Stefano Fumagalli

The summer sun slowly descended behind the school building, creating a play of light and shadows on the improvised stage. The air vibrated with childlike excitement, my classmates buzzing around me like chattering insects, while parents and teachers talked heatedly on the sides of the playground. I was there, a slightly awkward elementary school child with a cast on my arm, waiting for something I didn't yet know would change my perception of the world.

Then, suddenly, it happened.

The first chord exploded into the air like thunder on a sunny day, shaking not just the atmosphere but every fiber of my being. The music, amplified and powerful, took possession of the playground, transforming the familiar space's quietude into an unexplored sonic universe. Everything was motionless, and everything moved. Despite the cast imprisoning my arm, I felt my body respond involuntarily, as if each note were an invisible thread pulling and moving my muscles.

The band on the stage was probably nothing extraordinary to experienced ears, but for me, in that moment, they were wizards opening a portal to another world. The bass made the ground vibrate beneath my feet, the drums set a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with my heartbeat, and the guitar... oh, the guitar traced sound brushstrokes in the air that I could almost see.

It was in that moment that I understood, even if I couldn't have expressed it in words, that music was not just a backdrop to life, but could be life itself. It was as if someone had turned on a light in a dark room of my mind, revealing colors and shapes I didn't know existed.

From that day forward, my life became a continuous search for that emotion, for that wonder that only the discovery of new sonic territories can gift. Each time an unexpected sound, a surprising harmony, or an innovative rhythm strikes my ears, I still feel the echo of that first encounter in the school playground. It's like a window opens onto an unexplored inner landscape, offering me the possibility of expanding the boundaries of my existence through air vibrations.

This personal experience led me to reflect deeply on the role of active listening in our perception of music and, more generally, in our lives. In the contemporary musical landscape, dominated by streaming and automated algorithms that decide for us, are we losing the ability to truly listen to music? As a producer and composer, I've noticed a worrying trend: the audience seems increasingly and inexorably oriented towards the familiar, losing the capacity to appreciate the unexpected and innovative in music.

The Comfort of the Familiar and the Challenge of the Unexpected

Psychological research offers two interesting perspectives to understand our relationship with music: the "mere exposure effect" and the "confirmation bias". The mere exposure effect explains why we tend to prefer things we've been repeatedly exposed to. Think about how you feel listening to a song for the first time compared to the tenth time. Naturally, if a new song contains familiar elements, we don't need to make new decoding and memorization efforts. Confirmation bias, on the other hand, pushes us to seek information that confirms our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring or devaluing information that contradicts them.

It's similar to feeling more comfortable with an old friend compared to a new acquaintance, or preferring your grandmother's traditional cooking to an exotic and unusually appearing dish. Familiarity offers a safe comfort zone but can also limit our growth and experiences.

In the musical context, these phenomena translate into a preference for easily recognizable sounds, structures, and progressions. The mainstream industry has capitalized, more or less intentionally, on these psychological tendencies. Current productions often rely on the repetition of recognizable musical clichés and citations (sometimes bordering on plagiarism) of past successful tracks. This approach satisfies the listener's expectation, offering a kind of auditory reassurance and confirming the validity of their pre-existing preferences.

However, music, like life, cannot be just reassurance and confirmation of the known. Its deeper meaning emerges when it becomes a representation of something that helps us grow and better understand ourselves and the world around us. The harmonic tensions and relaxations in music reflect the dynamics of our existence, offering us a means to explore and process complex emotions, even those that might initially make us uncomfortable or challenge us.

The history of music and musical genres is dotted with moments where the unexpected opened new sonic and emotional horizons. Without this impulse towards the unexpected, we would have no musical evolution.

Towards Conscious Listening

It is fundamental to stimulate the audience to practice a more conscious listening to music. This means dedicating time to active listening without distractions; exploring genres and artists outside one's comfort zone; paying attention to details like arrangements, productions, and lyrics; and reflecting on how music makes us feel and why.

The concept of "Deep Listening", developed by composer Pauline Oliveros, offers an interesting approach. This practice encourages intense and conscious listening, not just of music but of the entire sound environment surrounding us. Through deep listening, we can develop greater auditory awareness and use music as a tool for personal and spiritual growth.

Reevaluating music's role in our lives, not just as ephemeral entertainment but as a device for well-being and growth, can enormously enrich our listening experience. Opening ourselves to new sounds and musical approaches can expand our emotional and intellectual horizons, allowing us to rediscover music's transformative power.

As John Cage once said: "If you listen carefully to the music, you'll discover there's never repetition. As long as people don't listen, there will be a need to repeat." This quote reminds us of the importance of attentive and conscious listening, capable of capturing the nuances and uniqueness of every musical experience.

I invite each of you to rediscover the magic of musical listening. Take the time to explore new sounds, to immerse yourself completely in a piece, to allow yourself to be surprised. You might discover not just new sonic worlds, but also new parts of yourself. And perhaps, one day, you'll find yourself in a school courtyard, or a club, or a concert hall, with your eyes closed and your heart open, ready to be transported once again by the magic of sound, just like that child with a cast on his arm from many years ago.

[1] Zajonc, R. B. (1968). Attitudinal effects of mere exposure. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 9(2, Pt.2), 1–27.

[2] Nickerson, R. S. (1998). Confirmation bias: A ubiquitous phenomenon in many guises. Review of General Psychology, 2(2), 175–220.

[3] Oliveros, P. (2005). Deep Listening: A Composer’s Sound Practice. iUniverse.