Ultimately, music cannot stop war. Neither can it cure disease. And it cannot fill the stomach or guard against the cold. Can music do anything besides heal us and make us forget the reality we don’t want to see?
I know. I was thrilled when I played symphonies by Beethoven and Shostakovich. The blood rushed to my head. The better it is, the more intense music exposes the aggression and exclusivity within me, the one playing it. I learned through performing that I myself had the potential to be violent and discriminate against other people.
I know. When I performed Bach’s “Passion,” I was hurt. Quiet, painful music makes me see me the unclean parts inside of me I don’t want to see. I learned through performing how stupid and wretched a person I am.
I saw the news. People discriminated against each other. They may or may not have been affected by disease and war. They were injured, had been hurt, or had died. Why oh why do these sad things have to happen?
Even if music cannot stop war or cure disease, at least it prevents you and me from hurting anybody. We can all easily become aggressors. Music can teach us that. I want to believe in the puny possibilities inherent in music.