I recently had the joy and privilege of meeting an incredible group of jazz musicians and chatting with them into the small hours of the morning–one of those delightful conversations that moves so naturally from one idea to the next while time slips away unnoticed. 

As we were talking about what it means to fashion a successful career in music, the drummer shared an interesting personal dilemma: though he excels at–and absolutely loves–music, he realizes that his personal choices could lead him into any one of a number of careers.  In a productivity-centric society, a musician feels a twinge of guilt: would it be more moral or at least more worthwhile to pursue a career that does more “good” in the world–say, “saving lives” by curing illnesses or developing vaccines?

One of the group pointed out that music can be a healing force, especially for the mind and emotions–not only in a clinical “music therapy” setting, but even in other, less formal ways.  Another suggested that one accomplishes the most good in the world by exercising one’s strongest gifts and abilities, whether that means “saving lives” through medicine or “just” making music.  In this way, we as a society have the best possible medicine and music.

The medical comparison struck me: are we so focused on preserving and extending our physical lives that we devalue the quality of the life we have while we have it?  Of course, working to improve health and “save lives” is an extremely noble and important pursuit.  But who is valiantly struggling to help us live lives that are full, rich, joyful, enlightening?  This is the realm of the musician (and artist, and writer, and parent, and teacher, and clergy member…).  Making and enjoying great music is part of living a beautiful life–in this sense, the musician is a practitioner of beauty–a contributor as indispensable as the surgeon.

When we consider music performed live, such as at Cultural Center events, its importance is even more far-reaching.  Here, musical events become shared, communal experiences that bring people together.  We move to the same rhythm, delight at the same displays of virtuosity, laugh at the same anecdote shared by the performer.  And then we talk about it.  Sounds simple–but it’s part of that rich, joyful life–the kind of life we want to preserve because it is so sweet.