On Perfection

Perfect is a mostly misunderstood word. What do we really mean when we say, "That was perfect!" Turns out the word is useful only if considered within a context, within a purpose. Without the purpose, it's of no use at all.

Listening to Lightnin Hopkins the other day I thought how "imperfect" a lot of the music was in a certain sense, under the rules commonly taught in schools with origins in the European tradition, but how "perfect" it was in another sense, the sense that mattered to me.

Consider the gritty voice for example. "No Johnny, keep your throat as open as possible to get the purest sound." Yes, if you're auditioning for the Vienna Boys Choir. Whose voice is more perfect, the pure voice of a boy in the Vienna Boys Choir or the gritty voice of Lightnin Hopkins'? Try having a highly trained boy soprano sing Rainy Day Blues and you'll find out damn quickly.

So to ask whether a thing is perfect or not is the same as to ask whether or not the thing fulfills its intended purpose.

The purpose of Lightnin Hopkins' music in my estimation is to give us that thing, that art that delights the soul, that somehow communicates everyday but profound human experiences that we can relate to, and with rhythm and soul, and grit, that you can't put into words, and that you can only get from Lightnin Hopkins! So his music is perfect in that it fulfills its intended purpose...and that's all I care about.

Ray Charles was asked about all of the advanced music studio equipment out there today. He said he didn't really care which technology was used. The only thing that mattered, he said, was, "What does it sound like? What does it souunndd like baby!?"

It's the same with any art form, and the practice of any trade or profession is an art form.

So no matter what your trade or profession, be perhaps informed by, but simultaneously completely free of the rules of your trade. The only question that matters is, "What does it sound like? What does it souunndd like baby!?"

-Forsyth