Extraordinary how potent cheap music is.

Hear, O listeners of song and story, the voice of Noël Coward, who declared: “Extraordinary how potent cheap music is.” These words, though spoken with the wit of a playwright and the sharpness of satire, conceal a deep truth about the nature of music and the heart of man. For it is not always the lofty symphony nor the intricate composition that pierces the soul, but often the simple tune, the plain melody, the so-called “cheap music” that lingers in memory and stirs forgotten feelings.

For behold, music is not judged only by its refinement, but by its power to move. A folk song, sung by peasants around a fire, may evoke more tears than a thousand polished notes performed in golden halls. A lullaby hummed by a mother, though simple as breath itself, carries more comfort than the grandest orchestra. Coward, with irony and wisdom, reminded us that “cheap” does not mean weak, for the heart knows no measure of sophistication—only resonance.

Consider the soldiers of the First World War, weary in trenches, surrounded by mud, blood, and despair. It was not operas that sustained them, but humble songs—“It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” “Pack Up Your Troubles.” These tunes were cheap music, written for the masses, but they carried extraordinary potency: they bound hearts together, lifted spirits from despair, and gave men the strength to endure. Here, Coward’s words find their living proof: simplicity became salvation.

History also tells us of Harriet Tubman, who used the power of song as code and comfort for slaves escaping to freedom. Spirituals like “Go Down Moses” or “Steal Away” were not polished compositions, but they were potent with courage and hope. What the world might have dismissed as “cheap music” was in truth a mighty weapon, stirring the spirit, guiding the lost, and transforming sorrow into strength. Truly, such melodies prove that power is not always cloaked in grandeur.

Mark this wisdom well: cheap music is not defined by cost, but by accessibility. It belongs to the people, not the elite. It is the voice of the streets, the taverns, the kitchens, the factories. It speaks in the language of the many, not the few. And because of this, it enters the heart unguarded, bypassing intellect, striking directly at memory, longing, and emotion. This is why Coward called it “extraordinary”—because its strength lies in its simplicity, and its reach knows no boundaries.

The lesson is plain: do not scorn the humble, the ordinary, the common. In music, as in life, the simplest things often carry the deepest power. A simple word of kindness, a familiar tune, a melody sung off-key but with love—these are the “cheap music” of daily life, and they are potent beyond measure. To dismiss them is to miss the secret of human connection.

Practical wisdom calls for this: embrace both the great and the small. Enjoy the majesty of symphonies, but do not despise the song that rises from a crowded street. Honor the complexity of masterworks, but remember the quiet tune that brings comfort to a lonely heart. Fill your life with both depth and simplicity, for each has its place, and often the humblest melody proves the strongest.

Thus, beloved, remember the wit and wisdom of Noël Coward: cheap music is potent because it belongs to the people, because it speaks to the soul without pretension, because it heals, unites, and endures. Let us never scorn what is simple, but cherish it, for in simplicity lies the extraordinary strength of the human spirit.