I should first clarify what I mean by great music. It should be truly inspiring, uplifting music that truly holds you captive: not the kind of music you can work to, or something that you greet passively; rather, the music should engage you, and impart something fresh     upon each listen. In short, the great piece should be inexhaustible: as close to aural perfection as humanity can achieve.

As I’ve learned, a great part of music’s general survival is great fortune (or, fate, if one prefers). Tomorrow, we could wake up to the re-discovery of one of the greatest composers who we’ve never heard of prior, only to question how we’ve never known their music before.

It’s not that far-fetched when one considers how the music of Bach, arguably the greatest composer of the Baroque period, fell into obscurity for nearly a century. Or that Vivaldi, who preceded Bach, was barely re-discovered at the turn of the 20th century. It’s unknown how much great music from how many brilliant composers are gathering nothing but massive potential energy sitting in the basements and libraries of the world.

Furthermore, there are many instances of composers, who, at the pinnacle of their careers, were immensely successful, but have somehow succumbed to obscurity. Take, for instance, Giocomo Meyerbeer, whom you’ve likely never heard of, unless you’re a hard core opera fanatic. It’s totally possible that 50 years from now, the name Tom Petty could have no value (my gut tells me some of you are bawling, some rejoicing).

Let this color your opinion for the rest of the article: that more than half the battle is luck in being remembered. But, for the pieces and songs that are extant, consider this –– I believe the vast majority of great pieces of music, in my opinion, are born out of some great pain, with an affirmation of the human spirit.

There must be some air of desperation, but at the end, some kind of renewal of hope. For that, I cite such examples as Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Duke Ellington’s ‘Solitude,’ The Beatles’ ‘A Day in the Life,’ Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ and 2Pac’s ‘Dear Mama.’
These select personal examples should emphasize the point that ‘great’ music does not equal ‘classical’ pieces. There are a number of frivolous, trite pieces that have been written for orchestra, just as there are sublime pieces that have been written for nothing more than the bare human voice and a jangly guitar. The use of expansive textures, orchestrations and forms does not necessarily make a piece great, and pieces that lack such ‘advanced’ techniques should not be thought immature purely due to that fact.

Of course, great pieces can be fun, lively, thriving. Though I have a Romantic sensibility of ‘art resulting from pain and torture,’ great music can be frivolous. However, it’s merely my opinion that it merely takes more to make a frivolous piece great: it has to be really great, to be great.

It’s important to note great music isn’t always immediately popular. But generally, really great music has universal appeal: it’s why, for instance, most people can appreciate Beethoven’s Ninth, even if they don’t like other orchestral music. But music that’s highly in vogue doesn’t always mean that it’s great (refer to the earlier definition). Popular music with mass appeal (not referring to the genre) is music that hits the right collective nerve at the right time. It can give pleasure, for sure.

But great music, though it can give pleasure, truly speaks to the soul, and is timeless. It’s that music that takes your breath away, that leaves you in awe. Indulge in your own rendition of great music today. Slow down, and truly immerse yourself in each note, each word, every phrase, every gesture.

And, as ideal and liberal-arts-college-studenty as it sounds, live the music you hear. You won’t regret it.