For twenty-five centuries, Western knowledge has tried to look upon the world. It has failed to understand that the world is not for the beholding. It is for hearing. It is not legible, but audible.
Jacques AttaliRead
What is called music today is all too often only a disguise for the monologue of power. However, and this is the supreme irony of it all, never before have musicians tried so hard to communicate with their audience, and never before has that communication been so deceiving. Music now seems hardly more than a somewhat clumsy excuse for the self-glorification of musicians and the growth of a new industrial sector.
Interpretation
The quote criticizes modern music as a facade for power rather than genuine communication, despite musicians' efforts to connect with audiences.
Jacques Attali's quote reflects on the paradox of contemporary music, suggesting that while artists strive to engage with listeners, the essence of their communication has become tainted by commercialism and ego. Instead of serving as a true medium for expression, music is often reduced to a tool for self-aggrandizement and industry growth, undermining its original purpose of connection and emotional resonance.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about the evolution of music and its societal impact.
For twenty-five centuries, Western knowledge has tried to look upon the world. It has failed to understand that the world is not for the beholding. It is for hearing. It is not legible, but audible.
I am sure that as a woman I can do a very good skyscraper.
He drove his kind of realism at me so hard I bounced right into nonobjective painting.
I am a poet who composes what life proses, and who proses what life composes.
I wept when the muse Ulla bent over me. Blinded by tears I could not prevent her from kissing me, I could not prevent the Muse from giving me that terrible kiss. All of you who have ever been kissed by the Muse will surely understand that Oskar, once branded by that kiss, was condemned to take back the drum he had rejected years before, the drum he had buried in the sand of Sapse Cemetery.
In poetry everything which must be said is almost impossible to say well.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.
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