In a Cecil Classic* recently given billboard treatment, What Is Perfect Pitch, and What Good Is It?, Homer nodded. Cecil sadly, makes a common journalist error: getting a quote right (presumably), but misapplying its import. And it takes up an entire graf of column real estate, precious beyond a king’s ransom:
The people with perfect pitch I spoke to poo-pooed the new-dimension-of-music angle, but some of them were clearly being too modest. One University of Chicago music professor said he could conjure up an entire orchestral piece in his mind strictly from having read the sheet music. It was like reading a book to him. There were pieces he’d enjoyed for years before he’d physically heard them played. Snatches of seen-but-not-heard music would float into his mind the way we might remember an advertising jingle. He didn’t own a stereo and didn’t need one. He had an experience of music most people would never know.
True, this ability is impressive, but no more impressive, fundamentally, than reading chess or bridge (the game) diagrams. More fundamentally, if that’s English, a case can be made, and has been, for it’s shared nature with reading of any text.
Any good Western classical musician can do this as a matter of course, easiest with common practice tonal music (say, starting early 1600s), and getting harder and harder as harmonic or polyphonic complexity increases: following/reading the harmonic shifts in Wagner, say, is quite a bit different than following “Three Blind Mice.” Following “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” even keeping in your mind’s ear the entrance of each of your cousins, is eminently doable, but the entrances in, say, Ligeti’s Lux Aeterna–the spooky music in 2001, when the chimps first see and approach the black slab thing–is hard.
Now, consider the first two named music examples above. Most of us have a mental sound image of that. Choose your own favorite or memorable tunes, whether you are musically illiterate (literally) or not. Musicians merely learn to remember their symbols and any referents of mental-textual apparatus, using absolute pitch if they have it, but far more often, even for those with A.P., I would think, it is a learned recall of tone to tone relationships and tone to mental apparatus comfortable with, in most cases, with the standard pitch and score notation we know and love.
I do not have perfect pitch, but can read, sight-un-heard (heh) music similarly. Also, consider the converse, again with trained musicians in a different situation: when listening to music in a key or, to a lesser extent, some post-standard-practice music, and I don’t decide the correct written key or pitch heard. I will mentally follow the/a score, or cognize a different mental “transcription,” in terms of tracking where it goes, enjoying the turns and tricks, mentally naming them–“man, Schubert, yet again you’ve blown my mind/guts/heart with that modulation to flat-VI,” joined with, perhaps, “Schubert, that’s why you’re Schubert and we all love you.” True, and it’s not just me. I read chess columns that have similar comments, which strike me as humorous sometimes.
My not having perfect pitch, sometimes, when I’m in this mode, is that my mental toolkit (key) may not match the original physical pitches, and, say, it would’ve been better had I not thought “What a weird key area for Schubert to write in or stray into, I can’t remember any Schubert/19th century/trio with flugelhorn (whatever) going there; gotta revise my knowledge and take on Schubert.” It upsets me, intellectually, for reasons I won’t go into here, when I’m thinking about Schubert/19th century/trio with flugelhorn (whatever). I do that a lot because I have a musicological/historian’s bent; different people think about different things.
Obviously the University of Chicago professor has had tremendous exposure to musical sound and training in relating that to graphemes. How a score would be read by someone deaf since birth, trained in some way I have no idea, in such a system of a logical concatenation of markings is something I’ve wondered about for years.
*Not a zombie, mind you. Yet another sign of Cecil’s über-Humanity.