Talent

Ever since first learning to play, I’ve often been struck by the amount of people, in the music world and otherwise, who put a vast amount of emphasis on ‘talent’ when discussing musical proficiency. People use this word in their own way of course, but it seems that in regards to music, many of us apply it as a shortcut to explaining something that on the surface seems inscrutable: it has become a way to skirt around that which we cannot explain. I’m not about to suggest that natural aptitude doesn’t play a role, but I do think that making ‘talent’ as we’ve come to use it, the most salient contributor to overall musical ability does raise some interesting questions regarding our collective understanding of how music is made.

The central issue is that the word ‘talent’ appears so incredibly broad in its meaning. It is often used as a term that lumps in learnt and applied knowledge (including the accrual processes) with raw, genetic aptitude. A common result is a view that any proficient individual is merely lucky to have been born with such skill. There are blurred boundaries between these contributing factors, but I think they are separable to a degree in most of our minds when examined clearly enough.

Perhaps the primary reason for this over-simplified view is that we don’t all speak the language of music. That isn’t to say that we can’t all appreciate it and have it move us profoundly; our emotional connection is clearly not limited to our personal aptitude for it and in some ways our intellectual connection isn’t either, but many of us are so disconnected to the fundamental building blocks of music that we are completely blind to the processes. It’s then far easier to attribute proficiency to out-of-the-womb talent, rather than acknowledge the many complexities of process and craft.

In much of mainstream music, the favoured narrative is often one of zero to hero or a Cinderella-like transformation of an individual who is able to shine given the appropriate ‘big break’. Many of these sentiments are expressed purely for entertainment value but it seems that they have slipped sideways into our understanding of music. I’ve found that these kinds of narratives can be misleading and often lead to the rather clumsy stance that ‘you’ve either got it or you haven’t’, once again implying purely genetic or God given talent. It’s hard to explain why someone is skilled and how, using specifics, therefore it must be purely the result of an intangible talent or gift.

We aren’t as tempted to explain all other artistic disciplines in this mystical way. For example, we don’t tend to use ‘talent’ in the way previously mentioned to explain all aspects of someone’s skill in speaking or writing. We notice how clearly or beautifully they use language, how idiosyncratic the expression, how sophisticated and nuanced the ideas and so on, but we all have enough of an understanding of how language works in order to join at least some of the dots when observing a linguistic virtuoso. Music is slightly harder to pin down in this regard. Sound floats invisibly over us and requires a clunky translation in order to describe it, particularly music without lyrics. Add to that a continuum of appreciation, which on one end contains the legitimate transcendent experiences that audiences, musicians and composers alike can have, and at the other end, music’s relative unimportance in most education systems, it’s no surprise that the creation of music is an intensely difficult subject to grapple with.

In my experience, the reality is that for much of musical life, the process is akin to speaking a language; one must possess ideas, vocabulary and grammar in order to express something. If one picks up a trombone, quickly discovers that a viable sound cannot be made and none of the notes are known, it is quickly apparent that it is impossible to express much at all. To progress, one must take small steps to build knowledge and learn how to apply that knowledge. This tends to require a mixture of the creative ability to visualise a future self who is more adept, whilst almost simultaneously being in the current moment of drudgery associated with learning a particular and often mundane detail.

For many of us involved in music, a significant amount of learning happens without being conscious of the mechanics. For example, if someone has listened in a non-passive (and to a lesser extent, passive) way to a particular artist more than any other, they will be significantly influenced by that artist (in positive and/or negative ways) whether they are conscious of the mental coding or not. It’s analogous to diet in that respect. A ‘you are what you eat’ in musical terms.

The ability to read music, or often the inability, is commonly cited as evidence of talent. How can one make such wonderful music and yet not read a single note? Knowledge and its applications are clearly not dependant on the ability to read. There are many ways to learn. Do you shut yourself off from various streams of information if you don’t read? Of course. But some musical dialects are mastered (often traditionally) without pen or paper involved.

Personality is a sizable factor. In a way it encompasses what we might call ‘talent’ as it includes a wide range of characteristics which contribute in lots of ways to the ability to progress. For instance, patience is incredibly useful when practising or rehearsing and confidence plays a huge role in performing in front of audiences; I’ve met many musicians who combat various psychological barriers to performing on a daily basis, whereas some have felt at home from the first time they stepped out onto a stage.

Physicality also plays a significant role. Some instruments lend themselves to certain builds and some people have vocal chords well suited for singing. As well as unalterable differences, many of these characteristics can be developed and not necessarily through music. For example, an individual’s skill as a dancer will partly emerge as coordination and rhythmic awareness, which is also a clear advantage when applied in a musical context.

Whether you are making music that is emotionally complex or relatively simple; whether you are a performing musician or a composer, ability arises from information that in turn facilitates expression. Natural aptitude undoubtedly plays a part, making certain processes easier or more instinctive; processes such as problem solving, cross-discipline learning, self-awareness, mental focus, emotional reflection etc. There can of course be moments of inspiration and self-transcendence but in order for these moments to occur, the buoyancy of craft is required. Try sitting down as a non-musician and waiting for inspiration to come. It’s highly unlikely you will pick up an instrument and write a masterpiece, no matter how much natural talent is lurking innately. Even with the wind of craft in your sails, there is rarely a lightning strike moment; more of a thunder that swells and recedes gradually and is connected to shared knowledge. It undoubtedly sounds sexier to say that an individual has been bestowed a prodigious gift and is subject to episodes of unexplainable genius, rather than taking a closer look at the amalgamation of personal characteristics and acquired knowledge through experience.