It’s not uncommon to hear someone say ‘I lost track of time when listening to a song’. We stand in awe of this marvelous attribute that music, though not uniquely but certainly, formidably has.
In this article, we will talk about music’s relationship with order and depth - and how these two hold the secret to slowing down time and making us more present in the moment.
Sound species
The steady beat of the heart or the feet walking on the ground were the first instruments, the first metronomes that would shape how we perceive music and time. Music, in its essence, has always been an attempt to mirror these rhythms.
The earliest instruments, like drums and flutes, were created to mimic the sounds of nature, to harmonize with the world rather than impose a rigid structure upon it. As more instruments were developed to express the former, so did our understanding of the latter.
For Pythagoras, known not only for his contributions to mathematics but also for the development of the Pythagorean music scale, music was far more than mere art. It was a science and a way of understanding the universe.
‘There is geometry in the humming of the strings, there is music in the spacing of the spheres’. Each interval—the octave, the fifth, —was not just a musical element but a reflection of cosmic order. Music allowed humans to align themselves with the celestial rhythms, creating harmony between the self and the universe.
On the other hand, stands the Maqam system, a musical tradition developed by Arab mathematicians and musicians. It begins with a grounding rhythm, a foundation akin to the stability of time as we understand it. Yet, as it progresses, it ventures into territories that defy strict temporal boundaries, much like the way our emotions evolve—fluid, unfixed, and deeply personal.
Carl Stumpf, known for the psychology of tone, observed, the Maqam's structure allows for an ‘infinite subtlety of expression’ capturing the fleeting nature of human emotion while the Ancient Greek system offers a structured and predictable relationship between notes.
Aural archetypes
Electronic music, a genre born in the age of machines, embodies a fascinating intersection of these ancient traditions. On the surface, electronic music appears mechanical and time-driven, much like the Pythagorean scale.
Its repetitive beats and precise rhythms seem to reflect the structured, orderly nature of the cosmos. Yet beneath this surface lies a rich tapestry of emotional exploration, a balance between the known and the unknown, the measured and the immeasurable.
When someone is losing themselves in the music, it is actually a misnomer. We think music is not an escape but a return, a way of reconnecting with the natural rhythms of the mind and body.
Electronic music is one example and there are others. In classical music, an adagio, by definition, is to be played slowly and with great expression. An unrushed Bach cello suite is designed to create a space for introspection and emotional depth.
John Cage’s famous 4'33"—four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence—forces the listener to confront the passage of time in its rawest, and unconventional, form.
The Gagaku tradition of Japanese court music offers a musical experience that fosters deceleration. Gagaku, which dates back over a thousand years to the royal palace, is characterized by its slow tempos, long-held notes, and stately, ceremonial feel.
Everything in its right place
In his research, neuroscientist Daniel Levitin has shown that music has a unique ability to synchronize our internal clocks, to bring our scattered thoughts and emotions into harmony. This capacity is what makes it so essential, almost a super power, in a world that often feels fragmented and too fast.
One cannot rush the tempo of an orchestra or change the beats per minute of a DJ set. The most one can do in defiance - is to simply leave those functions.
And with it to pass on an opportunity to observe the slowing down of time.
