At the other end of the feeling spectrum – I think it’s more helpful to think of feeling as a single function on an extroverted/introverted spectrum rather than consisting of two different functions – is Fi. I’m outside-looking-in on this one, but thankfully music makes this one easy to comprehend.
Fi generally
Fi users tend to find how they feel about something within themselves; they generate feelings naturally and won’t lose their identity in the crowd. Although there are many paths to seeming like an individual, Fi is the function most associated with individuality.
What Fi values in music – Authenticity
Like I see Fe and Fi as ends of a spectrum, I’ve chosen these value words to also be on a spectrum. Fe’s relatability focus will keep asking if a song is connecting with the group. Fi’s authenticity focus will keep asking if a song is connecting with the artist or performer. Note that, just like Fi isn’t selfish for checking in on the self first, Fi music isn’t self-centered for prioritizing authenticity, and it’s not insular either. Many Fi songs/artists are quite popular. But whether that authenticity connects with people is a byproduct of quality, not a focus. Any artist releasing to the public wants somebody to relate to it; expressing that in the art or not is an Fe-Fi choice.
Where Fi is most obvious in songwriting is in lyrics. Fi-centered music is the home of raw confessionals, and they’re more likely to be framed in terms of the singer’s own experiences. Fe might feel more comfortable creating a character to sing through, or sanitizing some of the story, or combining bits of stories together. Fi is more likely to tell you what happened to the songwriter that one time, without sugarcoating. Why would the Fi user sugarcoat the song when that would interfere with catharsis? Why would the Fi user want to connect to others from something that isn’t genuine? You’ve heard these kinds of sentiments from Fi users outside music; this is how they display inside music.
As far as music composition, I’d peg Fi as a sort of authenticity of upbringing. I’m staying away from cultural authenticity, which is more Fe+Si. What I mean is that the sounds chosen tie into the person in some way. If they grew up in the midwestern United States, then heartland rock is likely authentic to that person. On the other hand, if they grew up in the midwestern United States but felt isolated from that society and found solace in some other music, then that other music is more authentic. It’s about whether the artist’s life to this point means the choices they are making reflect that life. They’re not just trying music styles on like clothing at a department store – their style is already known to fit them.
When Fi is too dominant
Just like unbalanced Fi users can seem angry to the rest of the world, unbalanced Fi music can seem angry to the rest of the world. A lot of lyrics reveal negative attitudes or chips on shoulders, and while some people do want that music, it can come off as all a bit much.
But I think it’s generally well known, and not very interesting, to think about that. The more interesting side to me is the too-much-information side of Fi, the “why are you telling us this?” side. Could the back-and-forth of rap diss tracks not have been settled over some lunch? Has Taylor Swift written about every single one of her relationships? These are questions for paid philosophers; I’m just teeing ‘em up.
Some examples
If excessive Fe results in mush, excessive Fi results in being too sharp – “polarizing” is probably the most-used term. Just like some people find Fe charity get-together songs meaningful, some people relate to what the majority think is way too much Fi. If you feel like the artist has overshared and you might think of less them as a person (or worry if they’re okay), that might be too much Fi. Of course, a lot of those songs will have lyrics that I don’t want to associate with this book or any MBTI type, so I won’t discuss them here.
So the first song I will trot out is definitely polarizing and seemingly too much information, off the Police’s Synchronicity album. But I don’t mean “Every Breath You Take,” which arguably could go here. I mean the Andy Summers weirdo track “Mother,” which Albumism calls “a paranoid fever dream confessional of Mommy issues,” the Quietus calls “a horrendous dirge,” and Rolling Stone calls “corrosively funny.” Andy Summers’s intention appears to be the last of those. Maybe it’s because I grew up hearing this song, but the humor is hard to hear for how painfully transparent the few, repeated lyrics are (it’s sort of got a 12-bar blues structure to the lyrics):
(Verse 1)
Well the telephone is ringing – Is that my mother on the phone?
The telephone is screaming – Won’t she leave me alone?
(Verse 2)
Well every girl that I go out with becomes my mother in the end
Well I hear my mother calling, but I don’t need her as a friend
(Verse 3)
Oh mother dear, please listen, and don’t devour me
Oh women, please have mercy – Let this poor boy be
There’s a lot of screaming at the end of verses as well, like he’s in full torment. Maybe there’s a bit of pantomime in how Andy drew this one up, but as the song is only audio it’s hard to tell. It’s largely just unsettling.
Less unsettling but still in this category to some is Dan Hill’s 1970s ballad “Sometimes When We Touch.” Loads of people feel strongly about it one way or the other, which is definitely something that can happen with unbalanced Fi. In a 2010 article, Dan describes several things about the seemingly way too up close and personal lyrics. The girl he tried to woo with it heard it for the first time and called him “intense” with “a deliberately drawn-out yawn and a martyred sigh.” But years later, people would tell him his song helped open couples up in counseling. The song being as famous as it was saved him from a possible death by police in the Bahamas as well. Reactions have been all over the map to that ballad – but more than anything, they have been strong reactions. If you’ve ever let Fi stand on its own, you might have experienced the same strong gamut.
On the flipside, songs with quality Fi can do a lot of unalloyed good. Fi can be a very kind function when applied to an individual, and songwriting is a great place for meaningful one-on-one interactions. Natalie Merchant is an expert at Fi kindness; her lyrics are filled to the brim with authenticity. Sometimes they can be heavy-handed, but at their best they are packed with meaning. At least in her 10,000 Maniacs days, few of her lyrics rhymed or were blocked into normal chunks; it’s like they just put her diary entries to music, like even conforming to rhyme would blunt the impact. My favorite of these is “Trouble Me,” with some stunning Fi words that I try to remember all the time, such as:
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden when my back is sturdy and strong?
Speak to me – don’t mislead me; the calm I feel means a storm is swelling; there’s no telling where it starts or how it ends
Why are you building this thick brick wall to defend me, when your silence is my greatest fear?
There’s more, honestly, than my sweet friend, you can see
Trust is what I’m offering if you trouble me
It’s raw and it’s real to her, but it also reaches out to someone else because of that. To the extent I’m in touch with my #8 Fi, it’s from songs like this.
Next part: Ne (Extroverted Intuition)
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