I’d like to start with a quote. It concerns the fate of humanity, so stay with me. “As Jung has said in his introduction to ‘The Psychology of the Child Archetype’ (par 267):
‘…we can never legitimately cut loose from our archetypal foundations unless we are prepared to pay the price of a neurosis, any more than we can rid ourselves of our body and its organs without committing suicide. If we cannot deny the archetypes or otherwise neutralize them, we are confronted, at every new stage in the differentiation of consciousness to which civilization attains, with the task of finding a new interpretation appropriate to this stage, in order to connect the life of the past that still exists in us with the life of the present, which threatens to slip away from it. If this link-up does not take place, a kind of rootless consciousness which succumbs helplessly to all manner of suggestions, and, in practice, is susceptible to psychic epidemics’” (Kluger 1991: 18).

I Got a Fever – The Only Prescription: More Archetypes

According to Jung, mythological and archetypal conceptualizations are vital to a socioculture’s wellbeing. Without the music of these ancient chords of human understanding, people will certainly suffer “neurosis…rootless consciousness which succumbs helplessly to all manner of suggestions, and…psychic epidemics.” I would argue that in our modern society this definitely has become the case. Western culture has become a victim of exactly what Jung was describing in the form of consumerism, depression, hyper competition, a complacency towards those around us that verges on disdain, an irrational fear of violence and disease that invokes real violence and disease, and any number of conditions that make us feel as though this is “the end of the world as we know it.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that point of view. Since the dawn of civilization people have believed that the destruction of humanity was imminent and that theirs was certainly the worst of days. But they also believed in some kind of greater order; that there was purpose to the cosmos and that salvation was possible. In the past, religion and ritual belief offered foundational mythologies in great quantities. And, I would argue, they still do for many people. But there are a great many of us who cannot or will not subscribe to the belief systems of the world’s major religions, not because there is anything inherently wrong with them – each is beautiful and functional in its own way – nor with the people who do follow them, but because they do not have accord with the world as many of us understand it.

Interestingly, though, all of these religions and ritual beliefs do contain what might be called “archetypal” elements: The Hero or Savior, transformation from a lesser form to a greater form, the vital presence of humanity in the cosmos, a journey to better place, the ability to simply go on, the conquering of life over death, and so forth. All of these archetypes are echoed in the annuls of myth throughout time and place. They seem to be vital to the human condition and humanity’s understanding of the world. In some way, these archetypal formulae help us to survive. Without them, we will and do, as Jung explained earlier, self-destruct. So if we are not getting mythic archetypes from religion, where are we to turn? Traditionally, that answer has been music. Throughout human history, musicians have been the myth tellers. For instance, Homer, the ancient Greek who is credited with The Iliad and The Odyssey, was a bard – a singing story teller – who sang to his society the myths they needed to hear. In medieval times, bards and minstrels would compose and recount epics that told of the ancient foundations of their peoples and lands; the narratives that provided their audience with their very frameworks of identity. William Shakespeare was likewise known as a bard, with his melodic verse and plotlines. There is no doubt that he spoke deeply to the people of his day and even ours. As I mentioned in my first article, “Music Makes Us Human,” the singing Slavic bards relay incredibly long epic tales that describe the first heroes and adventures of their people. These foundational tales sustain the people who believe in them; providing ideological substance and models for positive and productive behaviour. It dawned on me today as I was driving home from work with some Poison narrating my journey that music is, by its nature, mythological. It provides us with narrative and emotional models by which to understand and steer our lives. Everyone experiences this kind of thing when they listen to some angsty ballad after breaking up with a significant other, or some delightful ditty as they party down in the summer sun. Either way, we use music to illuminate our lives and the world we live in. But, more than that, music can actually speak to our deep-seeded beliefs. Music can truly contain the elemental myths of society.

Gods, Ghosts, and Guitars

I suppose the most difficult thing about composing musical myths is knowing what the myths of our society are. In this day and age, there is a fine line between myth, legend, fiction, folk tale, etc. Many people believe that a myth is simply a mistaken belief; something that many believe but is actually untrue. According to Levi-Strauss’ (the anthropologist-sociologist, not the denim guy) theory, a myth is a belief that overcomes socially perceived contradictions or oppositional concepts. For example, a god or a ghost is both dead and alive, and therefore overcomes the oppositional nature of Life and Death. Really, though, a myth is a foundational belief; a belief that is not true or false but transformational. It cannot be evaluated as fact or fiction because it is meant primarily to help its believers interpret and understand the world around them. In this way, a myth is not something that happened, but something that is always happening. I would suggest, for example, that an emerging myth can be found in the realm of quantum physics via What the Bleep Do We Know or The Secret. Popular quantum physics overcomes the dualism between science and spirituality; philosophy and reality. It allows us to feel cosmically connected and universally relevant without forcing us to abandon our scientific minds.

The Bardic Legacy

I don’t mean to say we all should sing about how the String Theory will make our wishes come true. What I do mean to say is that it is important to be aware of what our society believes and what it needs to believe. Musicians, following the bardic legacy, are charged with the responsibility of articulating the deepest notions and sensations of the people they compose for. Poets and artists have been doing this nearly since civilization began. This may sound overly romanticized, but musicians-as-artists have an ear for those deepest chords echoing throughout the world around them. They must turn these into music that all can hear. If the current generation of minstrels and bards can tell humanity a story about itself that answers the timeless call for foundational beliefs and archetypal desires, we can perhaps avoid the self-destruction that Jung warned us about. If our need for myth can be fulfilled, we can and will go on. Each person indeed experiences this on a personal level when they hear a song that gives them hope, courage, and a sense of truth about the world. Some musicians (there are many others) that have spoken to my own personal mythology are Protest the Hero (“Turn Soonest to the Sea”), Cold Play (“Viva La Vida”), Cat Stevens (pretty much the whole Tea for the Tillerman album), and Meatloaf (pretty much the whole Bat Out of Hell series). While you may not agree with my musical taste, I think that if you really listen to the archetypal language and imagery being used by these artists you will get my point. And I suppose my real point is this: The world needs myth and musicians can be the mythmakers. The question is, are you up to the challenge? If you’re not sure, read The Epic of Gilgamesh, watch Star Wars, or listen to your favorite bard, and tell me you don’t want to be a hero.

References:
Dundes, A. (1997). “Binary Opposition in Myth: The Propp/ Levi-Strauss Debate in Retrospect.” Western Folklore 56 (1): 39-50.
Frankfort, H. and Bing, G. (1958). “The Archetype in Analytical Psychology and the History of Religion.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 21(3/4): 166-178.
Kluger, R.S. Gilgamesh: Modern Ancient Hero: A Jungian Interpretation. Ed. H. Yehezkel Kluger. Einsiedeln, Switzerland: Daimon Verlag, 1991.
Featured Photo by Flickr User SantiMB