m wrong. I’ll change my opinion immediately. Try convincing my mother that Bjork doesn’t sound like a whale in a cat fight. Good luck.

So, as I was saying, I attempted this debate. It went something like: You know, Bob Dylan can’t sing. And I, the wicked devoted Dylan buff, took the bait and went into a mini-rage. I even sunk so low as to try reverse the argument by insinuating that one of his favorite artists (Chino Moreno of the Deftones) can’t sing. Later today, that same friend redeemed himself by saying: Bob Dylan is only good when I’m with you. That’s actually a great way to finish making my point. In this case, my friend has a mind open enough to let himself accept and enjoy Dylan, even when it’s only with me.

When it comes to the caviar of 21st century music:

Keep your ears open, turn your internal equalizer off, and just listen.