Nietzsche's Hope Drone

Confusing, longwinded, contradictory--all are words to describe Nietzsche’s philosophy of aesthetics. It appears his monologue goes on indefinitely, swaying between opinions as though his philosophy is solely of his capricious emotions. He rambles, he whines, he even points fingers to those he claims are the “naive artists,”(BoT 25). He originally praises Wagner, only to tear him apart. It’s as if Nietzsche himself can’t quite explicate his very own thinking.

What then can we take away from his thoughts on aesthetics? If there is some morsel of truth behind all the vagueness, what could it be?

To better understand Nietzsche’s complex view of music, I think it’s only fair to use a song as demonstration.

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Here, the piece Dead Flag Blues from the album “F#a#∞” by Godspeed You! Black Emperor does best to illustrate the A. wisdom of Silenus, B. blend of the Apolline and the Dionysian, and C. privleging of Bizet over Wagner.

A. Silenus speaks to King Midas: 

“Wretched, ephemeral race, children of chance and tribulation, why do you force me to tell you the very thing which it would be most profitable for you not to hear? The very best  thing is utterly beyond your reach not to have been born, not to be, to be nothing. However, the second best thing for you is: to die soon."

It is apparent in the song by Godspeed You! Black Emperor of an insurmountable death drive. The monologue within the intro clearly paints the picture of a universal, not subject, death. The world is crumbling; we are all destined to parish. In this way, the song is speaking not of the musicians' internal conflicts, but rather the battle of humanity, the terrible wisdom of Silenus. “The sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides” as the humanity pushes towards nothingness, the burden of living unbearable.

B. Apolline vs. Dionysiac

The melody of the song, much to dead Schopenhauer’s pleasure, is easily recognizable. It continues throughout the song with ease—any individual could hum along to the--rather bleak—tune. Not only is the melody discernible, but the chord progression has roots in the technical/logical instrumentation of blues and early 1950’s rock music. In that sense, it’s highly Apolline. Blues has it’s roots in the sorrows of the individual which expresses a fundamental dissallusionment with the world through the use of words—characteristically Apolline. Yet, the genius of this piece is that, although such sorrows are individuated by nature of blues music, there are no words to discern anything. We are left with the vague uneasiness and melancholy spirit of a blues song, without any of the indicative semblance that characterizes representational music. This makes the song highly Dionysian.

Like Apollo’s temple at Delphi, the characteristic of the intro monologue is twofold: both Apolline and Dionysiac

The inscription above the temple reads “Know thyself” and “Not to much!” as if to limit the around of logic and self discovery associated with the Apolline. And same goes for the monologue. The narration begins and ends in a state of confusion, having begun to illustrate something of grave importance, and ending before any real clarity was achieved. This is the true balance between the Apollonian logic and the Dionysian primordial unity. The narration need not continue, for the spirit of the Dionysiac is empowered as the melody of the song begins.

The rest of the song is pure sorrow and pure bliss, explicating nothing more than the melody and harmony put forth. Nietzsche might refer to the restless and turbulence towards the middle of the piece as the “moira” of nature, the fate of life itself (BoT 23). Yet, what I find so purely genius about this song, and hopefully the decomposing Schopenhauer may agree, is the ending. Though possibly overlooked, it is absolutely fundamental for our using this song as demonstration of Nietzschian aesthetics. This brings me to my last point…

C. Bizet, oh sweet Bizet

Having rejected Wagner—and inadvertently a large portion of his Birth of Tragedy—Nietzsche began his tryst with the composer Bizet. He praised him for his originality as a true artist. What Nietzsche saw in Bizet’s work was that for which he so highly praised Wagner—the return to attic Greek tragedy as the ultimate art. In this, Nietzsche claims that in order to create, we must first stare into the void, recognize our fate, and laugh. This is why the song Dead Flag Blues is absolutely genius. 

Towards the end of the piece, after the strings have calmed their wailing, the guitars have softened their tone, we the audience expect closure—we assume the song has come to an end. At this point, the song has painted for us a horrifying yet beautiful picture of the end of humanity, of death and dying, of aching sorrow and the wisdom of Silenus. We, at this point, are left with much to contemplate—the song has achieved for us a grand philosophy that Nietzsche would have praised. Yet, after short silence, the instrumentation begins again. We are catapulted back into the clamor of song as the musicians once again breathe life into their instruments. And with this new melody comes hope! What is this but a glockenspiel, ringing out the simple tune of joviality, of youthfulness, of desire, of happiness. The strings have awakened into a sublime and cheerful tune! This is it! This is what Nietzsche so pushed for in his philosophy! “Bliss born of pain,”(BoT 26). It is the reconciliation of fate; the staring into the void, only to rise up laughing. The guitar echoes sweet ecstasy as the musicians achieve the greater Will, the universal understanding, the affirmation, the justification of life. The bitterness of our condition cannot suppress the hope and levity of the human spirit. That is it. That is all.