"It is a wise tune that knows its own father, and I like my music to be the legitimate offspring of respectable parents"
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A “wise tune” that “knows its own father” is Butler doing what he does best: smuggling a serious cultural complaint inside a joke sharp enough to draw blood. He borrows a proverb about children and paternity, then drags it into aesthetics, where questions of lineage are always messy. Tunes don’t have fathers; they have borrowings, echoes, thefts. By pretending music should possess a tidy family tree, Butler parodies the Victorian hunger for pedigree, authority, and “proper” origins - the same logic that policed class, sexuality, and legitimacy in human families.
The punchline lands because the metaphor is both ridiculous and revealing. Calling music “legitimate offspring” of “respectable parents” sounds like a fussy conservative pleading for musical chastity: no dubious street songs, no foreign contamination, no hybrid forms that can’t produce a birth certificate. Yet Butler’s wit cuts two ways. He’s mocking the snobbery of audiences who treat art like inheritance, but he’s also needling composers and critics who launder influence as originality. “Respectable parents” becomes code for sanctioned tradition, the canon, the names you’re allowed to cite without embarrassment.
Context matters: Butler lived in a culture obsessed with ancestry, propriety, and the moral bookkeeping of who came from where. He also wrote in an era rattled by Darwin, which made “descent” both a scientific fact and a social anxiety. The line isn’t just about music; it’s about how “taste” becomes a gatekeeping mechanism, turning creativity into a question of breeding rather than boldness.
The punchline lands because the metaphor is both ridiculous and revealing. Calling music “legitimate offspring” of “respectable parents” sounds like a fussy conservative pleading for musical chastity: no dubious street songs, no foreign contamination, no hybrid forms that can’t produce a birth certificate. Yet Butler’s wit cuts two ways. He’s mocking the snobbery of audiences who treat art like inheritance, but he’s also needling composers and critics who launder influence as originality. “Respectable parents” becomes code for sanctioned tradition, the canon, the names you’re allowed to cite without embarrassment.
Context matters: Butler lived in a culture obsessed with ancestry, propriety, and the moral bookkeeping of who came from where. He also wrote in an era rattled by Darwin, which made “descent” both a scientific fact and a social anxiety. The line isn’t just about music; it’s about how “taste” becomes a gatekeeping mechanism, turning creativity into a question of breeding rather than boldness.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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