The Art of Fine Whining
INWARD SOUND | 1.3.21
The raccoons made off with one of my garbage can lids. The kitchen is always a mess. I’m fed up with this stupid pandemic and I have a cricked neck.
Oh right — Happy New Year.
I’m starting 2021 with a list of complaints. Chief among them: I can’t stand to listen to myself whine — even when I manage to do it internally.
The Buddhist word for discontent is dukka and in meditation you’re meant to befriend it. The idea is that while the state of being bummed is inevitable, a skilled practitioner will acknowledge it, give it a little space to breathe, and let it move on gracefully. What he won’t do is pile on aggression (“why am I so morose and ungrateful?”) because that adds unnecessary suffering.
Sound good? Not really. Because here’s another complaint: inside the anechoic chamber of my mind, my gripes sound especially tinny and ugly.
Ten years ago the New York Times reported on a complaint choir. The idea started in Finland, where they have an expression, valituskuoro, for a bunch of people complaining in unison. Someone made the connection to music, and started to encourage people to air their grievances in public through song.
Complaint choirs became a trend in many cities. In Tokyo, their targets ranged from draconian bosses to the scarcity of datable men. If you look at the story you’ll see the singers wearing masks, because of the swine flu that was then raging across the region.
The reporter notes how
In all of the choirs, members try to keep aggrieved looks on their faces as they air their complaints. But then this front tends to give way to ill-disguised and even undisguised glee.
Regardless of the complaint and where it is sung, being able to sing it while standing alongside others is apparently often cathartic.
Unfortunately, standing alongside others, especially while singing, is currently not an option. But I still think music can help create a resonant space in which to befriend my inner grouch. I came up with a 15-minute playlist that lets me wallow in dissatisfaction with style.
There’s a gem of a Cinderella piece for oboe and piano by the Swiss composer Frank Martin. A piano miniature shimmering with ennui by Paul Dukas. Grigory Sokolov bringing his unspeakably beautiful trills to Rameau’s “Les tendres plaintes.” And a haunting, heartbreaking improvisation on duduk (a reed instrument) from Armenia that helps me put my own issues into perspective and climb out of the pity bath.
Image: Dieter K on Unsplash