MUSIC AS A JIGSAW

Would Mozart have played the blues?

Could Wagner have been a Metalhead?

If music is a jigsaw, then very few of us, if any, ever get the whole picture. For many of us, the image is full of black holes. Music is beloved by so many, but rarely does a mind come along that can encompass anything like its entirety. It isn’t all music that is beloved. I doubt there is anyone who adores Death Metal, Puccini, Webern, Gilbert and Sullivan, Reggae, Adele, and the songs from Glee all at once. But perhaps there is. What about someone who loves ancient Icelandic music, the songs of Cilla Black and Taylor Swift, The Troggs, Eminem, late Beethoven quartets, Kurt Weill, Perry Como, and Wagner? I could go on with these combinations but will restrain myself—I am finding them too diverting! It is all a matter of taste.

I presume it is also a matter of how each person hears these various genres. Being able to hear into the world of Death Metal requires bravery; for me, it requires a muting of my defences. I feel invaded by this music. It encroaches on my sanity, much like Stockhausen's Hymnen does, especially when played through headphones. These are intense, demanding tracts. Yet, I feel equally invaded by the insipid: by plaintive, narrow-voiced pop songs with the repetitive theme of losing a lover (“Ouch, you hurt me [expletive], I will never recover”). Turn back the clock, however, to Dowland's Flow My Tears (Semper Dowland, Semper Dolens) or Purcell's Dido's Lament, and I am uplifted. To me, they offer a far more interesting message.

This sense of potential invasion highlights the unique, fleeting nature of sound. In Touching the Rock: An Experience of Blindness, John M. Hull captures this beautifully, writing:

"The acoustic world is one in which things pass in and out of existence. This happens with such surprising rapidity. There seems to be no intermediate zone of approach... The seen world cannot escape from your eyes... But I have only very limited power over the acoustic world. It is thus a world which comes to me, which springs into life for us…"

And, of course, when the sound is musical, there are many other factors falling into place. Rather like the nature-nurture debates, we may have grown up with musical wallpaper that we retain a deep love for, or conversely, a deep aversion to (like those tracks played on repeat in a car during family holidays). Some of us may have learned to love, or at least appreciate, Stockhausen’s Hymnen; some may have even learned to cope with "Don’t Cry for Me Argentina." In some ways, it may be much like developing an appreciation for what initially felt like difficult abstract art—by discovering its nuances and the journey the artist took with their intentions.

That vast musical jigsaw contains so many more pieces. In some places, there are chains of interlinking pieces that require sequencing for true learning to take place—such as finding your optimal hand position for a tricky passage, or adjusting the precision of your embouchure to liberate the music. There are also sturdy blocks in the overall scheme of things that can be taken in isolation. Rhythm can exist without pitch; an excellent drummer may find themselves challenged when trying to sing in tune. Conversely, a beautiful voice is not always accompanied by the ability to keep perfect time. Reading music from a manuscript allows you to access huge swathes of musical history. However, reading music doesn't mean you can deliver an authentic rendition of an unaccompanied traditional folk song, or sing the blues with panache. Playing boogie-woogie is an art in itself that requires no sheet music. In fact, playing boogie-woogie or a jazz track strictly from a score often fails to capture its fantastic spontaneity.

Most of us can never aspire to complete the musical jigsaw. We might connect a few pieces and give up, like so many people who played the piano as a child and regret not carrying on into adulthood. We might finish one corner and a large block to one side, finding that satisfying enough—like a singer with a lovely voice who, despite having a wide repertoire, doesn’t feel the need to perform. We might have half the edge, alongside a random collection of unconnected, similarly coloured pieces that could fall into place given the right setting. We might even complete a section from the middle with no way to link it to the rest. At best, it is patchy. We might just love music without engaging in any formal relationship with it; for many, music simply functions as the background to everyday life.

So, Mozart could certainly have played the blues, being gifted at seeing into the internal structures of a genre and extemporising around them. Could Wagner have been a Metalhead? Well, his dramatic, operatic storytelling certainly aligns with the grandiose, conceptual nature of bands in the death metal scene.

This musical jigsaw isn't a 250-piece job; it is more like a 25,000-piece one, as individual traits, skills, and social dynamics interlock.

LH May 2026