Autistic people and music

[lordlance]

I was prompted to make this thread because I read someone listening to a Mahler/Bruckner? work and commenting how it truly felt like a journey of redemption. (Can't remember specifics.) I can't tell if it's my autism but admittedly I've never really had any visuals or sense of "journey" in classical (that also is why I have difficulty seeing how in a real sense these gigantic 80 minute pieces are truly connected -- perhaps bits and bobs of theme from other movements?)

For me, I must confess the idea of (purely instrumental) programmatic music itself seems dubious. Trying to ascribe meaning to the sounds based on what the composer wants you to listen into it... is fine? But doesn't really seem like something that's intrinsically true. What I mean by that is Romeo and Juliet is a romantic tragedy. It cannot be called a farce. Whereas to me, I think reading about programmatic music feels like making yourself read into things. Wanting to believe things is how the Pathetique Symphony can be misconstrued as being some sort of suicide note when Tchaikovsky himself was actually incredibly happy with the piece.

All of this to say that essentially classical music is completely abstract to me and there is no greater meaning and no visual imagery -- just sound (in my head when listening it'll be images of the instruments themselves.) 

The question to other autistic people is if they feel the same way?

[DavidW]

I don't know if your experience is necessarily tied to neurodivergence.

Many people struggle with identifying the elements of programmatic music that sound frankly abstract, and it has been discussed ad nauseam on this forum.

Also, the question of whether music has emotional content baked in has also been discussed before. Frankly, though, I don't agree with your example. Tchaikovsky being happy with the work and its reception doesn't make the work itself happy. When you hear the author of A Little Life talk about her work, she does so with sarcasm, wit, and humor. But I don't think anyone would say that the novel itself wasn't the most miserable, sad affair that they have ever read.

As far as not hearing the narrative structure, that is very common for people to only hear and respond to melody at first. I found that a music appreciation course does wonders to teach about form. And listening to classical era works that are focused so tightly on form will also help.

There is nothing wrong with how you personally engage with music because you are passionate about it, and that is all that matters. However, there is always room to grow, as long as you are open to the idea that not hearing elements that others are sensitive to is something for you to work on and not dismiss as fake.

[lordlance]

I don't know if your experience is necessarily tied to neurodivergence.

Many people struggle with identifying the elements of programmatic music that sound frankly abstract, and it has been discussed ad nauseam on this forum.

Also, the question of whether music has emotional content baked in has also been discussed before. Frankly, though, I don't agree with your example. Tchaikovsky being happy with the work and its reception doesn't make the work itself happy. When you hear the author of A Little Life talk about her work, she does so with sarcasm, wit, and humor. But I don't think anyone would say that the novel itself wasn't the most miserable, sad affair that they have ever read.

As far as not hearing the narrative structure, that is very common for people to only hear and respond to melody at first. I found that a music appreciation course does wonders to teach about form. And listening to classical era works that are focused so tightly on form will also help.

Also are you saying that typically even those who do enjoy all these pieces if they do not have any musical training, they too would experience them as purely abstract instead of having imagery like nature/sea/etc.? That part is what made me associate it with autism possibly.

There is nothing wrong with how you personally engage with music because you are passionate about it, and that is all that matters. However, there is always room to grow, as long as you are open to the idea that not hearing elements that others are sensitive to is something for you to work on and not dismiss as fake.

I wouldn't dismiss it as fake -- just puzzling.

Also the _work_ might be morose but it isn't some sort of musical suicide note. From whatever I read, we don't really know. Tchaikovsky died shortly after the work's premiere.
 

[71 dB]

I was prompted to make this thread because I read someone listening to a Mahler/Bruckner? work and commenting how it truly felt like a journey of redemption. (Can't remember specifics.) I can't tell if it's my autism but admittedly I've never really had any visuals or sense of "journey" in classical (that also is why I have difficulty seeing how in a real sense these gigantic 80 minute pieces are truly connected -- perhaps bits and bobs of theme from other movements?)

For me, I must confess the idea of (purely instrumental) programmatic music itself seems dubious. Trying to ascribe meaning to the sounds based on what the composer wants you to listen into it... is fine? But doesn't really seem like something that's intrinsically true. What I mean by that is Romeo and Juliet is a romantic tragedy. It cannot be called a farce. Whereas to me, I think reading about programmatic music feels like making yourself read into things. Wanting to believe things is how the Pathetique Symphony can be misconstrued as being some sort of suicide note when Tchaikovsky himself was actually incredibly happy with the piece.

All of this to say that essentially classical music is completely abstract to me and there is no greater meaning and no visual imagery -- just sound (in my head when listening it'll be images of the instruments themselves.)

The question to other autistic people is if they feel the same way?

I have self-diagnosed mild high-functioning autism (Asperger's), but I struggle to understand what you actually mean. What kind of visual imagery are we talking about? Elgar's music gives me moods and feelings just as certain pictures could, but the connection to visual imagery is nevertheless vague.

I am not much into Mahler or Bruckner, so I won't comment on those.

[Brian]

The question to other autistic people is if they feel the same way?

This is very interesting and I think it shows the diversity and variety of autistic and neurodivergent experience. I have recently gotten to know a former orchestra musician who is mildly autistic (not noticeable when you first meet them). To them, music constantly conjures up images, but usually not the composers' intended ones. This person thinks in pictures so the music is constantly creating some kind of picture, based on whatever is happening. Since 71 dB asks - the pictures are like scenes from a silent film: chases, clowns, people fighting, sometimes large animals like elephants or small skittering animals like mice.

This musician also has an unusually large direct reaction to the energy of music - e.g., more energetic when hearing early Beethoven, suddenly sleepy if a slow jazz ballad comes on.

Interestingly, as a player they much preferred virtuoso, technically challenging music to play because it was an interesting problem to solve, and excelled at the most difficult passages. But they hated having to play slow melodic solos.

[lordlance]

A side-note... this was also prompted by Liszt's Die Ideale... For the kicks I read the (translated) poem by Schiller and I think it's rather wonderful (despite personally not liking poetry):

Are you leaving me, unfaithful one,
With all your magical fantasies—
All the thoughts that bring joy or sorrow?
Will you fly away forever with them?
Can nothing stop your forward rush,
You golden time of youthful dreams?
No! Eternity's vast ocean
Endlessly swallows your flowing stream.

The bright suns that enchanted my youth
Have set in endless night;
Those blessed ideals are gone now,
That filled my heart with wild joy.
The child of my dreams has died,
My faith in existence is lost;
The godlike hopes I once held
Are now crushed by harsh reality.

Like Pygmalion, full of longing,
Who hugged his own statue
Until the cold marble warmed,
And life flowed through its body,
So I, fired by young passion,
Wrapped my arms around Nature,
Until, pressed to my inspired chest,
She began to breathe and glow too.

Proving my fiery passion,
Though silent, she soon told her story,
Returned every loving kiss I gave,
Read the beats of my heart.
Then every tree and flower seemed alive,
The waterfall sang sweetly,
And even lifeless things in that moment
Shared in heaven's total bliss.

For then a whole world was bursting
From my heart's narrow cage,
Thirsting to exist
In actions, words, shapes, and sounds.
How huge I thought this world
Before its flowers could bloom!
When open, how small it seemed!
That smallness, how mean and cold!

How happy, bold with courage,
The youth first walked life's twisted path—
No worries weakening his strength,
Blessed in his sweet dream visions!
The faintest star in the sky
Seemed reachable for his flight;
His young, eager wings
Soared beyond what mortals see.

Joyfully climbing toward heaven,
Was anything too far for his bright hopes?
The airy guides attending his steps,
How they danced around life's shining chariot!
Soft love was there, bringing rewards,
Fortune with her golden crown,
Fame wearing her starry wreath,
And truth in unmatched majesty.

But while the goal was still ahead,
The unfaithful guides started to wander;
They grew tired of their task,
Then one by one they fell away.
Quick-footed Fortune fled first,
Then wisdom's thirst went unquenched,
While heavy storms of doubt pounded
The path lit by truth's glow.

I saw fame's sacred crown
On the heads of the unworthy;
And oh! How soon love's happy dawn
Vanished when spring was gone!
More silent, more weary,
The desert path I walked became;
Even hope cast only a dim, sad light
On the gloomy road.

Of all that joyful group,
Who stays faithful to the end?
Who will cheer my sadness now,
And walk with me to the grave?
You, Friendship, fairest of guides,
Who gently heals every hurt;
Who shares all life's heavy loads,
You, whom I found early!

And Work, your loving neighbor,
Who calms the heart's rising storms;
Who never tires of her effort,
And builds slowly without destroying;
Who adds just grains of sand
To swell eternal heights,
Yet wipes away minutes, days, years
From time's dreadful count!

'swell eternal heights': Add to timeless greatness.

'contributes to eternity': Builds lasting legacy.

{Wanted to keep this inside a contracted quote block. Can't find the option.}

Perhaps now I shall try to find which lines correspond to what. The problem for me personally is that I know the music rather well - not musicologically, not the exact bar or the exact terminology but the sound or the structure (at least my idea of it) - and I wish I could find analyses which just used timestamps. From what I know that's what Carragan did for the Bruckner Red Book.