Anca Dumitrescu
posted 18 January 2007

'Humans are naturally musical'. At least this is what Howard Goodall likes to believe. In the TV series, How Music Works, first broadcast on Channel 4 in December 2006, Goodall develops a pedagogic argument supported by revealing examples and a clear narrative. Whilst How Music Works is well-pitched to appeal to a wide audience, its poor production values and the overall lack of debate on 'what music is' seriously weaken Goodall's endeavour.

Goodall's aim is to unfold the different layers that make what we call music, irrespective of its style or epoch (classical, traditional/folk music, pop music, etc). By keeping his argument clear and concise, his design is to reach and educate a wide and diverse audience. It is a series of music lessons for the 'people', using short but effective examples, and avoiding pointlessly sophisticated language. There is often a temptation to develop arcane arguments in the field of (classical) music. Goodall's argument remains simple and intelligent.

Music is broken down into four elements, which build an internal progression. From 'Melody' (Part I), which is probably how the general public defines music, to 'Rhythm' (Part II), which examines how rhythm animates melody, the narrative arrives at 'Harmony' (Part III) and 'Bass' (Part IV), two elements that constitute the more obscure part of music. In fact, the entire series is constructed around these four simple components, which are in turn divided into several elementary notions: tempo, minor/major scale, tonic/dominant, etc… These notions, which are the bread and butter of every music student, are then used to analyse Western classical music, African traditional music or Cuban songs. The remarkable variety of examples and, more astonishingly, the way Goodall jumps from one musical genre to another while following the same thread (whether it is rhythm, bass, etc), is highly laudable.

In 'Rhythm', Goodall applies the same analytical tools (syncopation, shifting accents, etc.) to explore Stevie Wonder's 'Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing' and Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No 5. In doing so, his argument stresses that the traditional barriers erected between musical genres are down to sheer prejudice and do nothing but create an illegitimate separation. When Nina Simone's 'My Baby Just Cares for Me' is put on par with Purcell's 'Dido's Lament', Goodall reunites what most people tend to separate, thus proving that music is truly universal, from both a geographical and a social point of view. The combination of examples from a wide range of musical genres allows Goodall to avoid a mistake often made by the elite and musical programme producers: that of claiming that only classical music can be genuine music, while pop and folk should be confined to the curiosities department of their musical museum. In this, Goodall truly deserves praise for showing that one does not have to be part of the elite to be able to appreciate Baroque music. But the praise must stop here.

In spite of its numerous tricks designed to engage the general public, the very way the documentary is made seriously damages its credibility and jeopardises its original aim. Throughout the series, Goodwall is shown in a minimalist and would be high-tech mise-en-scène dominated by metallic colours. It is difficult to account for this: was it to emphasise that (classical) music and cultural programmes are not necessarily boring and old-fashioned? Sadly enough, the setting looks prosaic and cheap and tends to convey a feeling of coldness and remoteness… And this is probably what the producers most wanted to avoid.

Instead of using excerpts from historical performances - Leonard Bernstein's famous 'Young People's Concerts' for CBS with the New York Philharmonic in the 1950s could have been an easy and brilliant example - the producers chose to stage most of the musical performances themselves. Classical musicians (and classical music itself) are portrayed as denizens of empty castles and smoky cathedrals; Bulgarian folk singers are awkwardly positioned against kitsch settings and dressed up in multicoloured traditional garments reminiscent of the pioneering days of TV. Although 'Rhythm' and 'Harmony' draw more heavily on recordings of actual performances and are more likely to appeal to the public, 'Melody' barely uses them at all. Not only does this put off the viewer from the very beginning, but it also reinforces common clichés about the musical genres.

At the same time, this documentary will not increase the understanding of those already well-versed in music. As the series develops, Goodall does not always avoid the common pitfalls of Eurocentrism and evolutionary progress - two sins bedevilling 'Melody' and 'Harmony'. Considering the audience targeted by this TV programme, Eurocentrism is perhaps less of a sin. Evolutionary progress (or the idea that the history of art can be understood as a forward march) is nevertheless highly debatable. As noticed by Goodall himself, Jazz - relying mainly on the 'broken' beat - brought syncopation to our attention. Yet syncopation also lay at the heart of Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. Unless progress in music is defined as a return to great discoveries that were never or seldom exploited (which does not seem to be the argument underpinning How Music Works), Goodall's arguments sometimes lack coherence and logical backing.

Furthermore, if Nina Simone can stand a comparison with Bach or Beethoven, the author of this review has serious doubts about the musical quality of Beyoncé's song 'Déjà vu' (also given as an example by Goodall). The Beyoncé bait could perhaps have led the audience into a more serious analysis and debate about the nature of music. However, at no point of the documentary does its narrator discuss what good music is. Connoisseurs can probably nail down what makes Stevie Wonder's songs and Bach's cantatas timeless, while Beyoncé's record was an ephemeral hit. Yet this distinction does not come naturally. An appreciation of good music has to be fostered, perhaps by documentaries like How Music Works - alas, Goodall's programme does not deliver. A similar disappointment comes when he stages a group of African musicians. Fascinating though drums may be, African music seems to be reduced to the state of pure rhythm. Is sheer rhythm a sufficient condition to create music? And how do melody, rhythm, harmony and bass all coalesce together into music? What is the secret of this alchemy called music? Goodall only mentions these last questions, without providing any further insight.

'Humans are naturally musical' and 'simply feeling and loving music is enough', Goodall concludes. Music and, broadly speaking, art, are never and cannot be natural. We are all endowed with auditory abilities. In the same way as sounds belonging to our daily environment reach our ears, we can all hear Beethoven's music; but very few actually listen to it. Paradoxically enough, it takes a couple of Goodall's music lessons to begin listening to it. Those of us who are familiar with Turner's cloudy skies and misty Thames know how they have fundamentally altered the way we now perceive these things in reality. Because of Turner's paintings, we can now better distinguish the density and texture of real clouds. By sharpening our senses, painting, art and music in particular render sensations and objects more real and more charged than they are.

Music is indeed intuitive, but it can be appreciated fully only when our educated senses have become second nature for us.