Mendhilssohn revived JS Bach, who otherwise may have been forgotten. Johnny Cash went from popular, to almost forgotten, to hugely popular cross-audience. Documentaries like "Summer of Soul" and "Get Back" made artists more popular to new audiences.
The hard part of answering this question is not just the quality of music, but predicting advancements in technology. In a few years we'll be enjoying hologram concerts from dead artists in our living room. 100 years from now we may have such a huge percentage of centenarians that classical, jazz, & folk might be dominant. As popular as Taylor is among her dedicated fans, I think she needs to evolve beyond her current type of pop songs and appeal to a larger audience to be widely listened to 100 years from now.
But I don't think it's the 'intellectuality' of the music which makes it timeless -- though we may interpret it intellectually -- rather it's the transcendent nature of the music itself (of whatever genre) which allows it to rise above the sound & rhythm...to escape the topicality which inevitably impacts the artist and the way the instruments are played, the way the music is composed, the ways in which the lyrics are written....and to make a statement of Truth which stands in a kind of splendid isolation, distinct and apart from any number of pieces which might otherwise appear similar.
That kind of music speaks to us and very probably will always speak to us because it is in its nature to do so. The artist himself may be unable to exactly articulate why or how this happens....let alone replicate on a future recording...but quite clearly it does happen. And it happens in particular with music because great & transcendent music lacks the inherent distractions which accompany almost all other forms of art. Poetry, perhaps, comes close in its pared down elegance:
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Or...
I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
It doesn't matter how often I read that; it's always new; it always pierces.
Music (great, transcendent music) the same....but by nature it's even more impossible to describe, if only because we don't intellectually encounter it, we do so emotionally, with our bodies, our skin, our souls.
There's a micro-genre on YouTube: people listening, for the first time, to Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma. Within seconds, it brings them to tears (almost without exception). They don't know the composer... they don't know Pavarotti...they don't know Opera...and they don't know the language...and yet the tears stream down their faces. Why is that? Why do we, sitting at home, hearing it for maybe the 500th time, have the same reaction?
Puccini's Turandot is 100 years old. I'm sure 500 years from now, people listening to Pavarotti sing Nessun Dorma will still have the same reaction.
I don't think "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" will have that timelessness (though it's already lasted 61 years), except for those for whom mid-20th century Rock is IT.
We must distinguish music we may listen to because we like it still...and music which will be listened to when no one who knew it originally is still here. (For that reason, personally, I believe Rap/HipHop is transient.)
We must also distinguish music which has that effect upon us, idiosyncratically...and music which impacts almost everyone. I may find Neruda extraordinarily moving, but clearly he's not to everyone's taste.
Stunned me the first time I heard it. Of the 3000 some comments, there's one which says, "I have been on this earth for 5 decades and never in my life has my body responded to a piece of music like this." Why is that? How is that? But perhaps it won't have that effect upon you?
Questions like this remind me of C.S. Lewis' famous line: "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” Perhaps music gives us that glimpse?
Or, as Mark Helprin, the novelist put it, "If it weren't for music, I would think that love is mortal."
Taylor Swift's new album is called The Tortured Poets' Department. As a fan, my money is on the tortured poets, especially if we are talking a hundred years.
Great discussion. Makes me want to rewatch Score: A Film Music Documentary Amazon link for anyone curious about it. https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/B074187ZVM/ref=atv_hm_vid_7_c_B8g7Qw_1_5
Mendhilssohn revived JS Bach, who otherwise may have been forgotten. Johnny Cash went from popular, to almost forgotten, to hugely popular cross-audience. Documentaries like "Summer of Soul" and "Get Back" made artists more popular to new audiences.
The hard part of answering this question is not just the quality of music, but predicting advancements in technology. In a few years we'll be enjoying hologram concerts from dead artists in our living room. 100 years from now we may have such a huge percentage of centenarians that classical, jazz, & folk might be dominant. As popular as Taylor is among her dedicated fans, I think she needs to evolve beyond her current type of pop songs and appeal to a larger audience to be widely listened to 100 years from now.
Fascinating topic.
But I don't think it's the 'intellectuality' of the music which makes it timeless -- though we may interpret it intellectually -- rather it's the transcendent nature of the music itself (of whatever genre) which allows it to rise above the sound & rhythm...to escape the topicality which inevitably impacts the artist and the way the instruments are played, the way the music is composed, the ways in which the lyrics are written....and to make a statement of Truth which stands in a kind of splendid isolation, distinct and apart from any number of pieces which might otherwise appear similar.
That kind of music speaks to us and very probably will always speak to us because it is in its nature to do so. The artist himself may be unable to exactly articulate why or how this happens....let alone replicate on a future recording...but quite clearly it does happen. And it happens in particular with music because great & transcendent music lacks the inherent distractions which accompany almost all other forms of art. Poetry, perhaps, comes close in its pared down elegance:
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Or...
I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
It doesn't matter how often I read that; it's always new; it always pierces.
Music (great, transcendent music) the same....but by nature it's even more impossible to describe, if only because we don't intellectually encounter it, we do so emotionally, with our bodies, our skin, our souls.
There's a micro-genre on YouTube: people listening, for the first time, to Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma. Within seconds, it brings them to tears (almost without exception). They don't know the composer... they don't know Pavarotti...they don't know Opera...and they don't know the language...and yet the tears stream down their faces. Why is that? Why do we, sitting at home, hearing it for maybe the 500th time, have the same reaction?
Puccini's Turandot is 100 years old. I'm sure 500 years from now, people listening to Pavarotti sing Nessun Dorma will still have the same reaction.
I don't think "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" will have that timelessness (though it's already lasted 61 years), except for those for whom mid-20th century Rock is IT.
We must distinguish music we may listen to because we like it still...and music which will be listened to when no one who knew it originally is still here. (For that reason, personally, I believe Rap/HipHop is transient.)
We must also distinguish music which has that effect upon us, idiosyncratically...and music which impacts almost everyone. I may find Neruda extraordinarily moving, but clearly he's not to everyone's taste.
Here's Ludovico Einaudi playing what's called "NeoClassical", a piece titled "Experience". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91sFlP6aa5Q&list=FLKRCX87ruiuOTRDMK9f0qHA&index=233
Stunned me the first time I heard it. Of the 3000 some comments, there's one which says, "I have been on this earth for 5 decades and never in my life has my body responded to a piece of music like this." Why is that? How is that? But perhaps it won't have that effect upon you?
Questions like this remind me of C.S. Lewis' famous line: "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” Perhaps music gives us that glimpse?
Or, as Mark Helprin, the novelist put it, "If it weren't for music, I would think that love is mortal."
Of course Taylor Swift will be remembered 100 years from now. She's basically become the new Jesus.
Taylor Swift's new album is called The Tortured Poets' Department. As a fan, my money is on the tortured poets, especially if we are talking a hundred years.