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.
Kad su me pitali da održim ovaj govor za TED, zagrcnuo sam se, jer, znate, moj otac se zvao Ted i veliki deo svog života, posebno moj muzički život, je u stvari razgovor koji još uvek vodim sa njim, ili neki deo mene koji je njegov nastavak.
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 je bio Njujorčanin, čovek pozorišta, samouki ilustrator i muzičar. Nije znao da čita note i imao je veoma oštećen sluh. Ipak, on je bio moj najveći učitelj. Čak i kroz škripu njegovih slušnih pomagala, njegovo razumevanje muzike je bilo suštinsko.
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)
Za njega, nije bilo pitanje kuda muzika ide, već o čemu ona svedoči i kuda može da te odvede. Napravio je sliku ovog iskustva, koju je nazvao "U carstvu muzike." Ted je svaki dan ulazio u ovo carstvo improvizujući u Tin Pen Eli stilu kao što je ovo. (Muzika)
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."
Ali bio je oštar kad se radilo o muzici. Rekao je: "Samo su dve stvari bitne u muzici: šta i kako. Ta stvar kod klasične muzike to šta i kako, to je neiscrpno."
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.
Takva je bila njegova strast prema muzici. Oba moja roditelja su je zaista voleli. Nisu znali mnogo o njoj, ali su mi pružili mogućnost da je otkrijem zajedno sa njima. Nadahnut tom uspomenom, želim da pokušam da je dam što većem broju ljudi, da je prenesem kroz sva sredstva. Kako ljudi primaju ovu muziku, kako ona dolazi u njihove živote, zaista me očarava.
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?
Jednog dana u Njujorku, bio sam na ulici i video sam neke klince kako igraju bezbol između tremova, automobila i hidranata. Snažni, lenji dečko je pošao da lupi palicom, zamahnuo i zaista pogodio. Sekund je gledao loptu kako leti, a onda počeo: "Da da da ra ta ta. Da dada dadadada." I optrčao je oko baze. Pomislio sam, zamisli. Kako li se ova austrijska aristokratska zabavna muzika iz 18 veka pretvorila u ovo pobedničko likovanje njujorškog klinca? Kako je to preneto? Kako je on čuo Mocarta?
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.
Kad se radi o klasičnoj muzici, ima veoma mnogo toga da se prenese, mnogo više od Mocarta, Betovena ili Čajkovskog. Jer klasična muzika je neprekinuta živa tradicija stara preko 1000 godina. I svaka od ovih godina je imala nešto jedinstveno i snažno da nam kaže o tome kako je to biti živ.
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.
Sirovi materijal toga je, svakako, svakodnevna muzika. To su sve himne, plesovi i balade i marševi. Ali ono što klasična muzika čini je pročišćavanje sve ove muzike, da bi ih sabrala u njihovu apsolutnu suštinu i iz te suštine stvorila nov jezik, jezik koji govori odlučno i sa ljubavlju o tome ko smo zaista. To je jezik koji se još uvek razvija.
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.
Kroz vekove on se razvio u velika dela na koja uvek mislimo, kao što su koncerti i simfonije, ali čak i najambicioznije remek delo može imati svoju osnovnu misiju da te odnese do nežnog i ličnog momenta -- kao ovaj iz Betovenovog violinskog koncerta. (Muzika) To je tako jednostavno, tako evocirajuće. Izgleda da je jako mnogo emocija u njemu. Ipak, svakako, kao i sva muzika, ova u osnovi nije ni o čemu. Ona je samo dizajn tonova i tišine i trajanja.
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.
A visina tonova, note, kao što znate, su samo vibracije. One su mesta u zvučnom spektru. Bez obzira da li ih zovemo 440 po sekundi, A, ili 3 729, sniženo H -- verujte, tačno je -- one su fenomen. Ali način na koji reagujemo na različite kombinacije ovih fenomena je kompleksan i emotivan i ne potpuno razumljiv. Način na koji reagujemo na njih se radikalno promenio kroz vekove, kao i naše sklonosti.
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)
Tako na primer, u 11. veku, ljudi su voleli komade koji su se ovako završavali. (Muzika) U 17. veku, bilo je više ovako. (Muzika) U 21. veku... (Muzika)
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.
Vaše uši 21. veka su sasvim srećne sa ovakvim poslednjim akordom, čak iako bi vas, ne tako davno, zbunjivao i ometao ili terao neke od vas da istrče iz sobe. Razlog zašto to volite je što ste nasledili, svesno ili nesvesno, promene stare vekovima u muzičkoj teoriji, praksi i modi.
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)
U klasičnoj muzici mi možemo da pratimo ove promene vrlo precizno, zbog muzičkog moćnog, tihog pratioca, načina na koji se prenosio: notnog zapisa. Impuls da se zapiše ili da kažem preciznije, da se kodira muzika postoji veoma dugo. U 200. pre nove ere, čovek koji se zvako Sekulos je zapisao ovu pesmu za svoju pokojnu ženu i uklesao je na njen spomenik u grčkom notnom sistemu. (Muzika)
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.
Hiljadu godina kasnije, želja da se pravi notni zapis je dobila potpuno drugu formu. Možete videti kako se to desilo, u ovim izvodima hrišćanske mise "Puer Natus est nobis", "Dete nam se rodilo". (Muzika) U 10. veku, koristile su se kukice samo da naznače generalni oblik melodije. U 12. veku, postojala je linija, kao linija muzičkog horizonta, da bi bolje prikazala visinu tona.
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.
Potom u 13. veku, više linija i novih oblika nota su potpuno tačno prikazali melodiju, to je vodilo do notnog zapisa koji danas imamo. Notni zapis nije samo preneo muziku, već je potpuno promenio njene prioritete, jer je omogućio muzičarima da zamisle muziku u mnogo široj razmeri.
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.
Inspirisani pokreti improvizacije se mogu snimiti, sačuvati, razmatrati, menjati raspored, praviti složene kompozicije. Od ovog momenta, klasična muzika je postala ono što u stvari i jeste, dijalog između dve moćne strane naše prirode: instinkta i inteligencije.
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.
U ovoj tački počinje stvarna razlika između umetnosti improvizacije i umetnosti kompozicije. Improvizator oseća i svira sledeći interesantan ton, ali kompozitor razmatra sve moguće tonove, testira ih, određuje glavne tonove, dok ne vidi kako oni mogu dati moćnu i skladnu, najinteresantniju i najtrajniju kompoziciju. Neki od najvećih kompozitora, kao Bah, su imali kombinacije ove dve stvari. Bah je bio veliki improvizator sa umom šahovskog šampiona. Mocart takođe.
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)
Ali svaki muzičar postiže različit balans između vere i razloga, instinkta i inteligencije. Svaki muzički period je imao različite prioritete, različite stvari da prenese, različite "šta" i "kako". Prvih osam vekova ove tradicije, veliko "šta" je bilo da se slavi bog. Do 15. veka, muzika koja se zapisivala pokušavala je da oslika božju volju kao što se može videti u dizajnu noćnog neba. "Kako" je bio stil nazvan polifonija, muzika mnogo nezavisnih glasova koji su sugerisali način na koji se pomeraju planete u Ptolomejevom geocentričnom svemiru. Ovo je bila prava muzika sfera. (Muzika)
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!
Ovo je vrsta muzike koju bi Leonardo da Vinči poznavao. Verovatno je njeno ogromno intelektualno savršenstvo i smirenost značilo da se nešto novo mora desiti -- nov radikalan pokret, koji se i desio 1600. god. (Muzika) Pevač: Oh, gorki udarac! O, zla, surova sudbino! Oh, zle zvezde! Oh, pohlepni raju!
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: Ovo je, svakako, bilo rođenje opere i njen razvoj je postavio muziku na radikalan novi pravac. Šta -- sada ne oslikava božju volju, već opisuje previranje emocija čoveka. A "kako" je bila melodija, koja je slagala tonove da formira akorde.
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.
Akordi su bili u stanju da reprezentuju neverovantne šarolikosti emocija. Osnovni akordi su oni koje i danas imamo, trozvuci, ili dur, za koji mislimo da je srećan ili mol, koji doživljavamo kao tužan. Koja je stvarna razlika ova dva akorda? To su ova dva tona u sredini. To je ili osnovno E, 659 vibracija u sekundi ili sniženo E, na 622. Velika razlika između ljudske sreće i tuge? 37 prokletih vibracija.
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.
Ono što ovde vidimo je da postoji ogroman suptilan potencijal predstavljanja ljudskih emocija. Kad je čovek počeo da više razumeva svoju kompleksnu i ambivalentnu prirodu, harmonija je postala složenija da bi to opisala. Ispada da je bila sposobna da objasni emocije više nego reči.
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.
Sa ovom mogućnošću, klasična muzika se vrlo zamahala. To je vreme kad su velike forme počele da nastaju. Osetio se i efekat tehnologije, jer je štampanje stavilo muziku, notne zapise, u ruke izvođača svuda. Novi i poboljšani instrumenti su učinili mogućom eru virtuoza. To je vreme kad su velike forme nastale -- simfonije, sonate, koncerti.
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)
U ovim velikim vremenskim tekovinama, kompozitori kao Betoven su ušli u suštinu života. Dela kao Peta Betovenova simfonija su u osnovi svedočila kako je njemu bilo moguće da ide od tuge i besa, u periodu od pola sata, precizno korak po korak svog puta, do momenta kada je mogao preći u radost. (Muzika)
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.
Ispostavilo se da se simfonija može korisititi za mnogo kompleksnije stvari, kao vezivanje za kulturu, za nacionalizam ili potrebu za slobodom ili granice senzualnosti. Ali kojim god pravcem je muzika išla, jedna stvar je doskora uvek bila ista, a to je da kad su muzičari prestali da sviraju, muzika je stala.
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?
To je momenat koji me jako fascinira. Nalazim da je suštinski. Šta se dešava kad muzika stane? Kuda ide? Šta je ostalo? Šta ostaje publici na kraju izvođenja? Da li je to melodija ili ritam ili raspoloženje ili gledište? I kako to može promeniti njihove živote?
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.
Za mene, to je intimna, lična strana muzike. To je deo koji prenosi. To je deo muzike "zašto". Za mene je to najsuštinskiji deo od svega. Uglavnom je to odnos dve osobe, profesor-student, izvođač-publika, i negde oko 1880. dolazi ova nova tehnologija koja je prvo mehanički, zatim analogno, pa digitalno kreirala nov čudesan način prenosa stvari, mada bezličan. Ljudi su sad mogli da čuju muziku non stop, čak i kad nije bilo neophodno da sviraju instrument, čitaju muziku ili čak idu na 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.
Tehnologija je demokratizovala muziku čineći sve dostupnim. Ona je lansirala kulturnu revoluciju u kojoj su umetnici kao Karuzo i Besi Smit bili u istoj ravni. Tehnologija je gurnula kompozitore do ogromnih ekstrema, koristeći kompjutere i sintisajzere da kreiraju dela neverovatne intelektualne složenosti van mogućnosti izvođača i publike.
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.
U isto vreme je tehnologija, preuzimajući ulogu nota, poremetila ravnotežu između instinkta i inteligencije mnogo više prema instinktivnoj strani. Kultura u kojoj sad živimo preplavljena je muzikom improvizacije koja je iseckana, razbacana, slojevita i bog zna, distribuirana i prodavana. Šta je dugoročna posledica ovog po nas ili muziku? Niko ne zna.
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?
Pitanje ostaje: šta se dešava kad muzika stane? Šta ostaje ljudima? Sad kad imamo neograničen pristup muzici, šta ostaje sa nama?
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)
Dozvolite mi da vam ispričam priču o tome šta mislim pod "zaista ostaje sa nama". Bio sam u poseti rođaku u staračkom domu i zapazio sam drhtavog starog čoveka koji je išao preko sobe u hodalici. Prišao je pianinu koji je tu bio, ljuljajući se pokušao da odsvira nešto kao ovo. (Muzika)
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?
Rekao je nešto kao: "Ja... dečak... simfonija... Betoven." Odjednom sam se setio, rekao sam: "Prijatelju, da li ti pokušavaš da odviraš ovo?" (Muzika) On je rekao: "Da, da. Bio sam dečak. Simfonija: Isak Štern, koncert, čuo sam ga." Pomislio sam, gospode, koliko mnogo mora ova muzika da znači ovom čoveku, da je ustao iz kreveta, prešao sobu, da bi se setio uspomene na ovu muziku koja mu, pošto sve u njegovom životu nestaje, još uvek znači tako mnogo?
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.
To je razlog zašto svako izvođenje shvatam vrlo ozbiljno, zašto mi mnogo znači. Nikad ne znam ko bi mogao biti tu, ko će to da upija i šta će to značiti nekom u njegovom životu.
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.
Sad sam uzbuđen jer postoji više šansi nego ikad pre da se ova muzika podeli. To je ono što podstiče moj interes u projektima kao što je TV serija "Zadržati kompoziciju" sa Simfonijom San Franciska koja govori o pričama iza muzike, i rad sa mladim muzičarima Nove svetske simfonije na projektima koji istražuju potencijal novih centara za izvođenje za zabavu i obrazovanje.
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.
Svakako, Nova svetska simfonija vodi do YouTube simfonije i projekata na internetu koji dolaze do muzičara i publike po celom svetu. Uzbudljiva stvar kod ovog je da je to samo prototip. Tu ima uloga za mnoge ljude -- profesore, roditelje, izvođače -- da zajedno istražuju. Svakako, veliki događaji privlače mnogo pažnje, ali ono što je važno je šta se zaista dešava svaki dan. Trebaju nam vaša gledišta, vaša radoznalost, vaši glasovi.
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.
Sad su mi uzbudljivi susreti sa ljudima koji su stoperi, šefovi, programeri, taksisti, ljudi za koje nikad ne bih pomislio da vole muziku i koji je prenose. Ne treba da brinete da li išta znate. Ako ste radoznali, ako imate sposobnosti da se zapitate, ako ste živi, znate sve što treba. Možete početi bilo gde. Pomalo lutajte. Pratite tragove. Izgubite se. Iznenadite se, inspirišite, zabavite se. Sva ta "šta", sva ta "kako" su tu negde, čekaju da otkrijete njihovo "zašto", da zaronite i prenesete ih.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)