Among the myriad races that exist among the cosmos, there are things that the Greater Races have referred to as “Universal Concepts.” These are things that are standard among the known starfaring races. Such things include, but are not limited to, measurements of time, currency, mathematics, engineering, philosophy, as well as concepts of reading and writing.
It is my belief that we have, rather foolishly, included music as one of those aforementioned Universal Concepts in that it is universally reserved for religious and cultural rituals. However, doing so has been a huge error on part of the Greater Galactic Community.
———
To begin, I must first introduce Humanity. The Humans are a small race, relatively speaking, as they are one of the more recent races to achieve spacefaring technology. They have multiple planetary colonies within their home system and have plans to further their expansion to beyond that. They recently joined the Galactic Federation only ten or twelve star cycles ago, when a Talvarian spacecraft accidentally discovered one of their more recent colonies. Like most of us, I was wary of the humans. I was aware they had concepts of music, but I was unaware of how deeply ingrained it is in their culture. I was also unaware of the fact that their music can only be described as magic.
Secondly, before I can address the Human’s music, I must bring to your attention that which we already know, so as to set a precedent. All of the races in the Galactic Federation possess a concept of music. It has a place in our rituals and traditions of old. However, for us, that is where it stays. A tool to commune with our pasts and spirits. We heavily restrict it, as to devise music outside of a ritual or traditional practice is quite, eh shall we say, irreverent.
As examples, The Gar’Ask utilize deep and booming war drums to recall the sound of their armies marching in victory. Likewise, we hear the chiming of the Resonance Crystals in Melitonian Religious ceremony. My own race of the Illik-Taoh utilizes the rhythms produced by the clicking of our mandibles to sound the Life-Rhythms produced by our queen and progenitors of ages past. To utilize these musical talents outside of their respective use cases would certainly be met with horrible punishment.
(Addendum: I am aware of races outside of the Council that possess a similar concept of, as the humans put it, secular music, such as the Galobs, but for the purposes of my claim it does not count as music, merely rampant and incessant noise.)
As you well know, the races of the Greater Council carry with us the belief of “Blessed Silence.” That since music is reserved for those few moments, that the silence between those moments is to be expected and, in some ways, revered. And we impress this notion even among the new member races who do not share our common belief.
This is not the case for Humanity.
I remember when the Humans joined the Federation, and we oriented them with the ideas and ideals of the federation, and with it the concept of “Blessed Silence.” And I recall the humans trying to avoid being pressed on it as much as possible, while diplomatically trying to disguise their immediate tension with the topic. I, like the other ambassadors, thought it strange at the time, but ultimately a minor inconvenience if anything else.
It was soon after this that I observed the TFS Tchaikovsky to ascertain the nature of human protocols and technology.
For the full duration of the cycle aboard the TFS Tchaikovsky, it seemed to be as if the Humans were allergic to the very concept of silence—as if the lack of noise offended them deeply. From the moment I set foot aboard the ship, the engineers were singing along to an Old Earth tune as they finished their work, which I am not certain I got the title of properly, “Seed Carrierline” followed by three exclamations. It was my first impression that this trip would be quite different from what I have been used to.
As the ship left orbit, one of the pilots put this small circular device into his left ear. When I asked him what it was and why, he explained that it was an “ear-bud”, and that it allowed him to listen to music while he worked. It seems I had the unintended consequence of getting that pilot into trouble, as the captain told him to take it out almost immediately after I asked him.
It appears that humans have such a reverence for music that they’d risk being admonished and even punished for attempting to listen to it when not supposed to. It was about this time I noticed to faint sounds carrying through the hallways and cabins within the ship.
The crew of the TFS Tchaikovsky had installed a speaker system hooked to some kind of “radio station” to have a constant stream of music. At first, it was exhausting. I was able to turn it off when in my quarters, but everywhere else, the omnipresent sound of what they called orchestras drained on my mind heavily that first week.
Now you might start to look at all I have written and find my claim and testimony contradictory, to which it is, as of now. But it is what happened starting on day 15 of my voyage that put forth this notion that human music is magical in nature, for what I have witnessed while listening to those songs can only be described as miraculous.
The Tchaikovsky is a military transport vessel. It carried cargo and ground troops from one base to the other. This does not mean it is easy pickings for pirates, and the pirates know this in turn. Three large pirate vessels dropped from Warp-Space in front of the ship. The humans did not wait for a hail or communications to begin the preparations for combat and, eventually, to escape. All the while their music continued. In fact, their captain had even ordered their onboard AI to activate his, and this is a direct quote, “Ass-Kicking Playlist.” The “calming” music from before was suddenly replaced with this frantic and violent noise the humans called “Rock.”
For the next few minutes I waited on bated breath as the battle raged. The defenses of the Tchaikovsky were putting up a good fight, but were hopelessly outmatched by the pirate frigates that now surrounded the vessel. But somehow, it did not feel like humanity was losing. It felt like watching a gladiator match, where one warrior was on the defensive against a much larger foe, but only needed one mortal strike to secure victory. Against all that my logic and my reasoning would tell me, it did not feel as if we were about to die.
Perhaps it was the fierce determination from the captain, perhaps it was my own survival instincts tricking my brain into remaining calm, but I cannot describe it in any other way than that; that it did not feel as if the Tchaikovsky would lose this unwinnable battle. I did not realize, at this time, that I was still listening to the “rock” music until one track dropped to what the humans called a “piano solo” when the captain ordered for the ensign to maneuver the ship straight downwards and prepare to warp out as soon as the pirates prepared their heavy artillery.
I still remember the captain’s words to me at that moment, as I stammered on about the impossibility of doing what he wanted to do, to which he sat me down in an empty chair so as to not hurt myself upon warp and looked me in the eyes while wearing a demonic grin that, for a minute, reminded me that humanity was once an apex predator of their world, and said with all ridiculous seriousness,
“Who the hell decided what is or isn’t possible? I’m the captain of this vessel, and so long as that music is playing, there is no force neither God nor man can throw at me I can’t weather. So listen up and watch close, ambassador, because this is what it means to be Human.“
It went against all my mental faculties to claim that the secret to victory lies in the music, but the proof lies in the fact that I am writing this today. I watched on in horror as the pirates charged their heavy artillery to destroy this ship, and listened on as the music continued to build until he gave the order.
I know now that the captain had listened to that song enough to be able to time his order with the music so that the ship would warp in time with the chorus of the song, but in that moment of warp, after I had confirmed that I was not, in fact, space dust, it felt miraculous. It felt as though things aligned in a way only fate could have it be.
I now understand why the human ambassadors were so avoidant of our queries as to their observance of Blessed Silence, and it is because they do not observe it, and in fact draw strength from their music. Human music stirs the soul in ways few can. It is a feeling I have never felt before nor can explain since. But ever since feeling it, I have been drawn by a singleminded focus to feel it again. The euphoria of human music.
For the rest of my time there I listened intently to their music. I even learned their names. From the energetic highs of “Shoot to Thrill” to the somber melancholy of “Someone to Love” that drew forth emotions from me I didn’t even know I had. I even caught myself singing along to “Seed Carrierline” (which at this point was a joke among the crew at my expense for mishearing the title, which I now know is “Sweet Caroline”), and as I did, I came to my realization. Human music uniquely affects one’s self more than what we have experienced with our ritual songs. In defeating silence, they have given rise to something more powerful than the reverence of silence: Emotion.
Each of their songs was made with the same care we put into our own arts. Each piece, while noisy, carries with it the beliefs and emotions of the one who made it, and is beautiful in its own right. I have listened even to their ritual songs, and, while the meaning is lost on me due to being written in a yet untranslated language of “La-Tin”, even those are still beautiful.
I also discovered that Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, the man behind the namesake of the ship, was a composer. A man who wrote music of his own! How fortuitous was this! The captain played some of his music, and it was unlike anything played for me before. They played something called the “Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture.” Upon hearing this, I was overcome with emotion and never more before had I wished my race was able to shed tears. More than that, I wish I was able to meet this Tchaikovsky. His music had affected me more than the others. I understand that humanity calls this genre that he is from, “Classical”, as it’s far older than even the songs they played before.
As I left my time aboard the TFS Tchaikovsky, the captain handed me a gift. He gifted me a device he called an “mp3 player.” It was a small cylindrical device with a port in the top for “ear-buds” to be plugged in, and it was attached to a small string to be work around the neck. He said that his father gave it to him when he was of age, and his father before him, and so on and so forth, and that it carries with it the music of multiple generations. And now he has given this heirloom to me.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice weary with emotion, “This will be the first device to collect music from other races. One big intergalactic playlist. Take care of it, yeah?”
I looked at the gift in my hand and replied, “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll be sure to pass it down in my clutch as long as I can. So that this endeavor can be carried in the future.”
———
In summation, I now believe as the humans do; that music is superior to silence, and that, while both have their places, music should spread among the stars so other races can try to develop their own musical identity. I even picked up learning what the humans call the violin in an attempt to mimic and create my own music so I can return the gift I received so long ago and that I keep around my neck to this day.
I will always remember that tiny cargo vessel that changed my life. The Tchaikovsky, and its captain, one Erik V.
Thank you.
Ceremonial Speech of J’asks-Tæ-Renzz
Ambassador to the Terran Federation of Earth
First Conductor of the Galactic Symphony Hall
Progenitor of the Arts
Addendum: Despite my new beliefs, I will still not call that noise produced by the Galobs music now nor will I ever. They are the exception.