Ethics
It was in great agony and loud lamentation that music was born. It was when music ended, when all the phases of performing it were exhausted — not only on stage, though that too, but performing music as an audible miracle — it was then that music turned to sound itself: to noise and acoustic fluctuation, to silence and quiet. That is, to all that constitutes the acoustic cosmos and serves as a medium of expression for our innermost feelings. With music gone, the musicians remain, and if anyone knows, it is they, who deal with the most elusive substance of our surroundings — or rather of our very existence — who were left alone in face of all that used to drift by, be overcome in other ways, and occur without their participation. Music demands focus and discipline, so no humble musician can keep track of all the vicissitudes that sweep past them and are to be recalled only in moments of social despair, when organizing concerts and arranging instruments on stage.
The same goes for all other artists and creators of any kind. Meanwhile, the fabric of this very life is so intricate, so strange that it would be wise to draw up a practical guide, or better to write a booklet, that every artist could carry with them and turn to in moments of uncertainty before those of neither talents nor virtues who turn against the artist, seek to belittle their intellectual abilities and question them on things they cannot possibly know. Though we cannot ignore that there are bastards among these artists themselves — but what of it? There has never been a time or a place without some bastards. Does their presence in our surroundings imply something extraordinary, something beyond the artistry and the finely attuned ear and eye? Indeed it doesn't. Therefore it is time to move to the part of this composition where we will lay out the principles and invisible codes of the artistic and the musical. Let us perform an act of indulgence and set in principles a space of proper conduct and virtuous intentions for their daily affairs.
On the Pain and Pleasure of the Musician
The modern musician, despite what we might wish, experiences neither pain nor pleasure while composing or performing music. Is there such a power that, after millennia, could still truly compel us to feel what has already been felt many times, in every possible way? Yet all of us are living beings, and therefore, whether or not we are sound-bound, part of our experiences is by logical necessity also an experience of sound. It is commonly thought that a musician, when faced with a moral dilemma or in moral defeat, should not betray their talent and bury it. Though we think that they may or rather must do so unless weakness of their mind or other extenuating circumstances turn them into a bird-like creature, chirping its songs and adorning the world with its carefree singing. We are speaking, of course, only of experimental musicians and not of the pop-music industry, for the latter, though equipped with every possible means of stirring our affects, are composed of nothing but gestures that force us into pleasure and deprive us of it simultaneously. Thus, whether we speak of pain or of pleasure, it matters most that pleasure is rooted in pain, while pain itself does not arise from pleasure. Truly listening to contemporary sound and contemporary silence demands the work of the mind, not of the heart. Therefore, the musician shall channel their pain toward processing the social — that is their own and others' vices and moral failings — deeply enough for it to imprint in sound itself. In this, the musician will reach the heights of pleasure from their own acoustic reflections and will share this kind of philosophical pleasure with the rest.
On Freedom and Responsibility
Freedom and responsibility have been discussed extensively and thoroughly by the finest of human minds. There are opinions of olden days along with the fresh ones, no worse than the former. But how could one, with the trembling heart of an artist permeated by the softest currents and energies, find their way through that? Therefore, we have need of certain axioms and guidelines, from which we may derive everything else. The dialectic of freedom and responsibility does not apply to the acoustic, for sound demonstrates its dialectic in a most obvious way. When we encounter the audible, we seek sound in the inaudible, while the inaudible manifests in the very act of truly listening to what already sounds. Only one principle here could be taken as an axiom: that responsibility for a freely performed act lies only with the musician committing the deed—but what, then, is their deed? When a musician performs or participates in something, it would be premature and careless to call this act a deed. It is only when the musician is left one on one with their sound, whatever the setting or circumstances, that this act becomes a deed. But how often do musicians find themselves alone with their sound, just as a repentant sinner might find themself alone with the voice of their conscience? Any artist could measure the extent of their responsibility by asking this question. Those who take this booklet as a guide shall not concern themselves with protecting their work from disparagement or with determining the one true way, but shall prepare themselves to be unheard and not be troubled by it, as they will remember that sound remains with us only when we are left alone with it.
On Higher Moral Principles in Relation to the Audible
Here, we shall include the musician’s reflections on higher moral principles. Some of them might seem out of place in relation to the audible, though it only means that we're searching in the wrong place. Music and our ways of truly listening to the world developed concurrently with the world, though music, unlike the world, has suffered no falls or grand historical delusions. This does not imply that the purity of the acoustic and musical destiny should be worded as a thesis— "music is not to blame" —but only means that its destiny allows the musician to address higher moral principles directly. Thus, moral truth and moral duty lie in expressing one's pain through sound for the others' highest pleasure, which makes the violation of these principles, should someone dare, consist in bringing one's pleasure into sound in order to cause pain to others. Each must decide this for themselves. Having only started my journey through life, I cannot say which prevails and can only hope that my current and future mentors—musicians, poets, philosophers and patrons—will enlighten me or at least guide me through the turbulent moments of my still fragile life.
On Voice and Sound as the Medium of the Political
One must be cautious about voice and sound as the medium of the political, though not for reasons of safety or cowardice, but because of their intrusion into such realms of the moral that, in turn, intrude upon our relation to sound and shift it into the realm of musical history or the quasi-religious nature of the acoustic world. The political threatens—this statement alone is enough to accept that peculiar side of the sound medium with the courage required to realise oneself as a being that suffers and is subjected to suffering.When a voice breaks through into the political, it is neither debased nor elevated. Idle speculations on the matter always remain the responsibility of those given to chatter. One must distinguish, however, between public and private chatter, public and private voice, and public and private sound. The latter is the most dangerous: being partly inaudible, it can mislead one down paths of the immoral.
On Witnessing and Bearing Witness
Sound is capable of witnessing and bearing witness like no other principle. The musical sound, however deep it might be shoved into ready-made aesthetic forms, bears witness no less. Yet musical sound is weighed down by the added price of instruments, the fame of the musician, the value of the musical, and its circulation as a commodity. Non-musical, music-adjacent, and silent sounds and noises can witness and bear witness as well. Moreover, they bear witness to themselves. In moral terms, this capacity of sound automatically draws the musician into the complex process of bearing witness to something, or someone, or to whatever is happening or not-happening. Any musician carries within themselves the experience and burden of witnessing. It is when they forget about it that they gradually turn into a madman who thinks themself a psychic. And though the madman makes no sense, they are of some use, so they must understand that sound interprets their ignorance as madness. The audible that comes from the madman poses no danger, yet it sounds wrong, like the other side of falsity.
Therefore, do not be madmen, hold on to your witness, and truly listen not to sound only, but to all it has borne witness to.
On the Necessity of Repentance and Acoustic Humility
The theorem of acoustic humility and sonorous repentance states: only those who, through their own sound practices and the governance of their musical work, can attain such a state of the soul—in which the objects of repentance may clothe themselves in sound shells or acquire sonic cores—will bring the maxim of freedom to its ultimate realization. This state rests upon maintaining acoustic humility—that is, the ability to soothe and quiet one's sonic passions. If proved impossible or when external factors demand an increase in volume, to treat said passions as labor. Thus: be quiet, protect your palette of the softest sounds. Sound loud while working; but when you cease to work, fall silent and stay quiet. Bow your heads before the sound and raise your eyes to heavens when you encounter the acousmatic. In this stereoscopic gesture of repentance—gazing toward the heavens and bowing your heads—we shall perform the name of music as it should be performed.