LEGATO AND NARCISSISM

Today I read on the New York Times op-ed page an article by David Brooks entitled, "The Gospel of Mel Gibson." In it, citing the recent tirade of the actor as an apt illustration, Mr. Brooks laments the rise of narcissism in our society, characterized by individuals who demand attention and admiration for themselves and are unable or unwilling to consider the needs of others. Oh, the examples that each of us could give of egotists that we either know or read about in newspapers! Although discontents have been complaining about the deterioration of society for thousands of years, I fear Mr. Brooks might be right. (If you don't believe me, read any newspaper.) We Americans--understandably-- are loath to join our fellow workers every morning in a song of praise for the corporation we work for, but--unfortunately--are very willing to sing our own praises before a mirror. Neither example makes for good music. The center no longer holds, as Years predicted; a good case can be made that narcissism is indeed getting worse.
Surely a little egotism and sense of importance can be useful, especially when one is young, but a lot, not. But when a sense of self crosses the threshold into narcissism, it is always bad, both for the individual and for society. There is no need to descant on the defects of runaway egotism here; they are obvious.
The descent is not inevitable. A good way to rise above narcissism--other than through practicing wisdom and love--is to take something or some things in life very seriously. One's vocation, one's avocations, etc. When one takes such things very seriously, one automatically becomes humble. An example: one tries to write the best play possible. Even with Herculean effort and a bit of Orphic talent, however, one will have written a play that is, at best, when compared to one of Shakespeare's, merely passable. But in the process one might have enriched one's inner life; one might have produced a work of art for the delight of others; and, through selfless labor, one might have come closer to overcoming the poison of narcissism.
Trying to play an instrument with the best technique and expression possible, with the utmost faith to the composer's intention, is one of many ways to become less egotistical and more deeply content. I do not want to get too technical, but there are good lessons that anyone can obtain from music. One of them is the concept and practice of legato. It is a good metaphor for the good life and is the subject of this essay.
The Italian word legato means "connected." In a legato phrase, every note must be connected with the next, with as little silence between them as possible. In my instrument, the piano, this means lifting the pressure on the key of the previous note while pressing down on the key of the subsequent note. Believe me, this is not as easy as it sounds--it requires great muscle coordination. One is not allowed to cheat by overlapping notes; each sound must be independent but be connected to the next note without pause. Good phrasing--which will also be briefly discussed--and good legato can make even a good amateur sound great.
But this essay is not a music lesson; it's a lesson on life. Let us consider each note as an individual. Each has its own "pitch," that is, unique characteristics. But if that pitch arises unconnected from the one before it and leads to another unconnected note, the musical effect is ruined. On the other hand, legato does not vitiate the individuality of notes. Each note is important--but its importance is not only in itself but in the beauty of interconnection.
Phrasing, the degree of stress on each note, is compatible with legato and just as important. It can give direction to a musical phrase by proceeding from soft to loud, for instance; it can bring out a melody. In any given piece, some notes are indeed more important than others, but all are essential. Let me give an example from Shakespeare: "To be or not to be, that is the question." To my ear, this verse is best phrased with an emphasis on "that" and a lesser emphasis on the first "be." This is open to interpretation, but I think most lovers of poetry would agree that the emphasis should not be on "question." The phrase would be rendered meaningless, however, if the word "question" was left out.
What I'm trying to demonstrate by this musical example is that narcissism is noise--as is a sense of inferiority, for that matter. The individual might be part of a beautiful Mozart melody or "merely" part of a chord in the bass. Melody and bass complement each other; each alone is a greatly diminished thing. Do you consider yourself important--in other words, have genes and environment allowed you to prosper? Can one ever claim one has accomplished great things alone? I can tell you this: if a mother-figure didn't connect with you in early life; if a father-figure didn't connect with you later in life, you would very possibly be asserting your importance to an asylum mirror. But even if we're important enough to be part of a great melody, if we are unconnected to our neighbors--even those way down in the bass--the effect is lost. Not to mention the effect that results when we leap off the page and play our one individual note over and over. This is "to tell your life the lifelong day/ to an admiring bog," as Dickinson aptly wrote. It is not the good life.
I must now present a coda to this musical essay: understanding legato is not the same as being able to do it. I, for one, find it difficult to transfer the legato of the mind to the legato of the hands. Unfortunately for the lazy among us, it is the latter by which beauty and truth are communicated to others. It takes years of practice to master the art of legato and of phrasing. Similarly, overcoming the staccato of egotism isn't easy--but for my sake, your sake, that is, for our sake, it is incumbent on us to try. We might not become great, but with sincere practice, great progress is always possible.
Listen to a Bach prelude performed by a master; then listen to the Johnny-One-Note coming from your air conditioner. In which of these two collections of sounds do you wish your little note to be found? Find your true legato voice--Connect, connect!