Everything in life is set in a context; we don't wake up each morning in a void. In fact, we're never in a void. The way you approach broccoli in the Great Hall is affected by your previous encounters and how others have spoken about it. Choosing to watch the stars from the overlook on your first date risks being spotted by nosey hallmates (physical context), but Mr. T's might've been the beginning of the end of your last relationship (relational context). God created us to be in context to be shaped by our circumstances — and He created it well.
You don't need a lecture from me on why context is important in studying the Scriptures. I'll let Dr. MacDougall have that one. You might need a refresher on what historical context is and why it's important, but I digress. We can burn that bridge when we get there (ask me about it in person).
The question I want to explore in this article is this: What role does the term 'context' have in our engagement with music?
A lot of ink has been spilled in the discussion of whether readers can or should interpret poems and other literature in the way the author intended. I don't wish to stake a claim on either side of this debate, but I think it is helpful to note that music is the same way. Artists create songs and lyrics both from a particular context and for a specific meaning. And we, the listeners, receive those songs in a particular context and as a result give them a specific meaning. This duality is impossible to avoid.
One of the most intriguing examples of the writer's side of context is the album Sour from Olivia Rodrigo. The album is stuffed with stirring breakup songs, yet Rodrigo admits that she "wrote breakup songs before I ever held a boy's hand." The emotional turmoil of her words indicate her understanding of breakups, but most of them were fabricated only from her conception of what a breakup actually entails. Rodrigo's shaping circumstances were not her own lived experience, but a limitless number of friends' stories, other breakup songs, rom coms, and whatever else she has been told directly or indirectly through our culture about broken dating relationships.
Artists also create context with the music itself. Take Coldplay's newly released album Music of the Spheres, for example. There are three stand-alone instrumental tracks meant to act as interludes or preparatory tunes that are less than a minute long. This includes "Earth", which is twenty seconds of screaming fans placed before "My Universe." Coldplay is telling us how they want us to hear and understand "My Universe." Kendrick Lamar makes a similar move by placing the explicit argument with his girlfriend "For Free? - Interlude" in the middle of his 2015 album.
So as listeners, what does it mean for us to jam to upbeat hymns while trying to finish the last set of our workout? Or that we can't let go of that one shared playlist from fall break because it fills us with sweet memories? Or that we're embarrassed to have our headphones disconnected in the library in case someone else hears what we're actually listening to?
We're all meaning-makers, and we're all in a host of influential contexts. This surely affects us as music creators and listeners.