The people who know nothing about music are the ones always

Nat King Cole, the velvet-voiced master of song, once observed with gentle irony: “The people who know nothing about music are the ones always talking about it.” At first, these words may sound like a jest, but within them lies a timeless truth about human nature. For often those who lack the depth of understanding speak the loudest, while those who truly know dwell in the quiet power of their art.

To speak of music without knowing it is to grasp at shadows instead of light. True musicians, like Cole himself, lived their art not in endless chatter but in the living voice, the touch of fingers on ivory, the rising of melody from soul to sound. They knew that music is not merely something to be dissected, but something to be lived, felt, and breathed. By contrast, the critic who has never lifted an instrument, who cannot hear the language of harmony in the heart, may fill the air with words but remain empty of truth.

This wisdom is not confined to music alone. In every field, those who labor deeply are often the most humble, while those who stand outside, ignorant of the craft, are quick to proclaim themselves experts. The ancient philosophers knew this well—Socrates declared that true wisdom begins in knowing one’s own ignorance. Nat King Cole echoes this ancient lesson: that it is better to sing one note with sincerity than to boast endlessly about a song one does not understand.

Consider the story of Franz Schubert, whose genius was often unrecognized in his own time. While critics dismissed him and others spoke loftily of what they thought music should be, Schubert quietly composed songs of piercing beauty—pieces that would endure long after the chatter of his detractors was forgotten. His life proves Cole’s words: the noise of those who “talk” cannot silence the truth of those who create.

Even in modern times, we see the same pattern. Artists who pour their soul into their work are often misunderstood by those who lack the patience to listen or the skill to understand. Yet the art itself outlasts the noise. Nat King Cole himself endured prejudice and shallow critics, but his songs—“Unforgettable,” “Mona Lisa,” “The Christmas Song”—still echo across generations. The talkers faded into silence, but the singer’s truth became eternal.

The lesson is clear: judge less, create more. Do not waste your breath proclaiming expertise where you have none. If you would know music—or any art—approach it with humility, with listening, with practice. The true masters are not those who speak the most, but those who live their craft until it speaks for them. Let your work, not your words, bear witness to your understanding.

So, O seekers of wisdom, learn from Cole’s insight. When you hear voices chattering loudly, pause and ask: do they speak from knowledge, or from emptiness? And when you are tempted to speak of things you do not yet know, remember that the noblest act is not to boast, but to learn.

Thus remember always: the voice of truth is found not in endless talk, but in song, in craft, in quiet mastery. The chatter of the ignorant fades quickly, but the music of the wise endures forever. Be not among the talkers—be among the creators, and your voice will echo across the ages.