"Music is the fourth great material want, first food, then clothes, then shelter, then music"
About this Quote
Bovee smuggles an audacious claim into the plain clothing of a shopping list: music belongs with calories, coats, and roofs. The line works because it borrows the authority of material necessity language to elevate something resolutely non-material. Calling music a "material want" is a deliberate contradiction, a rhetorical hack that reframes art as infrastructure. You can almost hear the 19th-century utilitarian scolds sputtering: if it does not feed the body, how can it be ranked with bread?
The ordering matters. By placing music fourth, Bovee avoids the easy mystic move of crowning art above survival. He grants the obvious sequence of bodily needs, then insists that once the organism is stabilized, it immediately starts asking for rhythm, melody, and communal feeling. The subtext is not that music is a luxury, but that it is what turns survival into life worth sustaining. A house without song is just storage for a laboring body.
Context sharpens the point. Mid- to late-1800s America is industrializing, urbanizing, standardizing time itself. Music is being reorganized too: parlor pianos, hymnals, marching bands, minstrel shows, later phonographs. In a world where work and production threaten to become the only credible values, Bovee argues for an insistently human counter-economy: people will always budget for meaning, even when the ledger calls it optional.
The intent is cultural, even political, without sounding like a manifesto: treat music as a public good, not an ornament for the comfortable. If you want a society that holds together, you don’t just feed it; you give it a shared beat.
The ordering matters. By placing music fourth, Bovee avoids the easy mystic move of crowning art above survival. He grants the obvious sequence of bodily needs, then insists that once the organism is stabilized, it immediately starts asking for rhythm, melody, and communal feeling. The subtext is not that music is a luxury, but that it is what turns survival into life worth sustaining. A house without song is just storage for a laboring body.
Context sharpens the point. Mid- to late-1800s America is industrializing, urbanizing, standardizing time itself. Music is being reorganized too: parlor pianos, hymnals, marching bands, minstrel shows, later phonographs. In a world where work and production threaten to become the only credible values, Bovee argues for an insistently human counter-economy: people will always budget for meaning, even when the ledger calls it optional.
The intent is cultural, even political, without sounding like a manifesto: treat music as a public good, not an ornament for the comfortable. If you want a society that holds together, you don’t just feed it; you give it a shared beat.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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