Music in Prose

[X Equestris]

Here’s something I’ve wrestled with more than once: what are the most effective ways to describe music in prose?

When it’s a minor detail in a scene, it’s easy enough to throw in a few appropriate adjectives. But how about when the narrative focus is on the music? Or the music drives the plot? A handful of adjectives will fall flat. As C.S. Lewis said:

Don’t use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was “terrible,” describe it so that we’ll be terrified. Don’t say it was “delightful”; make us say “delightful” when we’ve read the description.

But what techniques can evoke the feel and flow of music in a soundless medium?

Last year, I wrote a dark fantasy story inspired by the Pied Piper. Naturally, music played a pretty big role. The villain protagonist is a minstrel, and instrumental music drives the climactic scene. I’m not sure I’ve ever tackled a more difficult one. In the end, I decided to use flashes of lore the music was written to evoke in-universe to do the same for the reader and wove in some musical terms to create a sense of its movements, but I doubt this would’ve worked if the POV character wasn’t also the musician.

If you’ve ever featured music at length in your prose fiction, what worked? What didn’t? Any examples from fiction that come to mind, good or bad? Since my current project features sirens, I’m very curious to hear what other folks think.

 

[THUNDAIR]

I wrote this a while ago. Maybe some would find it interesting.

Prose inspired by music
When you hear Beethoven’s Fifth, you know that something big is being proclaimed, and the melody that follows gives us a chance to contemplate the enormity of it. Another great opening is John Williams' foreshadowing, a signal of an impending doom, in the movie ‘Jaws.’ And you can’t help but be consumed by the somber air of ‘Nights in White Satin,’ setting a tone.
If we could give our prose, the feeling like these musical works possess 0, a feeling that seeps into our souls, we would find our work being read and quoted to others as something moving. Words that would have readers going back to them again and again. Some would say that only poetry falls into the category of reading something over and over. But that begs the question: why can’t our short stories be as interesting as a poem or a musical piece?
One might say music has an advantage with all the instruments, which brings a feeling that a reader cannot conjure. Still, without musical instruments, people will quote songs, like “I've been in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time” by Doctor John, and I’m sure there are many more we could remember.
Music is more objective in its structure. Requiring a resolution for some changes where you may need a step or half step to get to your new chord. This is what an author would call a transition. So if music can’t ignore them, why would an author? That is how we get comments like, “it’s a little blocky.” But should that be acceptable?
Timing is another objective that music lives by. Our brains will awake to a surprise, which springs from a moderate verbiage. It wouldn’t be a pleasant surprise if it came on strong and never subsided.
Timing also drives the rhythm, and if you like the rhythm of a song, your prose could have that, which the writer would refer to as pace. Changing the pace adds flavor, intensity, and angst to a piece, but where it changes may require a marker or transition. Music will sometimes use a bridge or a turnaround to make the change. I think back to Leonard Cohen when he sang about the minor fall and a major lift in 'Hallelujah.' When you turn your ear to a chord change from major to minor, your thought may be; that was interesting, and I like it.
Music will often let the intensity subside to allow a recovery of sorts. I think of the Hu playing, Wolf Totem and how the break is used to reflect on the intensity of the lyrics, just as a writer would moderate the passion in their verbiage, allowing the reader time to reflect. Whether it is foreshadowing, announcing, or setting the tone. Music can inspire your prose.

 

[Night Herald]

I use a fair amount of music in my writing, most prominently with the character of Erich Zann in Yggdrasilium. I'm not sure if what I did worked a hundred percent or not, I just tried my best to capture the atmosphere and the effects it has on its player—this is special, darkly magical spooky music, don't you know.

Before long, the weird, mournful melodies he composed on a whim drew a small crowd. This was music of a kind never heard in Nexus before the advent of Erich's arrival. That is quite the feat in a city of billions drawn from tens of thousands of worlds, when one considers the sheer variety of musical instruments and traditions; although, in fairness, that which Erich played was not really music at all, but rather music's capricious third cousin twice removed. If one is to call it music, it should only be for ease of reference.
Unique though it was, that isn't to say it was any good. Few listeners stayed once the novelty wore off. Erich did not particularly care. He did not play for them, or even really for the scant coins they tossed into his case. He played because the music was his opium: the wellspring of his sorrows, and the one thing that relieved them.

He removed his viol from its coffin and began moving the bow across it, restrainedly at first, as though easing the instrument awake. He gradually increased the tempo, and wove in more and more vibratos and discordances. Soon he was playing with complete abandon, swaying, sweating, his bow sawing and whipping at the strings, his hand crawling up and down the viol's neck like a spider having a seizure.

Faster and faster the music poured from his aching hands, ever angrier and increasingly obscene. He had never played so recklessly before. Not even in his darkest moods had he plucked these unholy notes from his instrument. Sweat soaked his undershirt. The muscles in his arms burned. His joints hurt worst of all. And still, Erich could not stop playing.

Yeah, I dunno. That's the best I think I was gonna be able to do with that. I can hear it, and if it spawns anything remotely comparable in the reader's mind that's good enough for me. The main thing to get across is that it is "sour, squeaky" and "not really music as commonly thought of".

 

[Homer Potvin]

Here’s something I’ve wrestled with more than once: what are the most effective ways to describe music in prose?

My guitar teacher uses a three axis graph to describe music. I think he made it up--and I doubt there's an actual physical graph--but his three elements are:

Rhythm: which could include fast or slow, staccato or legato, chaotic or leisurely, etc

Harmony: the notes themselves, happy or sad, smooth or funky, nice or mean, etc

Dynamics: how the song presents itself, loud or soft, clean or dirty, etc

There's some overlap in there probably, but you get the idea. Sometimes it's easier to describe music in how it makes you feel or how it is being perceived as if were something non-musical.