photo provided courtesy of Roomic Cube on Flickr Creative CommonsI’ve been rereading the Lord of the Rings trilogy lately. Anyone who’s ever read these books knows that there are LOTS of songs in them. Without much warning, a character will suddenly burst into a throaty song that can span several pages. When I was younger, I’d usually just skip over these italicized sections because I was more interested in orc killing, but now that I’m an old fuddy-duddy, I actually quite enjoy them.

I did notice something else about these songs, though. Aside from what I vaguely remember as Frodo giving one of Sam’s songs a lighthearted jab, you won’t find much music criticism in Middle Earth. Perhaps the elves, dwarves, and men just don’t have time for that sort of activity. There is a shadow in the East after all.

Or maybe there’s mutual respect paid to music. In Middle Earth, song is the language of telling events long past and keeping the feelings fresh. It’s not a contest. It doesn’t matter what a dude’s singing about or how he sings it. When Pippin strikes up one of Bilbo’s favorite bath songs, the other hobbits don’t boo his effort into submission. When Bilbo chants the verses of a long saga, he’s not poo-poo’d by some Rivendell critic for choosing a “turgid dirge” over something “more restrained.” When the elves of Lorien sing a lament for Gandalf’s passing, they aren’t given a 9.7 and praised for their choice of album title.

It’s true they didn’t have CD players and phonographs in Middle Earth, but that’s just the point. The people were the music. If the Brown Elves cut a crossover hit on an iBook from Saruman’s foul craft, maybe the dwarves would start hating on it. But in the absence of that happening, all but those supporting the dark powers respected a song.

That sounds about right.