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Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Learning to Play in Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico Philosophicus

Transcendence, Elucidation, and the Music of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus

6.54:
My propositions serve as elucidations in the following way: anyone who understands me eventually recognizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them – as steps – to climb up beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed up it.)
He must transcend these propositions, and then he will see the world aright.

A book on music theory could say something very similar: These passage serve as elucidations in the following way: anyone who understands them eventually recognizes that they are not musical scores, when s/he has used them – as steps – to climb up beyond them. (S/he must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after s/he has climbed up it.)
S/he must transcend/overcome/rise-up-through/learn-the-use-of music theory, and then s/he will be able to read/play music aright.





3.263:
The meanings of primitive signs can be explained by means of elucidations. Elucidations are propositions that contain the primitive signs. So they can only be understood if the meanings of those signs are already known.

The meanings of notes on a score can be explained by means of elucidations. Elucidations are propositions that show how the notation of the notes are used. But, the notation of the notes can only be understood if those notes are already known (and this can be done by playing the note on an instrument).

3.26:
A name cannot be dissected any further by means of a definition: it is a primitive sign.

A musical notation of a note cannot be dissected any further by means of a definition: it is a primitive sign.

3.3:
Only propositions have sense; only in the nexus of a proposition does a name have meaning.

Only scores can be played; only in the nexus of a score does the notation of a note have meaning.

3.221:
Objects can only be named. Signs are their representatives. I can only speak about them: I cannot put them into words. Propositions can only say how things are, not what they are.

Only aspects of music can be named. Musical notations are their representatives. I can only speak about them: I cannot put them into words. Scores can only say how a piece of music is played, not what piece of music is played.



3.22:
In a proposition a name is the representative of an object.

In a score a musical notation is the representative of an aspect of a piece of music.

3.144:
Situations can be described but not given names. (Names are like points; propositions like arrows – they have a sense.)

Pieces of music can be scored, but cannot themselves be musical notations. (musical notations of notes indicate keys on the keyboard; scores are like arrows insofar as they show the dirrection of a piece of music).

3.141:
A Proposition is not a blend of words. – (Just as a theme in music is not a blend of notes.)
A Proposition is articulate

A Score is not a blend of notes. – (Just as a sentence is not a blend of words.)
A Score is articulates the music, but it is not itself the music.

4.011:
At first sight a proposition – one set out on the printed page. For example – does not seem to be a picture of the reality with which it is concerned. But neither do written notes seem at first sight to be a picture of a piece of music, nor our phonetic notation (the alphabet) to be a picture of our speech.
And yet these sign-languages prove to be pictures, even in the ordinary sense, of what they represent.

4.013:
And if we penetrate to the essence of this pictorial character, we see that it is not impaired by apparent irregularities (such as the use of  and in musical notation).
For even these irregularities depict what they are intended to express; only they do it in a different way.

4.014:
A gramophone record, the musical idea, the written notes, and the sound-waves, all stand to one another in the same internal relation of depicting that holds between language and the world.
They are all constructed according to a common logical pattern.
(Like the two youths in the fairy-tale, their two horses, and their lilies. They are all in a certain sense one.)

4.0141:
There is a general rule by means of which the musician can obtain the symphony from the score, and which makes it possible to derive the symphony from the groove on the gramophone record, and, using the first rule, to derive the score again. That is what constitutes the inner similarity between these things which seem to be constructed in such entirely different ways. And that rule is the law of projection which projects the symphony into the language of musical notation. It is the rule for translating this language into the language of gramophone records.





The Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus is like a book on music theory. A Book on music theory tells you how to read and write music, employ and understand how to make use of musical notation, and sets out the basic rules of harmony. But a book on music theory is not itself a book of music, and it certainly is not itself music. It is about music. By analogy, the logic of the Tractatus is like the logic of music theory. And since only actual sheet music can be understood as reflecting actual music, so too only actual proper propositions can be understood as reflecting an actual state of affairs, that is, have sense. Propositions about the rules of propositions do not reflect actual states of affairs, they simply show one how to go about making propositions that in fact do actually reflect actual states of affairs. Back to the music analogy, music theory does not reflect any actual music; rather, it shows how one can go about writing music (by musical notation) that in fact does actually reflect actual music. Let me put it this way: If I ask a pianist to play me a piece of music, and I put in front of him a book on music theory, the pianist will respond that my request of him to play the book of music theory is nonsensical. But if I put in front of him a piece of sheet music of say Beethoven’s Fur Elise, then there is no confusion. It makes sense to play the sheet music, but it doesn’t make sense to play the book of music theory.

In the analogy, the book on music theory is the Tractatus (or any philosophical work) because it simply elucidates how to use musical notation in order to play music. The propositions of natural science on the other hand are sheet music; they have sense. But one cannot play the music depicted by the sheet music if one has no grasp of musical theory (if one does not know the meaning/use of the musical notation). Therefore, the pianist must first learn the music theory, s/he must learn to read the music learn what it means in practice (i.e. the note ‘middle C’ means push the C key in the middle of the keyboard).

Furthermore, one must throw away the ladder that is the book of music theory before one can ever really get down to playing the music. The pianist must first learn the theory, but to play the actual music s/he must transcend the theory, must let it recede to the background, in order to play the music aright.




The world is a musical phenomenon. It is all rhythm and melody, pitch and timbre, and above all feeling. Everything is vibrations of the self, the out-flowing of consciousness in a grand creative joyful jam session.

What Wittgenstein fails to account for, to push the music analogy, is jazz. That is; on the fly riding the wave group music, the energy that is the essence of truly great music that arises by virtue of the positive feedback effect between performer(s) and audience. This is something that no musical notation can capture, and cannot be adequately explained; it must be experienced. This is the mystical. Of course knowledge of the logic of music and musical notation/theory is likely a necessary condition for even getting to the point where such a mystical musical experience is possible, but nevertheless it cannot be expressed. I guess that means we must be silent about it. But we must point to it, since it is the very core of true music. True music can be felt in the silence that follows it. The silence is deafening. It is the silence not only of the notes, but of the audience; nay of the entire universe. It is the mystical silence of reverence. When we come together to play music and to have a good time and all that entails, we are playmates with God, creating out of creation.