In considering some essential elements about music, I have discovered that there are specific, invariable "places" which sound pleasing to the ear and in the memory.
Chords and notes are such 'privileged places'. For example A=440 and we hear the A note in tune at this frequency. The other notes of the scale also occupy invariable frequencies. The combination of elemental notes produces ear-pleasing chords. Such chords however do not exist in a vacuum, nor do they appear as music save in the form of rhythm and dynamics. The rhythmic form of music is not isolated from the melodic or chordal form. Both form a coherent synthesis in what we call song.

Tempos and beats also have privileged places called grooves. Finding the "pocket of the groove" entails not only nailing the beat but also setting the metronomic rhythm---the correct groove to be applied to a specific melody or piece of music.

The basic ingredient of music is not atomic but is rather synthetic---and the essential element is melody which is the essence of 'song'.

Once the correct chords are placed in proximity to each other, music discovers a groove or pulse to present them in the form of music. The 'song' exists beyond its parts and composing music is not a matter of creation from nothing but is rather a discovery.

Somebody who stumbled at a certain tempo on the A and then the G chord may have discovered the structure of any number of songs. They may have stumbled upon the beautiful progression in Stairway to Heaven. However, Jimmy Page was the one to occupy that song or "place". The guitarist who approaches that progression may feel the tug to remember Stairway to Heaven, and yet in its structure this is a very old progression. The songs are held intact via memory which is to a certain extent internal and to a certain extent externalized via technological methods of recording. An essential element in musical appreciation which is rarely mentioned, memory. Memory is pleased with repeated themes and variations, which are essential buildingblocks of music. Repetition is what constitutes style. For example, the twelve bar blues. It is repetition which essentially allows the blues pattern to exist, to be recognizable to the memory and productive of the pleasure which comes from hearing familiar patterns and hence "knowing where the one falls".

Styles and rythms, or "beats" distinguish the same C-G-D chord pattern as Blues in C, Pachelbel's Canon in D, or "Here Comes the Sun". Rhythm and style distinguish the piece of music from the primitive seven building blocks---the invariable frequencies which appear as notes of the scale. Since there are millions of songs but only seven primitive elements, we must look for the particular essence of a song not in the notes alone, but rather in their presentation as blues, or polyphony, instrumentation, and various other technical aspects which continuously present these seven ingredient notes as new music.

To a certain extent if I play an old song such as Scarborough Fair I am bringing it into being again and this is a novelty while the song itself is ancient preserved in memory. In fact the basic Amin-C-Amin-G progression forms the buildingblocks of The House of the Rising Sun and While My Guitar Gently Weeps as well as a whole host of other songs hanging in this Amin-C-G territory.

If a songwriter thinks he or she can write a new song they err in two ways: first of all there can be no song without the basic seven notes which have been played in millions of ways, secondly song does not happen at each and every frequency, it is not random, because the human ear possesses prefrerred frequencies which are aurally pleasing. In other words you cannot play music in any manner you wish because of the aforementioned "privileged" frequencies or notes, there is a limit at which 'A' no longer equals 440 and becomes "out of tune" until it reaches the "half step" sharp or flat and finally becomes the neighboring note such as G or B. In the same manner, rythm does not happen at just any tempo. There is a "right" groove in which A-G-C-D sounds good, and it is out of this groove that the "song" arises as a phenomenon.

To anyone who says that any old noise can count as music if enough fans enjoy it I say balderdash! If this is true then any old combination of sounds can be called music, but if that is the case then the concept of "noise" will lose its meaning, as will 'cacaphony'. Music and noise would be indistinguishable, hence music would have no meaning. The meaning of music is derived from decorum and order. The interpolation of noise can enhance music but in the end the synthetic entity we are discussing is music. Hence, the Who's "noise" is part of their musical composition. Because Pete Townshend so often plays traditional chord progressions in a manner that is acoustically shocking and new, he plays within the territory of song where melody and form is recognizable, memorable and pleasing. If he plays the D-C-G progression for the umpteenth million time yet does it in a novel way then he breathes life into ancient song forms and brings them to pass in this song within a context of guitar noise---this is style.