Well when I was asked to do this TEDTalk, I was really chuckled, because, you see, my father's name was Ted, and much of my life, especially my musical life, is really a talk that I'm still having with him, or the part of me that he continues to be.
Kur mu kerkua te bej kete TEDTalk, une qesha sepse, e shihni, emri i babait tim ishte Ted, dhe nje pjese e madhe e jetes time, sidomos jeta muzikore, eshte nje bisede qe une ende e bej me te, ose nje pjese e imja qe ai vazhdon te jete.
Now Ted was a New Yorker, an all-around theater guy, and he was a self-taught illustrator and musician. He didn't read a note, and he was profoundly hearing impaired. Yet, he was my greatest teacher. Because even through the squeaks of his hearing aids, his understanding of music was profound.
Ted ishte nga New York, nje njeri i teatrit, ai ishte nje ilustrator dhe muzikant autodidakt. Ai nuk lexonte dot notat, dhe nuk degjonte pothuajse fare. Por prape, ai ishte mesuesi im me i mire. Sepse megjithe zhurmen qe i bente aparati i degjimit, te kuptuarit e muzikes ishte e thelle.
And for him, it wasn't so much the way the music goes as about what it witnesses and where it can take you. And he did a painting of this experience, which he called "In the Realm of Music." Now Ted entered this realm every day by improvising in a sort of Tin Pan Alley style like this. (Music)
Dhe per te, nuk ishte shume se si shkonte muzika sesa ajo qe deshmonte ajo dhe ku mund t'iu coje. Ai beri nje pikture mbi eksperiencen e tij, te cilen e quajti "Ne Mbreterine e Muzikes." Ted hynte ne kete fushe cdo dite duke improvizuar ne nje lloj te stilit Tin Pan Alley si ky. (Muzike)
But he was tough when it came to music. He said, "There are only two things that matter in music: what and how. And the thing about classical music, that what and how, it's inexhaustible."
Por ai ishte i veshtire kur flitej per muzike. Ai thoshte, "Egzistojne vetem dy gjera qe kane rendesi ne muzike" cfare dhe si. Dhe gjeja per muziken klasike, ajo cka dhe si, eshte e palodhshme."
That was his passion for the music. Both my parents really loved it. They didn't know all that much about it, but they gave me the opportunity to discover it together with them. And I think inspired by that memory, it's been my desire to try and bring it to as many other people as I can, sort of pass it on through whatever means. And how people get this music, how it comes into their lives, really fascinates me.
Ai ishte pasioni i tij per muziken. Te dy prinderit e mi e donin ate. Ata nuk dinin shum per te, por ata me dhane mundesin qe ta zbuloj ate bashke me ta. Dhe une mendoj i frymezuar nga ajo kujtese, ishte deshira ime qe te provoj ta sjell te sa me shume njerez qe te mundem, dhe duke e pasuar me cdo mjet te mundshem. Dhe se si njerezit bien ne kontakt me kete muzike, si hyn ne jetet e tyre, kjo me cudit vertet mua.
One day in New York, I was on the street and I saw some kids playing baseball between stoops and cars and fire hydrants. And a tough, slouchy kid got up to bat, and he took a swing and really connected. And he watched the ball fly for a second, and then he went, "Dah dadaratatatah. Brah dada dadadadah." And he ran around the bases. And I thought, go figure. How did this piece of 18th century Austrian aristocratic entertainment turn into the victory crow of this New York kid? How was that passed on? How did he get to hear Mozart?
Nje dite ne Nju Jork, une isha ne rruge dhe pashe disa femije duke luajtur bejsboll afer shtyllave, makinave e hidranteve. Nje djale i forte ne pozicionin e gjuajtesit ngriti shkopin, mori shenje dhe goditi topin. Dhe ai pa se si topi fluturoi per nje sekond, the pastaj ai filloi, "Dah dadaratatatah. Brah dada dadadadah." Dhe ai vrapoi rreth bazave. Dhe une thashe, mendoje tani. Si mundi qe kjo cope e argetimit aristokrat autriak e shekullit 18 te kthehet ne nje thirrje fitoreje te ketij femije njujorkez? Si ishte transmetuar ajo? Si mundi ai te degjonte Mozartin?
Well when it comes to classical music, there's an awful lot to pass on, much more than Mozart, Beethoven or Tchiakovsky. Because classical music is an unbroken living tradition that goes back over 1,000 years. And every one of those years has had something unique and powerful to say to us about what it's like to be alive.
Pra kur vjen te muzika klasike, ka shume per te transmetuar, shume me teper sesa Mozarti, Beethoveni apo Tchiakovsky. Sepse muzika klasike eshte nje tradite e pathyshme jetesore e krijuar 1,000 me pare. Dhe cdo vit nga ato ka pasur dicka unike dhe te fuqishme per te na thene se cdo te thote te jetosh.
Now the raw material of it, of course, is just the music of everyday life. It's all the anthems and dance crazes and ballads and marches. But what classical music does is to distill all of these musics down, to condense them to their absolute essence, and from that essence create a new language, a language that speaks very lovingly and unflinchingly about who we really are. It's a language that's still evolving.
Materiali bazik, sigurisht, eshte vetem muzika e jetes se perditshme. Jane te gjitha himnet dhe vallzimet e cmendura balladat dhe marshet. Por ajo qe ben muzika klasike eshte qe i distilon te gjitha keto lloje te muzikes, per ti kondensuar ato te esenca e tyre e plote, dhe nga ajo esence to formoje nje gjuhe te re, nje gjuhe qe flet shume bukur dhe paster se kush jemi ne te vertete. Eshte nje gjuhe e cila eshte ende duke u zhvilluar.
Now over the centuries it grew into the big pieces we always think of, like concertos and symphonies, but even the most ambitious masterpiece can have as its central mission to bring you back to a fragile and personal moment -- like this one from the Beethoven Violin Concerto. (Music) It's so simple, so evocative. So many emotions seem to be inside of it. Yet, of course, like all music, it's essentially not about anything. It's just a design of pitches and silence and time.
Gjate shekujve jane krijuar pjese te medha qe ne njohim, si koncerte dhe simfoni, por bile edhe kryevepra me ambicioze mund te kete si mision qendror qe t'iu coje prapa ne nje moment delikat dhe personal -- si kjo nga Koncerti per Violine i Beethoven. (Muzike) Eshte kaq e thjeshte, kaq ndjellese. Kaq shume emocione shihen brenda saj. Por sigurisht, si te gjitha muzikat, nuk eshte per ndonje gje. Eshte vetem nje dizajn i toneve dhe qetesise dhe kohes.
And the pitches, the notes, as you know, are just vibrations. They're locations in the spectrum of sound. And whether we call them 440 per second, A, or 3,729, B flat -- trust me, that's right -- they're just phenomena. But the way we react to different combinations of these phenomena is complex and emotional and not totally understood. And the way we react to them has changed radically over the centuries, as have our preferences for them.
Dhe tonet, notat sic e dini jane vetem vibrime. Ato jane lokacione ne spekter te tingullit. Dhe nese i quajme ato 440 per second, A, apo 3,729, B e rrafshet -- me besoni, keshtu eshte-- ato jane vetem fenomene. Por menyra se si ne reagojme te kombinimet e ndryshme te ketyre fenomeneve eshte komplekse dhe emocionale dhe nuk kuptohet shume mire. Dhe menyra se si ne reagojme te ato ka ndryshuar shume pergjate shekujve, sic kan ndryshuar edhe pelqimet tona per to.
So for example, in the 11th century, people liked pieces that ended like this. (Music) And in the 17th century, it was more like this. (Music) And in the 21st century ... (Music)
Si pershembull, ne shekullin e 11, njerezit pelqenin pjese qe perfundonin keshtu. (Muzike) Dhe ne shekullin 17, ishte me shume keshtu. (Muzike) Dhe ne shekullin e 21... (Muzike)
Now your 21st century ears are quite happy with this last chord, even though a while back it would have puzzled or annoyed you or sent some of you running from the room. And the reason you like it is because you've inherited, whether you knew it or not, centuries-worth of changes in musical theory, practice and fashion.
Tani veshet tuaj te shekullit 21 jane shume te kenaqur me kordin e fundit, edhe pse pak me pare nuk ju ka pelqyer apo i ka bere disa nga ju te dalin nga salla. Dhe arsye pse ju pelqen eshte sepse ju keni trasheguar, e dinit apo jo, ndryshime shekullore ne teori muzikore, praktike dhe mode.
And in classical music we can follow these changes very, very accurately because of the music's powerful silent partner, the way it's been passed on: notation. Now the impulse to notate, or, more exactly I should say, encode music has been with us for a very long time. In 200 B.C., a man named Sekulos wrote this song for his departed wife and inscribed it on her gravestone in the notational system of the Greeks. (Music)
Dhe ne muziken klasike ne mund te ndjekim keto ndryshime shume, shume mire per shkak te shokut te fuqishem dhe te qete te muzikes, menyra sesi ka vazhduar: notimi. Tani impulsi per te notuar, apo, me mire te themi, shifroj muziken ka qene me ne per nje kohe te gjate. Ne 200 P.J.K, nje njeri me emrin Sekulos shkroi kete kenge per gruan e tij te vdekur dhe e gdhendi ate ne gurin e varrit ne systemin Grek te notimit. (Muzike)
And a thousand years later, this impulse to notate took an entirely different form. And you can see how this happened in these excerpts from the Christmas mass "Puer Natus est nobis," "For Us is Born." (Music) In the 10th century, little squiggles were used just to indicate the general shape of the tune. And in the 12th century, a line was drawn, like a musical horizon line, to better pinpoint the pitch's location.
Dhe njemije vjet me vone, ky impuls per notim mori nje forme shume ndryshe. Dhe ju mund ta shihni se si ndodhi kjo ne kete pjese nga Krishtlindjet "Puer Natus est nobis," "Per Ne Ka Lindur." (Muzike) Ne shekullin 10, valezime te vogla te zerit jane perdorur per te treguar formen gjenerale te melodise. Dhe ne shekullin 12, u vendos nje vije, si nje horizont muzikor, per te treguar me mire pozicionin e tonit.
And then in the 13th century, more lines and new shapes of notes locked in the concept of the tune exactly, and that led to the kind of notation we have today. Well notation not only passed the music on, notating and encoding the music changed its priorities entirely, because it enabled the musicians to imagine music on a much vaster scale.
Dhe pastaj ne shekullin 13, me shume vija dhe forma te notave per te percaktuar saktesisht melodine, dhe kjo coi drejt notimit qe kemi sot. Notimi jo vetem qe transmetoi muziken, notimi dhe kodimi i muzikes ndryshoi prioritetet e tyre teresisht, sepse i lejoi muzikantet per te imagjinuar muziken ne nje shkalle shume me te gjere.
Now inspired moves of improvisation could be recorded, saved, considered, prioritized, made into intricate designs. And from this moment, classical music became what it most essentially is, a dialogue between the two powerful sides of our nature: instinct and intelligence.
Tani levizjet e inspiruara te improvizimit mund te regjistrohen, ruhen, konsiderohen, prioritetizohen, te krijohen projekte me te komplikuara. Dhe nga ky moment, muzika klasike u be ajo qe eshte tani, nje dialog mes dy aneve shume te fuqishme te natyres tone: instinktit dhe intelegjences.
And there began to be a real difference at this point between the art of improvisation and the art of composition. Now an improviser senses and plays the next cool move, but a composer is considering all possible moves, testing them out, prioritizing them out, until he sees how they can form a powerful and coherent design of ultimate and enduring coolness. Now some of the greatest composers, like Bach, were combinations of these two things. Bach was like a great improviser with a mind of a chess master. Mozart was the same way.
Dhe pastaj filloi te kete nje ndryshim te vertete ne kete pike mes artit te improvizimit dhe artit te kompozimit. Tani nje improvizues ndjen dhe luan levizjen tjeter te mire, por kompozitori i konsideron te gjithat levizjet e mundshme, duke i testuar, duke i dhene prioritet, derisa ai formon nje dizajn te fuqishem e koherent me nje stil te forte qe qendron. Tani disa nga kompozitoret me te medhenj, si Bach, ishin kombinime te ketyre dy gjerave. Bach ishte nje improvizues me nje mendje te lojtarit te shahut. Mozarti po ashtu.
But every musician strikes a different balance between faith and reason, instinct and intelligence. And every musical era had different priorities of these things, different things to pass on, different 'whats' and 'hows'. So in the first eight centuries or so of this tradition the big 'what' was to praise God. And by the 1400s, music was being written that tried to mirror God's mind as could be seen in the design of the night sky. The 'how' was a style called polyphony, music of many independently moving voices that suggested the way the planets seemed to move in Ptolemy's geocentric universe. This was truly the music of the spheres. (Music)
Por cdo muzikant ka nje balance ndryshe mes besimit dhe arsyes, instinktit dhe inteligjences. Dhe cdo kohe e muzikes ka prioritetet e ketyre gjerave, gjera te ndryshme per te transmetuar, "cfare" dhe "si" te ndryshme. Pra ne tete shekujt e pare te kesaj tradite "cfare" e madhe ishte lavderimi i Zotit. Dhe deri tek 1400-t, muzika ishte shkruar mundohej te pasqyronte mendjen e Zotit si mund te shihet ne dizajnin e qiellit te nates. The "si" ishte nje stil i quajtur polifoni, muzika e shume zerave te pavarur qe sugjeronte menyren se si leviznin planetet ne universin gjeoqendror te Ptolomeut. Kjo ishte muzika e vertet e sferave. (Muzike)
This is the kind of music that Leonardo DaVinci would have known. And perhaps its tremendous intellectual perfection and serenity meant that something new had to happen -- a radical new move, which in 1600 is what did happen. (Music) Singer: Ah, bitter blow! Ah, wicked, cruel fate! Ah, baleful stars! Ah, avaricious heaven!
Kjo ishte lloji i muzikes qe Leonardo DaVinci do ta kishte njohur. Dhe ndoshta perfeksioni intelektual shume i madh do te thonin se dicka e re do te ndodhte -- nje levizje e re radikale, qe ndodhi ne 1600. (Muzike) Kengetari: Ah, goditje e hidhur! Ah, fat i i lig, i keq! Ah, yje te keqinj! Ah, parajse doreshtrenguar!
MTT: This, of course, was the birth of opera, and its development put music on a radical new course. The what now was not to mirror the mind of God, but to follow the emotion turbulence of man. And the how was harmony, stacking up the pitches to form chords.
MTT: Kjo, sigurisht, ishte lindja e operes, dhe zhvillimi i saj e solli muziken ne nje drejtimin te ri. Dhe cfare nuk ishte me pasqyrja e mendjes se Zotit, por ndjekja e emocionit turbulent te njeriut. Dhe se si ishte harmonia, duke kompozuar tonet per te formuar akordet.
And the chords, it turned out, were capable of representing incredible varieties of emotions. And the basic chords were the ones we still have with us, the triads, either the major one, which we think is happy, or the minor one, which we perceive as sad. But what's the actual difference between these two chords? It's just these two notes in the middle. It's either E natural, and 659 vibrations per second, or E flat, at 622. So the big difference between human happiness and sadness? 37 freakin' vibrations.
Dhe doli se, akordet, ishim ne gjendje te perfaqesonin variante te ndryshme te emocioneve. Kordat bazike ishin ato qe ne ende kemi, triadat, ajo maxhore, qe ne mendojme qe eshte e lumtur, apo minore, qe ne mendojme si jo te lumtur. Por cila eshte ne fakt dallimi midis ketyre akordeve? Jane vetem keto dy nota ne mes. Eshte E natyrale, dhe 659 vibrime per sekond, apo E e rrafshet, te 622. Pra dallimi i madh mes gezimit dhe hidherimit njerezor? 37 vibrime.
So you can see in a system like this there was enormous subtle potential of representing human emotions. And in fact, as man began to understand more his complex and ambivalent nature, harmony grew more complex to reflect it. Turns out it was capable of expressing emotions beyond the ability of words.
Pra ju mund te shihni ne nje sistem si ky eshte nje potencial teper i madh i perfaqesimit te emocioneve njerezore. Dhe ne fakt, kur njeriu fillon te kuptoje me shume natyren e tij komplekse dhe kontradiktore, rriti kompleksin e harmonise per t'a reflektuar ate. Del qe ishte i afte qe te shprehe emocione pertej aftesise se fjaleve.
Now with all this possibility, classical music really took off. It's the time in which the big forms began to arise. And the effects of technology began to be felt also, because printing put music, the scores, the codebooks of music, into the hands of performers everywhere. And new and improved instruments made the age of the virtuoso possible. This is when those big forms arose -- the symphonies, the sonatas, the concertos.
Tani me gjithe kete mundesi, muzika klasike me te vertete lulezoi. Eshte koha kur format e medha filluan to rriten. Dhe efektet e teknologjise filluan te ndjehen po ashtu, sepse printimi mundesoi qe pjeset dhe kodet muzikore te arrijne ne duart e interpretuesve kudo. Dhe instrumente te reja dhe te permiresuara bene te mundur epoken e virtuozve. Kjo eshte kur ato forma te medhaja u rriten -- simfonite, sonatat, koncertet.
And in these big architectures of time, composers like Beethoven could share the insights of a lifetime. A piece like Beethoven's Fifth basically witnessing how it was possible for him to go from sorrow and anger, over the course of a half an hour, step by exacting step of his route, to the moment when he could make it across to joy. (Music)
Dhe ne keto arkitektura te medha te kohes, kompozitoret si Beethoven do te ndanin intuitat jetesore. Nje pjese si E Pesta e Beethovenit eshte nje shembull se si ishte e mundur per te qe te shkonte nga pikellimi dhe zemerimi, per nje kohe gjysme ore, hap pas hapi te rruges se tij, deri te momenti kur ai del te gezimi. (Muzike)
And it turned out the symphony could be used for more complex issues, like gripping ones of culture, such as nationalism or quest for freedom or the frontiers of sensuality. But whatever direction the music took, one thing until recently was always the same, and that was when the musicians stopped playing, the music stopped.
Simfonia mund te perdoret per qellime me komplekse, si rrembime te kultures, si nacionalismi apo kerkesa per liri apo kufijte e ndjeshmerise. Por cfaredo drejtimi qe muzika mori, nje gje deri tanime mbeti e njejte, dhe ajo ishte se kur muzikantet ndaluan se luajturi, muzika ndaloi.
Now this moment so fascinates me. I find it such a profound one. What happens when the music stops? Where does it go? What's left? What sticks with people in the audience at the end of a performance? Is it a melody or a rhythm or a mood or an attitude? And how might that change their lives?
Tani ky moment me mallengjen mua. Une mendoj se eshte nje moment i thelle. Cfare ndodh kur muzika ndalon? Ku shkon ajo? Cfare mbetet? Cfare mbetet me publikun ne fund te nje performance? A eshte nje melodi apo ritem nje gjendje shpirterore apo nje qendrim? Dhe si mundet kjo ti ndryshoje jeten atyre?
To me this is the intimate, personal side of music. It's the passing on part. It's the 'why' part of it. And to me that's the most essential of all. Mostly it's been a person-to-person thing, a teacher-student, performer-audience thing, and then around 1880 came this new technology that first mechanically then through analogs then digitally created a new and miraculous way of passing things on, albeit an impersonal one. People could now hear music all the time, even though it wasn't necessary for them to play an instrument, read music or even go to concerts.
Per mua kjo eshte nje ane personale e muzikes. Eshte pjesa e transmetimit. Eshte pjesa "pse" e saj. Dhe per mua kjo eshte me e rendesishme se tjerat. Me se shumti ka qene nje gje individuale, mesues-nxenes, performues-degjues, dhe pastaj rreth 1880 erdhi kjo teknologji e re qe se pari mekanikisht, pastaj analoge dhe me pas dixhitale formoi nje menyre te re te kalimit te gjerave, edhe pse jopersonale. Njerezit tani mund te degjojne muzike gjate gjithe kohes, edhe kur nuk eshte e nevojshme per ta te luajne nje instrument, te lexojne muzike apo edhe te shkojne ne koncerte.
And technology democratized music by making everything available. It spearheaded a cultural revolution in which artists like Caruso and Bessie Smith were on the same footing. And technology pushed composers to tremendous extremes, using computers and synthesizers to create works of intellectually impenetrable complexity beyond the means of performers and audiences.
Dhe teknologjia e beri muziken demokratike duke bere cdo gje te disponueshme. Ajo promovoi nje revolucion kulturor ku artistet si Caruso dhe Bessie Smith ishin ne te njejten piano. Dhe teknologjia shtyu kompozitoret ne ekstrem, duke perdorur kompjuteret dhe sintetizatoret per te krijuar pune te nje kompleksitet intelektualisht te papershkueshem pertej kuptimeve te interpretuesve dhe degjuesve.
At the same time technology, by taking over the role that notation had always played, shifted the balance within music between instinct and intelligence way over to the instinctive side. The culture in which we live now is awash with music of improvisation that's been sliced, diced, layered and, God knows, distributed and sold. What's the long-term effect of this on us or on music? Nobody knows.
Ne te njejten kohe, teknologjia, duke marre rolin qe notimi ka luajtur gjithnje nderroi balancen e muzikes mes instinktit dhe inteligjences, duke iu afruar shume anes instinktive. Kultura ne te cilen jetojme tani eshte e njejte me muziken e improvizimit qe vjen ne shume menyra dhe, Zoti e di, shperndare dhe shitur. Cili eshte efekti afatgjate i kesaj tek ne apo tek muzika? Askush nuk e di.
The question remains: What happens when the music stops? What sticks with people? Now that we have unlimited access to music, what does stick with us?
Pyetja mbete e njejte: Cfare ndodh kur muzika ndalon? Cfare mbetet me njerezit? Tani qe kemi hyrje te pakufizuar te muzika, cfare mbetet me ne?
Well let me show you a story of what I mean by "really sticking with us." I was visiting a cousin of mine in an old age home, and I spied a very shaky old man making his way across the room on a walker. He came over to a piano that was there, and he balanced himself and began playing something like this. (Music)
Me lini t'iu tregoj nje tregim se cfare dua te them me "ajo qe verte mbetet me ne." Une isha duke vizituar nje kusheri ne nje azil pleqsh, dhe pashe nje njeri shume te vjeter qe dridhej qe eshte duke u mbajtur. Ai erdhi tek piano qe ishte aty, u drejtua veten dhe filloi te luante dicka si kjo. (Muzike)
And he said something like, "Me ... boy ... symphony ... Beethoven." And I suddenly got it, and I said, "Friend, by any chance are you trying to play this?" (Music) And he said, "Yes, yes. I was a little boy. The symphony: Isaac Stern, the concerto, I heard it." And I thought, my God, how much must this music mean to this man that he would get himself out of his bed, across the room to recover the memory of this music that, after everything else in his life is sloughing away, still means so much to him?
Dhe tha dicka si, "Une...djalosh..simfoni...Beethoven." Dhe une papritmas e kuptova, dhe thash, "Shok, mos ndoshta po perpiqeni te luani kete?" (Muzike) Dhe pastaj ai tha, "Po, po. Une isha djale i vogel. Simfonia: Isaac Stern, koncerti, e degjova." Dhe mendova, Zoti im, sa shume kuptim ka kjo muzike tek ky njeri s ai te cohej nga krevati i tij, I dhomes perballe per te rikuperuar memorjen e kesaj muzike ate, pas cdo gjeje qe po iken nga jeta e tij, prap ka kaq rendesi per te?
Well, that's why I take every performance so seriously, why it matters to me so much. I never know who might be there, who might be absorbing it and what will happen to it in their life.
Ja pse une e mar cdo performance kaq seriozisht, pse do te thote kaq shume per mua. Une nuk e dija se kush mund te ishte aty, kush mund te jete duke e absorbuar dhe cfare do te ndodhe ne jeten e tyre.
But now I'm excited that there's more chance than ever before possible of sharing this music. That's what drives my interest in projects like the TV series "Keeping Score" with the San Francisco Symphony that looks at the backstories of music, and working with the young musicians at the New World Symphony on projects that explore the potential of the new performing arts centers for both entertainment and education.
Por tani une jam i eksituar qe ka shanse me shume se kurre per te ndare kete muzike. Kjo eshte pse une jam i interesuar ne projekte si ne seriet televizore "Duke mbajtur piket" me simfonine e San Francisco qe sheh tek sfondet e muzikes, dhe duke punuar me muzikantet e rinj te simfonia e New World ne projekte qe eksplorojne potencialin e qendrave te reja te performimit per argetimin dhe edukimin.
And of course, the New World Symphony led to the YouTube Symphony and projects on the internet that reach out to musicians and audiences all over the world. And the exciting thing is all this is just a prototype. There's just a role here for so many people -- teachers, parents, performers -- to be explorers together. Sure, the big events attract a lot of attention, but what really matters is what goes on every single day. We need your perspectives, your curiosity, your voices.
Dhe sigurisht, simfonia e New World krijoi simfonine YouTube dhe projektet ne internet qe mberrin deri tek muzikantet dhe degjuesit nga e gjithe bota. Dhe gjeja eksituese eshte se e gjithe kjo eshte nje prototip. Aty eshte nje rol per shume njerez -- mesues, prind, performues -- qe te jene eksplorues se bashku. Sigurisht, ngjarjet e medha marrin shume vemendje, por ajo qe ka rendesi eshte cfare ndodh cdo dite. Na duhet perspektiva, kurioziteti dhe zeri juaj.
And it excites me now to meet people who are hikers, chefs, code writers, taxi drivers, people I never would have guessed who loved the music and who are passing it on. You don't need to worry about knowing anything. If you're curious, if you have a capacity for wonder, if you're alive, you know all that you need to know. You can start anywhere. Ramble a bit. Follow traces. Get lost. Be surprised, amused inspired. All that 'what', all that 'how' is out there waiting for you to discover its 'why', to dive in and pass it on.
Dhe me eksiton shume kur takoj njerez qe jane eskursioniste, kuzhiniere, programues, shofere taksish, njerez qe nuk do te besoja kurre se pelqenin muziken dhe qe po e transmetonin ate te te tjeret. Ju nuk duhet te shqetesoheni per te ditur cdo gje. Nese jeni kurioz, nese keni kapacitet per tu mrekulluar, nese jeni gjalle, ju dini cdo gje qe duhet te dini. Ju mund te filloni gjithekund. Bridhni pakez. Ndiqni gjurmet. Humbni. Jini te habitur dhe te inspiruar. E gjithe ajo "Cka", e gjithe ajo "Si" eshte atje jashte duke ju pritur ju per te zbuluar "pse", per tu zhytur dhe per ta percjelle ate.
Thank you.
Ju faleminderit.
(Applause)
(Duartrokitje) Done by: Yll Sutaj