Musical Philosophy: Music Criticism
I was reading an interesting interview piece on Slateâs The Wrong Stuff blog yesterday about how couplesâ philosophical perspectives on truth constantly get them into relationship trouble and something struck me: much of the articleâs discussion of the âtruthâ and how we view it is also directly applicable to music criticism and they way we perceive it. In the interview Dr. Harville Hendrix (ok, yes, he is Oprahâs ârelationship whispererâ but please donât judge) speaks a great deal about our general inability to view issues completely objectively:
For all of us, we are at the center of our own universe, and everything else is the periphery. So it makes sense that we think that the way we see things is the way they really are. That’s natural.
While no one could rightly claim that music criticism is supposed to be objective, this does say a lot about how radically two or more different people can perceive the same music. For instance I think the new National album is kind of boring. You, on the other hand, may have had a completely different experience with the new National album â and might proceed to call me out with a nasty blog comment, something along the lines of: âyouâre stupid, you donât know anything about music, shut up and die.â Hereâs an example of my perceptions of a certain musical piece are radically different from yours, and since we are both the centers of our own sense of truthfulness and righteousness, we cannot see each otherâs viewpoint.
Harville goes on to discuss the Correspondence Theory of Truth and how the idea that how we perceive things directly relates to how those things actually are, intrinsically:
There’s a philosophical theory called the correspondence theory of truth, which pretty much describes most people’s ordinary, everyday, nonreflective way of thinking about themselves and the world. Simply put, it means the belief that there is an exact correspondence between what I see and what’s really out there: “My perspective is universal and what I see is what is real.” That’s a very real part of the human experience.
And lest we ignore the general nasty nature of (it seems) the majority of music criticism feedback, Harville addresses the hostility in which some of us react to different opinions as well as how this can be exacerbated by a problematic early childhood development:
Some people are wounded in childhood by an intrusive or neglectful parent, and that produces emotional pain, and emotional pain produces self-absorption. And when you are wounded and become self-absorbed, your natural inclination to see yourself as the center of the world and everything else as on the periphery is amplified to the point where you cannot be flexible with data. You can’t actually take in new information very well. When you’re wounded early, you organize the world in a certain way, in order to give yourself some sense of inner cohesion. You make up your mind about the way things are, who you are, who your parents are, and although that helps you survive, it also means you have all these very rigid ideas surrounding what is fundamentally a fragile inner core.
And:
To entertain the possibility that you’re wrong is to feel anxiety about your inner organization, as well as shame, embarrassment, and even guilt about the erroneous perspective. And shame and guilt are almost intolerable emotions. So in order not to experience that anxiety and shame and guilt, you become rigid in your perceptions.
Harville is, of course, talking about human relationships here, but I think that the deeper meaning can be applicable across any sort of human interaction, including music discussion. This would lend a lot of weight towards the surplus of âfuck youâ reactions music criticism receives in the world (so nasty blog commenters, I guess we can blame your âfragile inner coreâ for your hostility).
I guess the real question is âIs there such thing as wrong and right in music criticism?â The easy answer in ânoâ and that everything is subjective, but there is another theory that seems to be the most generally prescribed for those who believe some music is better than others. It is called the Coherence Theory of Truth and is diametrically opposed to the aforementioned Correspondence Theory. In laymanâs terms (as it relates to music), Coherence Theory states that if there is coherence between a number of âmusic expertsâ on a certain piece of music than that opinion holds weight. So if Pitchfork, Spin, the AV Club, etc. like it then it must be in fact, good. This is slightly different than the Consensus Theory of Truth, which would hold that if an album is universally popular than it must mean that it is good (you could call it the Britney Spears Theory of Truth).
So which theory is right? Which is true? Doubtlessly we could all disagree to no end on the answer to that question, perhaps proving multiple theories in the process. My personal opinion, and the way I approach music criticism, really doesnât correspond to any one of these theories entirely. I donât believe that music that is universally popular is automatically âgoodâ (though letâs not drag ourselves down the rabbit hole of what âgoodâ means just yet) and I donât believe that general coherence amongst music critics also defines a musicâs quality (though I might be persuaded otherwise). When I write about music though I am presenting my own opinion, my single perception of what that music means to me. I am not trying to convince anyone that my opinion should be held universally (though I admit that that would be nice). I am basically saying here are my thoughts on this music â and you can agree or disagree but it doesnât necessarily make either one of us âright.â Perhaps this is the easy way out, the way to avoid the responsibility of actually owning and defending an opinion, but the more I think about it the more it seems that it canât possibly be any other way.
What are your thoughts? This screed is more of a stream of consciousness than a well-developed editorial, so if you have any thoughts of your own about music criticism I hope that you share them here.
— Jon Behm
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Co-founder, photographer, writer

âDe gustibus non est disputandum.â But we dispute anyway because itâs illuminating to hear opinions you donât agree with, and to put your own views at risk, opening them up to critique. Thatâs how your views get better and your horizons broader.
One of the central concerns of Kantâs aesthetic theory is to reconcile the subjective nature of taste with the desire to make objective claims. So, for example when I say that certain music is good, Iâm saying more than, âI happen to like it.â Iâm trying to make an objectively binding case that others should like it too because it is in and of itself good. Of course it doesnât always work out that way.
Whatâs most harmful to dialogue is a dismissive relativism that says, âThatâs just your opinion,â or worse that reverts to some kind of ad hominem on the speaker whoâs putting forth an honest take on things. If you disagree, thatâs great. Now articulate why you disagree. If your view is more adequate than mine, you should be able to make it apparent why it is more adequate. Taking your own views and those of others seriously requires a willingness to engage in good faith dialogue. Even if we never come to complete agreement or arrive at the shining presence of objective truth, proceeding in this way is inherently constructive.
Ah, I figured the philosophy professor might have some thoughts on the subject…;)
Regarding Kant though I think music might defy rational reasoning – how do you attempt to make an objectively binding case that certain music is good? I mean you can support your arguments with specific obervations, like “see here how the bassist plays extremely complex scales – that must mean the music is good” but how does that explain particularly why the music actually resonates with you? Complex music doesn’t necessarily equate good music. I feel like basically the whole argument boils down to “this music resonates with me for reasons I can’t explain.” You can attempt to explain in rational terms but art generally defies logic.
For instance I don’t know why I enjoy The Kinks more than I enjoy Steely Dan – The Dan undoubtedly play more complex, technically proficient music. The Kinks, however, I just generally enjoy more. But when someone asks me “why do you like the Dirty Projectors more than Matt & Kim?” I might fall back on “well, the DP play more coplex, technically proficient music.” But is that why I really like them? probably not.
So how do we know what makes us like certain music and not others?
Matt & Kim are a crappy example as they have 3 good songs total đ
A) Kant hated music, so maybe that answers the question right there. Two of his favorite things to whine about were 1) the âenthusiasmâ of the Pietist worship service, and 2) the prisoners who were forced to sing hymns in the evening while he was trying to digest his dinner (he lived across from the town jail).
B) No one really likes Steely Dan. They may say that they do, but theyâre mistaken.
C) I agree completely that what good music communicates or allows me to experience is ultimately ineffable. It canât be reduced to logic or theory.
D) While weâre talking about truth, itâs worth pointing out that the original meaning of the Greek word for truth â aletheia â is something like “uncovering,” âdisclosureâ or ârevelation.â In this understanding âtruthâ has to do with bringing something into the light of day â allowing something to be seen that was previously covered over and hidden. Good music can do that â as can good criticism â although in very different ways.
I like Steely Dan.
You are mistaken.