the magic that is KaTe...

[gravende@epas.utoronto.ca (David Gravender)]

Some words in response to Vickie's and IED's recent attempts at an
articulate definition of what is so incommensurably special--so
"magical"--about the music of Our KaTe, in itself and in relation to
other real or imagined transcendencies to be found in the work of others.

First of all, it seems to this humble correspondent that the estimable
IED has caught the scent of the right trail (he is a love-HOUND after
all! '_~) towards treeing a definition of "magic." I would, however,
respectfully offer some qualifications and (as i hope) clarifications
to his musings, towards a clearer undrstanding of the question and
eventually its 'answer'.

What i think we want once we've 'agreed' that "magic" in Art has
somthing to do with being a "reminder... of the possibility of God"
(as  IED quoted peter manchester as writing) is a way to measure the
extent to which any given art or artist achieves such a state. In
other words, i think we are wanting some basic (as in fundamental)
aesthetic criteria, or at least aesthetic notions. There seems to me a
quite distinct difference between Kate and, say, the New Kids on the
Block which makes me think that the "experience of Kate" is and can be
shown to be different in quality from the "experience of the New
Kids"--that is, to be perhaps more clear about it, that there exist
_objective_ critical (i.e. aesthetic) standards which can show the one
"magic"  true (i.e. well-grounded) and the other a delusion (insofar
as it purports or is purported to be a "magic" of the first-order,
which is the kind we are concerned with here).

At this point, we might consider the following words of matthew arnold,
the 19th century English poet & critic, which i think throw some
helpful light on the question (he is talking about poetry, but i think
the general idea is applicable to all art; and in any event, kate's
music does involve some poetic use of language):

"We naturally take pleasure, says Aristotle, in any imitation or
representation whatever: this is the basis of our love of Poetry: and
we take pleasure in them, he adds, because all knowledge is naturally
agreeable to us; not to the philosopher only, but to (hu)mankind as
well. Every representation therefore which is consistently drawn may
be supposed to be interesting, inasmuch as it gratifies this natural
interest in knowledge of all kinds. What is _not_ interesting is that
which does not add to our knowledge of any kind; that which is vaguely
conceived and loosely drawn; a representation which is general,
indeterminate, and faint, instead of being particular, precise and firm.

"(But)...more than this is demanded. It is demanded, not only that is
shall interest, but also that it shall inspirit and rejoice the
reader: that it shall convey a charm, and infuse delight. For the
Muses, as Hesiod says, were born that they might be "a forgetfulness
of evils, and a truce from cares": and it is not enough that the poet
should add to the knowledge of men, it is required of him (or her)
also that (s)he should add to their happiness. 'All Art,' says
Schiller, 'is dedicated to Joy, and there is no higher and no more
serious problem, than how to make (people) happy. The right Art is
that alone which creates the highest enjoyment.'"

It is the presence in Kate's music of these 2 qualities to which it
is, i think, we have all responded, and greatly and rightfully prize.
The "magic" then is not insubstantial or vague, but exists to the
degree that her music (or anyone's art) interests us--captivates
us--by its achievement of an accurate, precise representation of an
action or mood or thought, AND its conveyance of charm, its infusion
of delight, through the "proper" (i.e. well-suited), "high" or serious
choice of theme and treatment. We may have all been at fisrt attracted
to KaTe's music by its unusual SOUND, but that is not what has kept us
attracted, nor deepened nor enhanced our interest. It is the
intelligence and talent and what i can only imprecisely term
'innocence' or 'sympathetic sincerity' BEHIND that sound--the bases
for WHY it is as it is--tht has won our hearts and ears, and has made
that sound all the more intriguing and inspiring. These are all fairly
general reasons (though to a particular point!), but not i hope the
lesser-deemed for it--for indeed it is in KaTe's peculiar "generality"
that her greatness lies. She writes Music that defies categorization,
and has a more organic character to its structure (while working
within the bounds of traditional structure) than does most (all?) of
the other music it is classed with in stores these days.

What we have all responded to then in our first encounter(s) with Kate
and her music, if i am right, is, beneath the CONSIDERABLE stylistic
felicities of her art--her voice, the instrumentation, etc--the
presence of True Art, the awareness of Beauty in something approaching
its timeless aspect. It is a music that while as entertaining in tune
or beat as anyone's has yet something more, the certain HEFT or weight
of something that will last by virtue of exceptional craft and
spirit--it creates its own world which can & does to some degree
transform our own.

And with that thought in mind, i'd like to finish and leave you with
part of a poem by Wallace Stevens, "An Idea of Order at Key West",
which struck both me and my friend Kim as quite suggestive of the
effect of KaTe on us (and by extension, other listeners/fans)--we were
so struck, we even sent the following 'edited' version to KaTe as part
of our birthday message:

               She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
	           *      *       *     *
	       It may be that in all her phrases stirred
	       The grinding water and the gasping wind;
	       But it was she and not the sea we heard.
               For she was the maker of the song she sang.
	       The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
	       Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
	       Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
	       It was the spirit that we sought and knew
	       That we should ask this often as she sang.
	           *       *        *     *
	                           It was her voice that made
               The sky acutest at its vanishing.
	       She measured to the hour its solitude.
	       She was the single artificer of the world
	       In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
	       Whatever self it had, became the self
	       That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
	       As we beheld her striding there alone,
	       Knew that there never was a world for her
	       Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

oo KaTe! :)
_____________________________________________________________________

david gravender  <gravende@epas.utoronto.ca>  'i'm goin' to Chicago!'