The Beauty of Unheard Music

In 54 years, I’ve managed to get my ears around a decent chunk of music, thanks to being inquisitive and not limiting my exposure to the variety of sounds out there. But no matter how much music I’ve heard by the end of this life—even if it’s the equivalent of a thousand songs a day (as if that were possible)—the number will be infinitesimal compared to the total amount of music still waiting to be heard!

It’s just one example of how big and endless music truly is. Awe-inspiring...but also a bit frustrating. For example, just when I think I’ve heard and learned enough to write convincingly about jazz from the 1950s–60s, I discover another great luminary attached to that heady era of music.

This time, the late musician Yusef Lateef.

While not as prominent or influential as John Coltrane—who was central to the spiritual jazz movement that began in the 1960s—Dr. Lateef is totally worth researching beyond this essay for a future piece here on TRH. Lateef was a multi-instrumentalist who played several reed-based instruments, as well as flute; and he was one of the pioneering musicians who introduced Eastern and international sounds into jazz. His styles ranged from traditional to avant-garde to spiritual.

Somehow I’m just now, tonight, discovering Dr. Lateef’s greatness. And by the time I’m done binging on his work, he may well be one of my all-time favorite artists. It only took me 54 years to find him. How crazy is that?

Actually...how beautiful is that? It confirms there’s so much great music in the world that I’ve still not yet heard—so many artists, songs, arrangements, styles, movements. But it also means I’ll never reach a point of having discovered “enough” music—ensuring this will always be an exciting journey.

Throughout life, that fact has comforted and inspired me as a music lover, listener, and creator. The problem is: I’m changing...and so are my listening habits.

I suspect this anxiety has less to do with the scarcity of time—something we are all victims to—and more to do with the progression of it. When I am honest with myself, I must admit to no longer being the same, adventurous music listener from the “heyday” of my 20s and 30s. I mean, that guy was something else. Handsome. Charming. Carefree. Exceptional in every way. (Hmm…maybe I’m thinking of a different guy.)

I wasn’t afraid to boldly stride into even the seediest of record shops, on any given Friday, and leave with an armload of freshly shrink-wrapped CDs that boasted a wide range of styles and eras—some familiar, some not. I’d then go home and curate the most phenomenal, stirring playlists—with handpicked gems by the likes of Herbie Hancock, Jimi Hendrix, Antonio Carlos Jobim, and Massive Attack, all sharing the same glorified space—that anyone had ever heard!

A bit of hyperbole, for sure…but not far from the truth. So, someone please explain how this paragon of music discovery—inspired by a pure love of music and everything it stands for—still never once ran across Yusef Lateef!

There are likely any number of explanations. But here’s the one that puts my worries most at ease:

Maybe finds like Dr. Lateef’s “Love Theme From Spartacus”—the chill sound of peaceful oboe floating lightly across soft undercurrent of drums and piano, recorded in that vintage style indicative of ’60s jazz studio albums—take a special maturity to appreciate. An attunement to music that’s not just obscure or unique...but also steeped in a kind of cosmic meaning, even when the music has no words. (Suddenly, I no longer see spiritual jazz as this obscure, esoteric thing—I actually want to explore more!)

“Each culture has some knowledge... And I believe one should seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave. With that kind of inquisitiveness, one discovers things that were unknown before.”

— Yusef Lateef, paraphrased

Hmm...maybe old(er) ears are the best ears; they can hear what young(er) ears can’t. That’s also the beauty of unheard music. (You know, the other 99.99% of the world’s music that you’ll never get a chance to hear, even if you live to 100?) We truly discover music—that is, appreciate its nuances, its hidden meanings, even its historical context and significance—when our ears are finally ready to hear it.

In the meantime, the music may take some time to find us. So let’s not get overwhelmed by the vastness of it all. Let’s just take in the sounds as they come...and enjoy every new discovery.

Thanks, Dr. Lateef…

This piece was part of the inspiration behind a new research project of mine: the TRH Listening Habits Survey. It’s a short, informal questionnaire about how our relationship to music evolves over time—what we listen to, how we listen, and what that music means to us. So far, it’s resulted in a lot of great conversations with music lovers in my personal space. And soon, I’ll be releasing the survey here on TRH. So if you’d like to be part of the conversation, keep an eye out!