J.S. Cooke

Last week, a friend of mine sent me a short essay, entitled “Hearing the Notes That Aren’t Played,” by David Mamet, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Glengarry Glen Ross. The essay concerns what makes for good writing, and draws upon Mamet’s experience playing the piano to illustrate his ideas. While Mamet is a writer, he draws upon a variety of different arts to demonstrate the application of his ideas.

The primary insight he offers comes from Joel Silver, who produced several of Mamet’s wife’s (Rebecca Pidgeon) records. Joel tells Mamet “Leave out the third—we hear it anyway.” Silver is referring to the third as part of a triad, the three-note chord that is the fundamental building block of all Western music, from Bach to the Beatles to the Beta Band to Beirut. The three tones that make up a triad are the first, the third, and the fifth. Of these, the third is the note that can change, becoming either major or minor and providing the color of the chord.

Mamet argues that in music as well as writing, the human ability to extrapolate and contextualize renders the third unnecessary. “We hear it anyway.” He mentions how Chekhov removed the plot, Pinter the narration, and Becket the characterization. He goes on to write a particularly beautiful paragraph about Bach’s music:

It is in our nature to elaborate, estimate, predict—to run before the event. This is the meaning of consciousness; anything else is instinct. Bach allows us to run before, and his resolutions, as per Aristotle, are as inevitable (as they must be, given the strictures of Western compositional form) and surprising as his elaborate genius. We are thus delighted and instructed, as per Freud, in a nonverbal way, as to the varieties of perception, possibility, completion—we are made better.

Obviously Bach did not always (or even often) leave out the third. But his music does travel in such a way as to require the listener’s mind to develop expectations that are either confirmed or surprised by what comes next. Therein lies the charm.

But beyond chords and harmonies, I feel that this maxim can be similarly applied to lyrics. Take Bruce Springsteen, for example. His lyrics are often so detailed, his descriptions so lush, that little is left to the imagination. Compare this to soul music, where the lyrics are often as simple as can be. “I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you,” for example (from Sam Cooke’s “For Sentimental Reasons). Pretty much everything is left to the imagination. Plus, Sam’s wonderful voice ensures that pretty much any thoughts you have will be beautiful ones.

Below is some Bach and some Cooke. If you listen to the Bach all the way through (both pieces), you'll get to experience one of the more famous deceptive cadences of all time (talk about upending expectations). It's also one of the more intense classical pieces I know of; I always thought it could be turned into a great hip-hop beat by someone more talented than I. Enjoy.

J.S. Bach – Passacaglia & Fugue in C Minor - Passacaglia (YSI) (dropbox)
J.S. Bach - Passacaglia & Fugue in C Minor - Fugue (YSI) (dropbox)
Sam Cooke – (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons (YSI) (dropbox)