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The Greeks considered music as an artistic expression of mathematics; according to Pythagoras, the Sun, the Moon and other planets rotate around the World b & # 39; harmony, and the distance between corresponded celestial bodies with musical intervals: was the great music of spheres. In the Middle Ages, music was one of the arts of the quadrivium, with arithmetic, geometry and astronomy; ie, it was part of the sciences. And still in the sixteenth century, composer named Zarlino said: "Music tackle noise numbers". So until yesterday, this art was considered an essential element of the universe, rigorous knowledge and & # 39; priority for life. But later, increasingly society focused on the utilitarian and technological, non-scientific field, was forecasting music (and all art, b & # 39; general) more dispensable place, more ornamental , more surrogate, to create such an aberration called "ambient music", noise pollution that enters the ear in the elevator, rooms & # 39; waiting or stores, and allegedly, according to various investigations, serves to provoke certain psychological responses: to buy and consume more, say, or assure f & # 39; moments & # 39; tension as in the dentist, but a friend, the Miguel-Anxo Murado writer, often says that, every time listening & # 39; those firms appear cheerful and foolish-off and landing & # 39; aircraft, for example, hairs are on the point, because they are indicative of & # 39; some danger.
For me music is something essential, the same as reading. Do not know if I live without both. However, there are individuals who, to my absolute fatigue and lack of & # 39; custody, observing this art. The most famous is the great writer Vladimir Nabokov, one of my literary masters. In his autobiographical book beautiful, Habla, the memory states: "The music, feel say, affects me just as arbitrary succession of & # 39; more or less irritating sounds". He continues to run to several other phrases his proverbjali pedantrija, implying that all mankind is to make the mistake that persists to enjoy what annoying noise. Poor Nabokov: perhaps his unfavorable character comes from there, from what brutal failure, than disadvantage. How does tħobbx music, if our whole existence is linked to the primordial rhythm of blood pulses.
I already say, like so many who, when listening & # 39; music, I can not do other things (besides walking or driving), because they concentrate too much on it. Of course, I can not write. The rumanzistista Clara Sánchez said she was working before listening & # 39; her favorite records. "But make it stopped because I realized that I thought I was writing exciting and wonderful pages, where nirrevertihom the day without the soundtrack, I thought they were really bad." S & # 39; is great and wise comment: music is like a drug, kicking and stands us. This brings us, for better and for worse, a parallel state & # 39; reality: it burns and military music brings generations & # 39; Young with a smile on their lips; is the romantic music to make you believe in love, which can be obtained serious consequences; or is melanjoloġika music to encourage you under the bed and start to work for three days. Yes, music can & # 39; manipulating us, but also the beautiful effect makes bigger and better than we are. Pythagoras was right: those sounds sublime join us with the universe and look at our poor individuality. How many times have I felt on the verge of discovering the secret of life while listening to & # 39; tract especially emotional. And many scenes from my novels come from bright knots occurred to me while he was in & # 39; konċert. The music is essentially human essence, in short, it has all the ingredients & # 39; what we are: beauty, violence, serenity, joy, pain, feeling. Our last moment will be accompanied by a final heart.
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