Why music sometimes frustrates me

I think my sister first asked me this question, and I think it’s a great one:

Would you rather be able to teleport [1] or transmogrify [2]?

[1] You can appear anywhere on earth that you can visualize in your mind (say, from having been there or having seen a picture), with up 25 pounds of what you’re wearing or carrying. It will appear as if you’ve travelled there at the speed of light.

[2] You can change shape into any living creature (nothing mechanical), of reasonable size, say as small as an ant to as big as a bear, and assume its abilities. You can be anything plausible, e.g. a human with wings. You can change your appearance to anything you can imagine, including but not limited to what other people look like.

What would you choose? The question is surprisingly difficult, I think. In an informal polling, I’ve found the answer to be sharply divided across gender lines (but I won’t say which way).

Music…
I was telling my friend Jonathan the other day about why I sometimes think music is frustrating. Of course, if you know me, you know that I also think it’s totally awesome. But in certain situations…

Okay, think about three mainstream forms of art: movies/TV, books, and music. The first time you watch a movie or read a book, you’re probably going appreciate most of its total impact on you. When you’re done watching or reading, you can say with pretty good confidence, “Hey that was good.” (Or bad.) Subsequent viewings/readings can heighten your appreciation as you discover nuances, etc., but only by a little bit, and anyway just as often you don’t even enjoy the item as much as you did the first time around.

Music, of course, is totally different. It’s nearly impossible to gauge how good an album is on first listen. With some exceptions (I can think of, recently, Bachelor No. 2, Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia, Sea Change…) great albums require you to listen to them repeatedly to fully appreciate them, or even come close.

And this is why music is sometimes frustrating. You’re going to enjoy a concert a lot more if you know all the music beforehand. The friend’s carefully concocted road trip mix won’t be anywhere nearly as exciting for you as it will be for him the first time he slips it into your car stereo. On a more personal note: the song that you’ve just recorded — that’s been running through your head for weeks — will probably be cut off by a new listener after a minute of play time.

Sure, there’s something awesome about a piece of art that grows stronger the more it is experienced, about sounds that defeat the test of time and novelty. Maybe it has something to do with what I mentioned here, that movies and books are immersive, whereas music molds itself to your own experience, so it has a better shot of growing with you. In fact, it’s pretty amazing that listening to a CD for the nth time actually can be a) a rewarding experience and b) even better than the previous time. There are few other things in my life for which this is the case.

Even so. I’d love to be able to put an album in my CD player for the first time and appreciate it for its full worth, or close to it. I don’t think that’d make me like it any less. Sure, I wouldn’t have the memory of the experiences I had while listening to it (the album I have on now, Achtung Baby, well I’ve listened to so many times past the point of familiarity that it’s like an old friend to me, for instance), but those would come anyway as I listened to the album more and more. Which I would — hmm, but maybe not as much. Some of my favorite albums I can just hold in my hand and almost experience what it’s like to listen to them that way.

But for the vast majority of albums that are just good to great but that still require that large initial investment, well, it’s frustrating.