Music and Ethical Responsibility. By Jeff R. Warren. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. [x, 205 p. ISBN 9781107043947 (hardcover), $90; ISBN 9781107358287 (e-book, Cambridge Books Online).] Music examples, illustrations, bibliography, index. Although bubbling nearly surface, in retrospect ethical goals of new musicological critiques have perhaps been under-articulated: surely central point of their critiques was that positivist musicology and theory and analysis were in some sense unethical or amoral, and that, once replaced, a more just musical-academic society would emerge. After exhaustion--or absorption--of new musicology, however, most music academics seem have declined articulate ethical foundations of their scholarship. As musicologists and theorists search for ways forward after hermeneutic critiques of new musicology, phenomenological approaches music present an attractive area for further research, promising take individuals' experiences of music seriously, locate meaning in those experiences, harness power of philosophy for addressing concerns, and, as expressed by Jeff R. Warren in Music and Ethical Responsibility, install ethics at center of experience. Warren's stated aim is argue that musical involves with others, and ethical responsibilities arise from these encounters (p. 1). This Levinasian thesis should lead Warren display his interactions with music and others or as an other by describing these experiences. Emmanuel Levinas's most fundamental argument is that all of my is ethical because it most fundamentally involves with others--to whom I am beholden and limitlessly subordinate, whom I show concern and care in an asymmetrical relation of giftgiving, alterity of whom 1 cannot absorb into myself--which displaces metaphysics as foundation for philosophy and instead establishes ethics in that foundational role. Part of beauty of phenomenological discourses is their ability describe experiences, descriptions which do much of intellectual work of argumentation, through evocation, through searching out unheard. Following Levinas, Warren's argument should unfold by describing many of ways in which unfolds ethically for him. But we must wait until pages 104 107 hear what experiences sound like for Warren. scene is a small jazz gig at a corporate gathering during which Warren plays double bass for standard The Blue Room. We would expect Warren's description of this unfold, in a Levinasian reading, from his with either music-as-other, his bandmates-as-others, or audience-as-other, and emphasize slippages and irreducibility of this encounter, music's strangeness, whence arrives its lesson: I am not knowable, thus you must respond ethically, with hospitality and yet distance afforded stranger. His own acts of analytical writing, too, might be placed under pressure, as they fail--yet wonderfully--to capture his fleeting experiences with quintessentially temporal art form. But Warren's description--by his own (p. 104 n. 10)--dispenses with messiness of any actual improvised experience, and instead reconstructs an idealized performance with him at its center. Warren undertakes such a reconstruction in order to make description of improvisation reflect lived of improvisation, instead of relying on a theoretical ideal of what improvisation is, but he admits that his account is fictional (p. 107), which we might normally take be, precisely, theoretical--that which is not experiential. Indeed, we discover that Warren's concern is not with any inimitable, non-repeatable experiences of music, but rather with what he calls the experience of music. This locution updates the ear as seat of cognition and knowledge of music, but at cost, I would argue, of a phenomenology that can do justice what must surely be Warren's own complexity of and that can serve as foundation for a Levinasian reading of ethics. …