The Collapse CXCIV: Music

25 November 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

One of the things I miss most is music.

Music is a thing that was ubiquitous in our culture and society of up to two years ago. It followed us almost everywhere: in every retail and commercial location, in the car, in our worship services. Many had listening devices (headphones and so on) that allowed one to listen to music wherever they were; in some cases, one saw people who almost never seemed to disassociate from them.

Now, there is virtually no music to be heard at all. I suspect it stems from two sources.

The first is simply that so much of our music was borrowed in the sense that it was “piped in” to us. We listened to it, the aural history of 2,000 years or more, performed by others. In more modern instances, the very instruments themselves were powered by electricity. If we sang out loud, it was only in particular settings: at church, in a concert, in the car at the top of our lungs. Only rarely did one hear anyone singing alone by themselves.

The second is that so many seem to have lost the interest or ability to play music.

At one time, learning of an instrument was de rigeur a right of passage growing up. Many – myself included – went through the inevitable piano lessons. For others it was recorders in class. Some “advanced” to some form of band or string instruments through middle school and high school, perhaps even into college.

And then for many, it simply stopped.

The reasons are as varied as people. For many, I suspect it was simply the fact that they got busy with the art and practice of living and thirty minutes to an hour a day of practice no longer fit into their schedules. For others, the camaraderie of the band or orchestra was what they enjoyed as much or more than making music remove that as an adult, and the interest quickly waned.

A few persevered of course, making music as a hobby or as a semi-profession. But these were inevitably those that did it out of love of the medium – in the world of the last 30 years, there was little enough money in music for the bulk of those that made it.

Now – I would say “suddenly” but we seem to be a little beyond that now – there is no music at all.

In my visits to others locally, I have seen a few instruments: more than a few guitars, mentions of a trumpet or saxophone which are brought out for inspection when I show any interest, even the odd piano or two. Occasionally there are music books around to go with them, but just as often there are none, just a set of notes or chords that seem to have embedded themselves in the brain.

This loss should not surprise me, of course. Literature contains multiple references to music of Ancient peoples for whom we have nothing but at best scanty notes or descriptions. What did the Romans bawl out in their tavernae? What was the sound of the Greek Paean before the hoplites started marching forward? What songs did the Vikings sing across the seas, or the courtiers of Heian Japan play to each other under the Autumn Moon?

I can hum the songs of my youth, Lucilius, and the soaring ballad chords and guitar riffs of the Power Rock of high school roar loudly - but only in my mind can I now here the actual music as it was played. It is secreted away now, in disks and on drives and other media that are locked down although nothing but dust lies on them.

In any crisis of civilization, the arts often seem the first to go.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca