One of the best ways to become better at making something is to study good examples of the thing(s) you admire in order to learn what makes them work. If your goal is to build a better car, you could look at (by which I mean take apart!) good cars, and try to understand the function of each part as a way of learning how cars work. If your goal is to become a better composer, you could study good compositions (by which I mean take apart!) in order to understand how they work.
In both cases, the objective of learning how things work is partly general interest (if you love something, learning more about it is its own reward), and partly self-interest (you are hoping to discover and understand aspects that you can borrow, improve, or otherwise modify in your creations).
An aspect I enjoy most about my job is that I get to analyze music on a regular basis for various courses that I teach. There are different types of musical analysis, but I think they all revolve around the fundamental question of how a composition works. Or, more generally, how does music work?
There is no single answer to this question — the reasons that any composition works are many, and different compositions work in different ways — but it seems to me that there is at least one thing common to all good music, and it is this (drum roll, please):
In both cases, the objective of learning how things work is partly general interest (if you love something, learning more about it is its own reward), and partly self-interest (you are hoping to discover and understand aspects that you can borrow, improve, or otherwise modify in your creations).
An aspect I enjoy most about my job is that I get to analyze music on a regular basis for various courses that I teach. There are different types of musical analysis, but I think they all revolve around the fundamental question of how a composition works. Or, more generally, how does music work?
There is no single answer to this question — the reasons that any composition works are many, and different compositions work in different ways — but it seems to me that there is at least one thing common to all good music, and it is this (drum roll, please):
Good music plays with our expectations.
(To enhance the dramatic effect of the above, play this short clip immediately!)
By "playing" with our expectations, I mean that the music sometimes does what we expect (and how does it do that?), and sometimes doesn't, and the ways in which expectations are created, fulfilled, and thwarted, constitute an essential part of the reason we are drawn to the music. Understanding how this works can be an extremely valuable skill for a composer.
It is easy to introduce unexpected elements to a composition, but this, by itself, does not produce compelling art. Really good compositions somehow set-up expectations and leave us guessing as to which will be fulfilled and which won't be, as we go along for the ride. How do they do this?
More to follow in parts two and three.
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