Much has been discussed and written related to the problems of the music performance major in colleges and universities. Presenting an argument for the performance major based on employment statistics is futile and it is the responsibility of parents, counselors, advisers, and teachers to be clear on the job prospects of making a living in the area of musical performance. While it is difficult to examine the data, most studies seem to point to less than 5% of performance majors succeeding in their field beyond college. As small colleges seek to define their degree offerings, it must be noted that large conservatory type of experiences are also recognizing the job futility of the music performance major. From a purely pragmatic standpoint, it begs the question why the degree exists at all. Yet there is more to the story.
A college degree was never intended as a vocational training certificate for employment. Although there is plenty of justification for such a concept and many opportunities for such training, a college degree, particularly in classic liberal arts environments, is intended for broad-based philosophical experiences leading to white collar positions of leadership, teaching, medicine, sciences, writing, and the list continues. Granted the performance degree is considered more of a professional degree than it is a liberal arts degree, the delivery of the degree falls within the scope of most liberal arts institutions in that the requirements include a General Education core of classes outside of the music offerings. A student learns how to perform on a given instrument or voice but also learns basic other knowledge applicable to a variety of careers.
Given the economic challenges of employing the sheer number of performance majors that exist in our colleges and universities today, how can we continue to encourage or even justify the pursuit of such a credential? There may have been a time in history when the number of performance majors only slightly exceeded the number of full-time positions available, but that time is in the far past and to claim otherwise is to be unaware of the current musical dynamic. This does not mean there are few positions in music available after graduation, but, sadly, most of them are not within the design of curriculum pursued in the performance major. In other words, students may be preparing for a world that no longer exists, at least in the forms of the past. Why do we have the degree?
The answer lies in the rather nebulous but certainly valued concept of discipline. The pursuit of excellence in any field requires discipline that is relentless, unswerving, focused, and directed. In the military, discipline is demanded through cleanliness, precision, timing, and expectations. In sports, individual discipline serves the team through reaction time, perception, dedication to the goals, and the ability to make quick and decisive decisions. There are few skills more applicable to all areas than is the skill of discipline, fortitude, and stamina. It is through discipline that we learn to excel, to grow, and to achieve at a high level, reaching great heights of success and battling through the difficult and often bumpy road of life.
The pursuit of musical excellence demands personal discipline that includes individual practice, collective rehearsals, and cognitive study. Practice involves hours each day for many years in order to reach a level of excellence that is both competitive with other performers and expressively satisfying to listeners. Such achievement requires complete mastery of all technical demands such as notes, rhythms, dynamics, articulations, phrasing, and musical sensitivity. The hard work demanded from performance majors takes on significant proportions in relation to many other majors. While we all enjoy hearing a great performer on a stage, we must also be mindful of the years of dedicated effort to reach such musical artistry. Such mastery does not come easy and musical accomplishments, while mixed with talent, are the result of disciplined application of excellence over a period of many years.
But ability aside, and knowing the difficulty of earning a living as a professional performing musician, how does the performance major benefit the person? The answer lies in the pursuit of excellence through discipline as being transferable to other areas and professions. The act of total dedication to excellence, working out difficult passages, blending artistry with technical challenges, learning large amounts of literature, and preparing for performance forces a person's will and stamina to work together for a goal. For some that results in opportunities to perform in public and to make a living as a professional musician. For others that could mean using the fortitude it took to master a skill and turning that ability into something in business, medicine, law, the sciences, while maintaining the love of music.
In a recent graduation speech, Jim Carrey encouraged students to pursue their dreams and love what they do. In contrast, another speaker disagreed, admonishing people to pursue a discipline where they can find success. Somewhere in both these ideas, lies the truth for most people. Here are some links arguing for each side:
http://www.fastcompany.com/3026272/leadership-now/the-secrets-to-career-contentment-dont-follow-your-passion
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cal-newport/follow-your-passion-is-bizarre_b_4350869.html
http://www.businessinsider.com/andreessen-whatever-you-do-dont-follow-your-passion-2014-5
http://elitedaily.com/life/motivation/the-10-reasons-you-should-follow-your-passion-and-not-the-money/
Follow your passion completely but keep a plan B in mind that will still allow you to use your love in some kind of way. Mostly, apply yourself fully to the task and use relentless discipline to achieve excellence in all endeavors.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Applied Music Teaching
The concept of apprenticeships has existed in history since the beginning of time when children were taught by their parents and eventually studied a craft or skill with a master. Identifying an interest or a talent is the first step followed by seeking out a teacher to help hone the skills and develop a young discipline into the next master. In movies we see great examples of this in Karate Kid, in Return of the Jedi, in Back to the Future, and in Rocky. During the Olympics we watched teacher after teacher remind students what to do and how to approach the event. We know many young builders working with master craftsmen to build houses, buildings, and entire communities. It is the teaching process and the benefits of individual learning cannot be overstated. One could argue that the classroom experience is but a shadow of the gain that could and does take place in individual instruction. While there is certainly something positive about collective experiences as well as community learning, every opportunity for one to one learning should applied due to its extensive gain.
This idea is especially true in music learning where a student seeks out a master musician to learn how to be a better musician with a measure of independence while reflecting the excellence of the teacher. Prior to the growth of the academy, young musicians found experienced musicians and sat at their feet learning how to be a performer, composer, leader. Dating back to the middle ages, Guilmant Machaut had students as did Giovanni Palestrina in the Renaissance. Johann S. Bach taught students throughout his illustrious career and we often read about Beethoven's harsh treatment of his students. With the growth of the acclaimed virtuoso, we find disciples of pianists, violinists, flautists, and many great singers beginning in the 18th century and growing rapidly into the 19th century.
The 20th century continued the idea of apprenticeships, professional training, and applied teaching in the academy. A precursory study of the teachers at the Paris Conservatory reveals a list strong in composition, theory, organ, piano and voice but slight in brass, woodwind, and percussion. A closer look, however, does reveal several teachers on various instruments but there is suspicion, albeit without evidence, that these teachers were both performers and teachers without full-time positions at the conservatory. Obviously respected as performers, students desired to learn from them through the Paris Conservatory system, and the Conservatory obliged by providing individualized instruction for the students.
This is a solid educational ideal and one that has withstood the test of time as an educational system. Individualized instruction is strong and is an essential part of becoming a master at a given task. Becoming a performing musician must include individualized instruction as a part of the training as a way to emulate a master while defining one's own style and expression. Students benefit from the careful attention and teachers generally enjoy the opportunity to send a discipline into the world of musical performance.
But a closer look at the economic problems of such a design begins to crumble in the face of reality. Studying with an individual is economically troubling for an institution concerned about efficiency, salaries, benefits, and mass production. Because the heritage of music training involves a heavy set of courses in applied music, institutions find themselves in a predicament of employing teachers working with very few students over the course of a semester. Compared to large classrooms of 30, 60, 90 or, in some cases, hundreds of students, applied individualized instruction in music is very costly. While the gain is in the level of instruction and the opportunity to reach students in ways that large classes cannot, at the same time, there is no questioning the economic burden that individualized instruction places on an institution.
Schools often rely on adjunct instruction to off-set the costs associated with applied teaching usually resulting in less loyalty to the school and potential resentment by the teacher. Admittedly, often adjunct teachers are currently "practitioners" in the field of music performance and can provide teaching insights that are current and relevant, which ironically contributes to the rise of adjunct instruction. Quality instruction (and its antithesis) is true regardless of the employment status of the teacher. That said, full-time faculty, accreditation issues aside, fulfill greater roles in the life of a university than do part-time faculty due to committee work, service to the institution, and research. Now we arrive at the opportunity--is it entirely fair to an institution to compensate a full-time wage to an instructor who teaches very few students during the course of a semester? If not, how do we maintain the tradition and integrity of the applied teaching experience while presenting an economically viable instructional model?
It will require a new model of teaching and one that will probably need to include technology, group instruction, reduced face to face time, altered performance expectations, and significant motivation of the student. It may also require rethinking the requirements for individual achievement as related to different degree programs. Web resources continue to multiply and not to take advantage of public domain sheet music, video instruction, curriculum lists, repertoire ideas, and nearly unlimited teaching techniques is to ignore a vibrant world of music education. Other possibilities include video conferencing, recorded files, and chat rooms. Applied teachers may need to consider ways to teach more students during the course of a week or two weeks without adding hours to the teaching time. Students will need to glean more and apply the lessons diligently, being thoroughly prepared for each lesson and benefit from the limited time or collective experience. These ideas and more will need to be embraced by institutions and individual teachers if the applied lesson is to remain as a teaching concept over time.
Those students demonstrating a need for individual instruction may need to pay more for that privilege or teachers may need to understand the institutional economic challenge of individualized instruction. Although nobody wishes to see a decline in quality of instruction nor quality of performance, there is little doubt that the historical model of one teacher for 12 to 18 students per semester is unsustainable for most schools carefully examining revenues and expenses. The institutions that demonstrate financial savings while increasing quality instruction will be the ones with the competitive edge. Such a concept will require taking a risk, carefully assessing the results, and maintaining the enthusiasm for teaching and learning.
This idea is especially true in music learning where a student seeks out a master musician to learn how to be a better musician with a measure of independence while reflecting the excellence of the teacher. Prior to the growth of the academy, young musicians found experienced musicians and sat at their feet learning how to be a performer, composer, leader. Dating back to the middle ages, Guilmant Machaut had students as did Giovanni Palestrina in the Renaissance. Johann S. Bach taught students throughout his illustrious career and we often read about Beethoven's harsh treatment of his students. With the growth of the acclaimed virtuoso, we find disciples of pianists, violinists, flautists, and many great singers beginning in the 18th century and growing rapidly into the 19th century.
The 20th century continued the idea of apprenticeships, professional training, and applied teaching in the academy. A precursory study of the teachers at the Paris Conservatory reveals a list strong in composition, theory, organ, piano and voice but slight in brass, woodwind, and percussion. A closer look, however, does reveal several teachers on various instruments but there is suspicion, albeit without evidence, that these teachers were both performers and teachers without full-time positions at the conservatory. Obviously respected as performers, students desired to learn from them through the Paris Conservatory system, and the Conservatory obliged by providing individualized instruction for the students.
This is a solid educational ideal and one that has withstood the test of time as an educational system. Individualized instruction is strong and is an essential part of becoming a master at a given task. Becoming a performing musician must include individualized instruction as a part of the training as a way to emulate a master while defining one's own style and expression. Students benefit from the careful attention and teachers generally enjoy the opportunity to send a discipline into the world of musical performance.
But a closer look at the economic problems of such a design begins to crumble in the face of reality. Studying with an individual is economically troubling for an institution concerned about efficiency, salaries, benefits, and mass production. Because the heritage of music training involves a heavy set of courses in applied music, institutions find themselves in a predicament of employing teachers working with very few students over the course of a semester. Compared to large classrooms of 30, 60, 90 or, in some cases, hundreds of students, applied individualized instruction in music is very costly. While the gain is in the level of instruction and the opportunity to reach students in ways that large classes cannot, at the same time, there is no questioning the economic burden that individualized instruction places on an institution.
Schools often rely on adjunct instruction to off-set the costs associated with applied teaching usually resulting in less loyalty to the school and potential resentment by the teacher. Admittedly, often adjunct teachers are currently "practitioners" in the field of music performance and can provide teaching insights that are current and relevant, which ironically contributes to the rise of adjunct instruction. Quality instruction (and its antithesis) is true regardless of the employment status of the teacher. That said, full-time faculty, accreditation issues aside, fulfill greater roles in the life of a university than do part-time faculty due to committee work, service to the institution, and research. Now we arrive at the opportunity--is it entirely fair to an institution to compensate a full-time wage to an instructor who teaches very few students during the course of a semester? If not, how do we maintain the tradition and integrity of the applied teaching experience while presenting an economically viable instructional model?
It will require a new model of teaching and one that will probably need to include technology, group instruction, reduced face to face time, altered performance expectations, and significant motivation of the student. It may also require rethinking the requirements for individual achievement as related to different degree programs. Web resources continue to multiply and not to take advantage of public domain sheet music, video instruction, curriculum lists, repertoire ideas, and nearly unlimited teaching techniques is to ignore a vibrant world of music education. Other possibilities include video conferencing, recorded files, and chat rooms. Applied teachers may need to consider ways to teach more students during the course of a week or two weeks without adding hours to the teaching time. Students will need to glean more and apply the lessons diligently, being thoroughly prepared for each lesson and benefit from the limited time or collective experience. These ideas and more will need to be embraced by institutions and individual teachers if the applied lesson is to remain as a teaching concept over time.
Those students demonstrating a need for individual instruction may need to pay more for that privilege or teachers may need to understand the institutional economic challenge of individualized instruction. Although nobody wishes to see a decline in quality of instruction nor quality of performance, there is little doubt that the historical model of one teacher for 12 to 18 students per semester is unsustainable for most schools carefully examining revenues and expenses. The institutions that demonstrate financial savings while increasing quality instruction will be the ones with the competitive edge. Such a concept will require taking a risk, carefully assessing the results, and maintaining the enthusiasm for teaching and learning.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Writing about music
Throughout my education and into my career, I have read an untold number of books and essays on music. But aside from informational type of writing such as biographies, analytical descriptions, historical perspectives, lists, scientific properties, and cultural impact, none has ever been satisfactory. Let's take a quick look at some descriptions of Beethoven's 5th symphony. The power, concentration and white-hot compression of Beethoven's music is staggering. The first movement creates its tumultuous organic chemistry of interrelationships from the atomic particles of the notes it started with; in different guises, the four-note rhythmic idea permeates the rest of the symphony as well; then comes the elaborate variations of the slow movement, and its teeming effulgence of string writing that is a lyrical, long-breathed structural counterpoint to the first movement's explosive fragments (http://www.theguardian.com/music/tomserviceblog/2013/sep/16/symphony-guide-beethoven-fifth-tom-service--accessed 5/10/2014).
Here is another from January 1, 1841: Beethoven’s symphony in C minor had closed the programme. Let us be silent! How often we hear it in public, but also in our deepest self, and how it projects its force upon all people of all ages, just like the great natural phenomena, which leave us in awe every time they appear. This symphony alike, will still resound centuries to come, for as long as there will be man and music (http://www.all-about-beethoven.com/symphony5.html--accessed 5/12/2014).
Such is also true of writings on popular music or even film music. Here is a review and fairly critical description of the music from The Alamo: The majority is made up of a score that has its stirring moments (like "General Santa Anna"), but often drags along in an impersonation of the almost 200-minute film. The touches of old west/Mexican flavor are also relatively effective, yet completely typical and not very original. Fans of The Alamo or Wayne -- who as Crockett contributes one other melodrama-steeped monologue -- should find some interest in this soundtrack. But its hit singles are available elsewhere, and Tiomkin's score hasn't aged very well (http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-alamo-original-soundtrack-mw0000199761--accessed 5/14/2014). This brief description includes factual information but also tries to impose subjective opinion on the reader. Such is true of most descriptions of music.
Why is it so difficult to write about the actual sound that we call music? Why do words seem inadequate to describe the experience of hearing music and give it actual meaning? Is it due to the personal nature of sound which causes individual interpretation? When we listen to music or even when we apply meaning to any sound, we bring our interests, concepts, and experience to the table and search for meaning to what we have heard. As I was completing the previous sentence, I sneezed. Since nobody heard it (and, yes, it really did make a sound!), I was not subjected to the inevitable "Bless You" or concern about a possible illness or allergies. The sound is usually quickly interpreted, meaning given to it, and causes a variety of emotions from people. Such is true of all sound.
Thinking through this I realize that music, by its subjective nature, cannot be described adequately nor universally. This does not make such efforts futile but, rather, reminds us that emotional descriptions of sound are, indeed, personal and driven by individual human responses. Yes there are many collective responses to sound apart from the association generally ascribed to particular sounds, but on deeper introspection, sound and music become personal without broad social generalities. Group think influences aside, the very properties of music require individual ascription which, unfortunately, negates successful writing about the subject. Most writings on music, as mentioned earlier, fall into rhetorical hyperbole meant to elicit similar emotional reactions to the writer.
If I write that "the soaring melody of the song Stardust lifts the listener to a sublime atmospheric state that is powered by harmonic invention, tension and repose, and merges naturally to a text that is inspiring, noble, and poetic," then I write from my own perspective and seek to convince the reader not only of my experience but also to encourage a similar view. Such is true of most descriptions of sound. We cannot objectively describe sound without invoking an emotion attached to the sound, and the emotion is personal and individual.
This, however, does not mean we should stop trying to write about music. On the contrary, this very element gives music and its descriptions greater curiosity and interest. Although emotional responses to sound and to music remain subjective, their very qualities make them ironically valued. Objectively inadequate at best, it is still wonderfully colorful to read about music, listen to music, describe music, and give it meaning.This is probably why music will continue to be a vital part of the human experience.
Here is another from January 1, 1841: Beethoven’s symphony in C minor had closed the programme. Let us be silent! How often we hear it in public, but also in our deepest self, and how it projects its force upon all people of all ages, just like the great natural phenomena, which leave us in awe every time they appear. This symphony alike, will still resound centuries to come, for as long as there will be man and music (http://www.all-about-beethoven.com/symphony5.html--accessed 5/12/2014).
Such is also true of writings on popular music or even film music. Here is a review and fairly critical description of the music from The Alamo: The majority is made up of a score that has its stirring moments (like "General Santa Anna"), but often drags along in an impersonation of the almost 200-minute film. The touches of old west/Mexican flavor are also relatively effective, yet completely typical and not very original. Fans of The Alamo or Wayne -- who as Crockett contributes one other melodrama-steeped monologue -- should find some interest in this soundtrack. But its hit singles are available elsewhere, and Tiomkin's score hasn't aged very well (http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-alamo-original-soundtrack-mw0000199761--accessed 5/14/2014). This brief description includes factual information but also tries to impose subjective opinion on the reader. Such is true of most descriptions of music.
Why is it so difficult to write about the actual sound that we call music? Why do words seem inadequate to describe the experience of hearing music and give it actual meaning? Is it due to the personal nature of sound which causes individual interpretation? When we listen to music or even when we apply meaning to any sound, we bring our interests, concepts, and experience to the table and search for meaning to what we have heard. As I was completing the previous sentence, I sneezed. Since nobody heard it (and, yes, it really did make a sound!), I was not subjected to the inevitable "Bless You" or concern about a possible illness or allergies. The sound is usually quickly interpreted, meaning given to it, and causes a variety of emotions from people. Such is true of all sound.
Thinking through this I realize that music, by its subjective nature, cannot be described adequately nor universally. This does not make such efforts futile but, rather, reminds us that emotional descriptions of sound are, indeed, personal and driven by individual human responses. Yes there are many collective responses to sound apart from the association generally ascribed to particular sounds, but on deeper introspection, sound and music become personal without broad social generalities. Group think influences aside, the very properties of music require individual ascription which, unfortunately, negates successful writing about the subject. Most writings on music, as mentioned earlier, fall into rhetorical hyperbole meant to elicit similar emotional reactions to the writer.
If I write that "the soaring melody of the song Stardust lifts the listener to a sublime atmospheric state that is powered by harmonic invention, tension and repose, and merges naturally to a text that is inspiring, noble, and poetic," then I write from my own perspective and seek to convince the reader not only of my experience but also to encourage a similar view. Such is true of most descriptions of sound. We cannot objectively describe sound without invoking an emotion attached to the sound, and the emotion is personal and individual.
This, however, does not mean we should stop trying to write about music. On the contrary, this very element gives music and its descriptions greater curiosity and interest. Although emotional responses to sound and to music remain subjective, their very qualities make them ironically valued. Objectively inadequate at best, it is still wonderfully colorful to read about music, listen to music, describe music, and give it meaning.This is probably why music will continue to be a vital part of the human experience.
Monday, May 12, 2014
High School Yearbooks
Cleaning out our storage building as we anticipate relocating soon, I came across my old high school yearbooks. Surprised they were there due to my thinking they had been discarded, I glanced through them with vague interest. I recall walking around asking friends and even those I did not know well to sign them. Girls tended to write long, sweet, and somewhat personal notes while boys would sign only or perhaps offer some pithy saying meant to be philosophically profound. Sadly, I remembered very few of the people in the yearbook and as I glanced at the pictures of teams, organizations, campus events, teachers, and other students, none of it meant anything to me. Other than the emotion that I did not have to relive my high school years again, I wondered why we have yearbooks at all.
Not that it wasn't fun to see my friends of those years looking thin, healthy, vibrant, eager to conquer the world that awaits them. Seeing faces from the past and looking at all the groups made me a little nostalgic but not for high school but more out of curiosity about the people. Careers? Family? Health? Location? I do hope the best for everyone and I hope life has been great for them. I myself had a great time singing in choir, playing in band, playing chess on the chess club, staying active in church, playing sports rather averagely, hiking, camping, fishing, and dancing very poorly.
I suppose yearbooks provide a historical record and memories of the past. But there is a danger they pose as well. High school seen as a chapter in the extensive book of living is the correct perspective and yearbooks provide that very chapter. Activities aside, it is the people that made a profound difference in those years and it is the people that continue to impact our lives in so many significant ways. But a yearbook seen in terms of the activities has little value other than to provide good or sometimes bad memories of successes or disappointments during the the high school years. Because we all need affirmation occasionally, it is agreeably beneficial to reflect on the successful activities of the past. And, further, because we all learn from failure, it is also agreeably beneficial to take a few moments to examine the events where success was but a dream and the life lesson came later.
The danger comes in relying on the past as the primary mirror of one's life accomplishments. I have an acquaintance who was a highly regarded and recognized football player in high school. He was fast, strong, and led his team to victories while earning individual medals for his athletic prowess. It was a high time in his life, but unfortunately he had trouble moving forward from there. 40 years later he admitted that he remembers the glory days but noted that his medals now reside in a trunk unseen, neglected, and no longer valued. Did his past shape his future in a positive way or did it define him and ultimately hurt him?
Reflecting further on high school, I realize those were great times (most of the time) and I am happy to have a record of the past. But for me, I choose to avoid the trappings of living in the past, and, instead, I insist on a life that progresses forward. Smiling at the yearbooks, enjoying the moment, thinking of the people and the activities of high school, I shut the books, box them up, and shrug off yesterday. It is today that counts and it is for tomorrow that I plan. Goodbye yearbooks, thanks for the moments of reflection.
Not that it wasn't fun to see my friends of those years looking thin, healthy, vibrant, eager to conquer the world that awaits them. Seeing faces from the past and looking at all the groups made me a little nostalgic but not for high school but more out of curiosity about the people. Careers? Family? Health? Location? I do hope the best for everyone and I hope life has been great for them. I myself had a great time singing in choir, playing in band, playing chess on the chess club, staying active in church, playing sports rather averagely, hiking, camping, fishing, and dancing very poorly.
I suppose yearbooks provide a historical record and memories of the past. But there is a danger they pose as well. High school seen as a chapter in the extensive book of living is the correct perspective and yearbooks provide that very chapter. Activities aside, it is the people that made a profound difference in those years and it is the people that continue to impact our lives in so many significant ways. But a yearbook seen in terms of the activities has little value other than to provide good or sometimes bad memories of successes or disappointments during the the high school years. Because we all need affirmation occasionally, it is agreeably beneficial to reflect on the successful activities of the past. And, further, because we all learn from failure, it is also agreeably beneficial to take a few moments to examine the events where success was but a dream and the life lesson came later.
The danger comes in relying on the past as the primary mirror of one's life accomplishments. I have an acquaintance who was a highly regarded and recognized football player in high school. He was fast, strong, and led his team to victories while earning individual medals for his athletic prowess. It was a high time in his life, but unfortunately he had trouble moving forward from there. 40 years later he admitted that he remembers the glory days but noted that his medals now reside in a trunk unseen, neglected, and no longer valued. Did his past shape his future in a positive way or did it define him and ultimately hurt him?
Reflecting further on high school, I realize those were great times (most of the time) and I am happy to have a record of the past. But for me, I choose to avoid the trappings of living in the past, and, instead, I insist on a life that progresses forward. Smiling at the yearbooks, enjoying the moment, thinking of the people and the activities of high school, I shut the books, box them up, and shrug off yesterday. It is today that counts and it is for tomorrow that I plan. Goodbye yearbooks, thanks for the moments of reflection.
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