Close encounters of the musical kind

3:35 PM, Jan. 4, 2013  |  Comments

A scientist - not a nutcase, but a respected scientist, albeit a wildly optimistic one - predicts that we will discover life on other planets within 12 years. Another predicts the discovery of an Earth twin, a planet capable of supporting life as we understand it, in 2013.

The continuing hunt for microbial evidence by NASA's Curiosity rover, which landed on the surface of Mars in August, is a more longshot attempt in the search for life, but one operating on an educated guess that Mars once held water and reasonably Earth-like conditions and therefore could have had life that left traces in the landscape.

All of this is a bet that life didn't evolve on just one planet only, but does so routinely under the right conditions. If you take that bet, then it's really only a matter of time: this year, next year, a decade or a century from now . . . at some point, we will find it.

Mind you, planets circle stars and the vast spaces between stars make any physical contact improbable. What we're talking about is probably some sort of detection of life through visual or radio evidence.

It could happen. But it probably won't.

But growing speculation about the possibility of life out there somewhere leads us inexorably to that particular question: What would an advanced, alien species of life look like? What would we have in common?

One thing might be music.

On our own planet, many, many species are compelled to make music and music-like sound. Whales, dolphins, horses, dogs, insects, reptiles - a veritable orchestra of interpretations on the basic theme of vibrating air molecules all used to sign to the universe: I am here.

More than that, those sound signals all send details about the sender's mood. A dog's howl is different from a whimper or a bark. Each sends a particular message: Not just I am here but, as folks in my town of Asbury Park would put it, I am here, and I feel some kinda way.

Presumably alien life, using the different molecules of the air of its own world, would have similar needs.

Such concepts as musical harmony - why two notes sound "good" together - are based on universal physical laws. Small-integer ratios between pitches vibrate more smoothly together than large-number ratios. As far as we know, those numbers don't change anywhere in the universe.

So there is a chance that right now, on one of the newly discovered planets in orbit around nearby stars, a concert could be happening that we, if we stretched our ears, could appreciate.

If that harmonious vision seems a bit too fantastic ... well, it probably is.

Each atmosphere and each physical construction of alien ears (or whatever their vibration receptors should be called) will hammer those basic laws governing sound into a shape conducive to that particular planet. The result might well be unrecognizable to us, even invisible to our bodies' physical sensors.

Where we could hear it, locally evolved cultural rules of musical construction might make it incomprehensible to us.

We've seen how much havoc a difference of musical expectations can raise. The 1913 riot at the premiere of Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring" (which merely bent longstanding rules of harmony and rhythmic structure) still echoes in every young composer's stab into the experimental.

Predispositions can prevent us from recognizing the musicality of what we're hearing.

To illustrate these challenges, listen to the songs of our terrestrial cohabitants, the humpback whales. Some of what they sing is beyond the range of human hearing - both above and below the frequency range our ears detect.

But even if we could really hear the whole spectrum of the humpback aria, could we say we understand that music? Hardly. Few earthly "musics" sound more alien to human ears.

We only came to realize it was music in 1970. Forty-three years later, we still don't know what they're singing about.

The likelihood of us ever coming into contact with alien singing is remote. And even if we do, aliens' songs may fall on deaf ears.

But maybe the possibility of finding a common musical experience in alien lifeforms is sufficient. The notion is both comforting and exciting and lends a new perspective on our own existence.

Even if the search for life comes to naught, it can help us listen more closely and with new ears to our own world.

Carlton Wilkinson is a composer, teacher and Ph.D. in music. Follow him on Twitter @CarltonOne or email him at

Real Deals



User Photos More Photos | Submit


Sign up for home delivery today

Facebook Activity

Most Commented