man tells all

a column by bass player and musicologist Hans Mantel, on his current state of mind

maestro mantel

Judging by its Cover

Lovers of literature and music have much in common.

There’s the love for life’s finer cultural things, an esthetic awareness and,

of course, the possibility to collect these things in the form of books and cd’s.

We share these things with lovers of sculptures and paintings,

but there’s a less accessible and less uniform format for collecting

relevant to these specific art forms.

There is another difference that I mentioned in an earlier column:

with sculpture and painting, the work is there in front of you; you can touch it.

With books and cd’s, we only possess a representation of the work,

not the works themselves.

We can’t ever own Shakespeare’s sonnets or Bach’s motets,

just read them to lovers and listen to them on religious holidays...

what we own is an encoded and/or printed representation of these things.

That representation is what makes these things collectible as items.

But that is where the comparison ends.

I noticed a difference that I can’t quite sufficiently explain.

We all know the feeling of elation when we finally, after a long and

painstaking search, find the mint condition book that we wanted for so long.

A beautifully bound first edition with a gold leaf, engraved leather cover

with beautiful typeface on paper of exquisite quality.

And ahhhhhhhhh, that smell.

That smell that tells stories of familiarity with other famous volumes

standing together for generations on the third tier of some old oakwood

library in one of Shropshire’s more stately homes. I am as fond of books

as I am of records but here’s the thing: in contrast with what I love about books,

I am really not interested in what the record or the cd looks like.

With records and cd’s, I’m only interested in what the music is.

The form in which it comes to me is a factor of minor interest.

Isn’t that strange?

Especially with jazz it is important to hear what the musician is telling us or,

to be more specific, what the story is he/she is telling us, how it all unfolds.

In this respect even the recording quality doesn’t bother me too much,

as long as I can hear what he/she is saying.

There are, of course, limitations to this, but no machine or computer

program that enhances or filters sound can rival the human brain.

If you really concentrate on the music, the imperfections of an LP gradually disappear.

We have all had this experience. If we’re in a noisy bar with someone we are

in the process of falling madly in love with, we can hold long conversations

and hear every word the other is saying because the actuality of the situation

makes our brain filter out the background noise.

At intervals we may become dimly aware of our surroundings but then

we effortlessly slide back into the aural equivalent of tunnel-vision because

we concentrate on the only thing that is important, her...him.

So it’s the music that’s important and not the packaging of the cd.

True, it’s nice to have good liner notes or an attractive cover design,

but in no way does it have the same intimate relationship to the information

contained within as we experience with books.

Why is that?

Maybe the books in the bookcase serve as a statue of sorts.

Or maybe it’s the possibility of a quick reference.

To look something up takes more time with a cd or LP than it does with a book.

Maybe books (especially after they’ve been read) represent

a collection of emotions and memories that the object itself has come to embody or represent.

Or is it just that books have been around for so long?

For the moment I’ve resigned myself to thinking that books, having a wider variety

of appearence as they come in all sizes and types, have more character.

Something that the cd lacks.

Could that be the answer?

If you know the answer, let me know (or write a book about it).

Love to hear from you, Hans Mantel

man tells all

Judging by its Cover

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