Now that shows are temporarily suspended, the parallel world that reading enables—as a kind of interior staging—seems especially propitious. Not only because it allows us to fantasize, to live stories that we would not live outside the realm of literature, but also to delve into the experience that makes the work of art possible, and specifically the musical work of art. The effect of interpretation on our brain has been studied by scientists—among them Jean-Pierre Changeux—who have shown that the level of activation is comparable to that of imaginal recreation; the experience of situations that, despite not happening de facto, trigger physiological and emotional responses.
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That a novelist like Murakami is interested in music, at this point, should not be surprising. In his youth, he ran a jazz club and on several occasions has declared himself a vinyl collector, and of course a music lover. Also an amateur DJ. A hobby that on May 22—in the midst of lockdown—he shared in radio format, to instill hope and ensure that "a little music dispels the blues that the pandemic has brought." As if he himself were a character from After Dark or Norwegian Wood, two of his most celebrated works—or from Killing Commendatore, one of the most recent—his action musically ratifies the link between memory, imagination, and vital experience. The anchoring in reality, whether fictional (imagined, narrated) or apparently "real" (that perceived by the senses), occurs through the type of affective feedback that characterizes musical impacts. The ancients knew about the incidence of music on mood and humors, something that neuroscience has certified.
Already in the introduction to his new book, Haruki Murakami invokes the thaumaturgical character of music when contextualizing his conversations with Seiji Ozawa, the most important oriental conductor of the 20th century, who in 2010 ---ten years after his memorable visit to L'Auditori de Barcelona, leading the Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester--- had to take a break from professional activity to recover from an illness. Murakami explains that "his physical condition was not optimal, obviously, but when he started talking, his face, it seemed to me, lit up, regained its vivacity." Murakami himself recognizes that "both in the past and in the present, listening to classical music and jazz alternately has been a great stimulus for my spirit and my mind, a very effective way to achieve inner peace." An idea he also expressed during his visit to the city of Barcelona in May 2011, invited by Casa Asia.
"His physical condition was not optimal, obviously, but when he started talking, his face, it seemed to me, lit up, regained its vivacity" (Murakami)But art does not only function as a balm, as accompaniment or extrinsic motivation. The aesthetic experience ---we will never tire of saying it--- possesses an even more valuable potential; such as allowing the recognition, pleasant or painful, of that which intimately challenges one and which emerges only within the framework of fiction or in the course of interpretation. Different but similar activities due to their artificial character, due to the splitting of reality and withdrawal into oneself that occurs in the reader/listener. Regarding the meetings held with the Japanese master throughout 2010, Murakami assumes the specular character and the projections he may have incurred, precisely because of the deep impact of his involvement: "What I was looking for was something like a natural resonance of our hearts (…) I was the interviewer and he was the interviewee. But, at the same time, most of the time I also heard the echo of my own heart.
The excellent critical reception of Música, sólo música is largely due to the spontaneity of the staging that brings Murakami and Ozawa together around their passion for music. It is a series of monothematic conversations: "Only" music is discussed, because music alone acts as a pillar; a spiritual support for many of us, even if its operation ---as Eugenio Trías explained in Lógica del límite--- is usually unconscious, sub limine. Music conditions the mood and is therefore key to the apprehension of everything that happens, with affections being the filter through which reality is shown to us. It is difficult to think of a more personal experience, certainly, but the presence of others is required for music to play. And, if not for that ---since one can always act as soloist and listener---, then certainly to talk about it. Talking about music with another is confirmed as fundamental for becoming aware of its meaning, as a surprised Ozawa confesses to Murakami.
"I was very angry. 'Stop giving cues to the musicians!' he snapped at me. 'That's not the conductor's job!'" (Karajan, to Ozawa)Seiji Ozawa and Haruki Murakami begin by reviewing the memorable addressthat Leonard Bernstein addressed to the audience before performing Brahms' first piano concerto with a soloist—Glenn Gould, admittedly brilliant and eccentric—with whom the maestro had not agreed on the interpretation guidelines. A mythical moment, which directly raises a difficult question to resolve, related to the exercise of power:Who is the boss?Ozawa reveals some details of the relationships between artists without reaching thegossip. Nor is there literary recreation on Murakami's part, who seems to transcribe the master's observations with literalness and reverence. Some names are especially recurrent, such as those of the aforementioned Bernstein or Karajan. Beacons of musical direction and leadership models endowed with practically antithetical temperaments, with whom Ozawa collaborated as an assistant.
Eccentricities do not overabound in the book, however. The interlocutors decline to delve into swampy terrain. Perhaps with excessive zeal, the most piquant or compromising topics are avoided, and inversely—from the perspective of editing—certain content recurrences in Ozawa's answers have not been cut. For example, when he reiterates his poor command of the language to communicate with Bernstein, or when he insists on the issue of reading scores. It goes without saying, on the one hand, that non-music lovers may not approve of the reasons that lead the two friends to listen to and comment on various versions of the same classical work (Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3, among others). Furthermore, on the other hand, some seasoned music lover may detect a couple of inaccuracies in the allusion to orchestras or works.
"In the score there is no reference to being bolder, but you have to read between the lines" (Ozawa)Along with the presence of anecdotes, in any case, it is worth highlighting the inclusion of inspiring statements, which have a taste of oriental wisdom and function beyond the specifically technical nature of the passion to which Ozawa and Murakami dedicate themselves. On at least two occasions, Ozawa reveals the courage required for musical interpretation: "In the score there is no reference to being bolder, but you have to read between the lines." And, even more explicitly, he recognizes elsewhere that "audacity is the best option one can take on many occasions". Audacity, within the respect for rules clearly understandable by all musicians, and without which there would be no room for interpretive freedom. In this sense, the characteristic ductility of thejazz, in which the free flight of rhythmic, timbral, and melodic creativity seems obligatory, captivates both. Murakami, according to the already known biographical reasons, and also Ozawa, who was deeply impacted upon meeting Louis Armstrong: "I am not able to explain in words the charisma Armstrong had. He was what in Japanese we call shibumi, the moment in which an artist reaches maturity, the austerity of his art, the simplicity of execution, and all of that leads to mastery.
Oscillating between normativity and free creation, in an endless dialectic that incorporates the unpredictable in a credible way ---as Aristotle wrote in his Poetics more than 2000 years ago--- the example of jazz, like classical music, effectively transcends the musical realm. Murakami extrapolates the decisions made there to writing. After ceding the spotlight to the experienced master, he equally generously ---as a confidence--- conveys some of the ideas that articulate his novels, for which many claim the Nobel Prize in Literature for him: "Music improves writing, and writing improves listening. It's a double effect, it happens simultaneously in both directions".