Theory and Composition

Colin Holter of New Music Box makes an interesting point in a recent post when he writes that, "our 'instincts' may themselves be nothing more than theory internalized directly through study and indirectly through listening." As someone who often blindly asserts the superiority of "instincts" over "theory," I feel that I owe myself a closer investigation of this statement. First off, let's distinguish between instincts that are acquired unintentionally/subconsciously and those that one actively seeks to ingrain. As Colin's statement implies, you can make most anything habitual/instinctive if you choose to (this, I assume is what he means by the phrase "internalized directly through study"); conversely, some things enter your psyche without your being aware of them, or perhaps even without you wanting them there (i.e. Colin's "indirectly"). But where it is in fact a conscious choice, it is what you choose to internalize and why that are the more intriguing questions. I have never been concerned as much with the question of mechanism ("direct" versus "indirect" or conscious versus subconscious) as with the nature of the subject matter one chooses to deal with and the reasoning underlying this decision.
As raw information to be processed by the intellect, "theory" per se is intrinsically very different from sound or score. Theory contains interpolations and extrapolations from what the composers actually wrote; it embodies the biases of individual theorists; and it always eliminates more possibilities than it enables. What prevents me from writing a dodecaphonic piece is not so much the fact that I possess only a dilettante's understanding of the theory, but the fact that the music that my instincts (whatever their origin) lead me to create does not conform to this very specific criterion. Furthermore, it bears mentioning that I am statistically far less likely to compose a piece that conforms to "total serialism" than to compose a piece that conforms to Schoenberg's "method of composing with 12 tones." This is because Schoenberg's theory is less comprehensive than that of the total serialists, and hence precludes fewer possibilities (interestingly, Schoenberg was known to follow his musical "instincts" rather than his "theory" if there was a perceived conflict between the two at any given moment in the process, which is not true, I don't think, of many who later took up the various offshoots of his idea). By choosing to listen to and perform such music without dabbling in the underlying prescriptive theory, one chooses to deal with some information and not with other information. That is my choice. I don’t view it as “indirect” or “subconscious” study; to the contrary, I have a good ear and I pay close attention to what certain combinations of notes sound like, and if I have any use for them, well, there they are.
A composer who makes a conscious decision to work in a dodecaphonic idiom has also decided not to work in many other idioms. Conversely, by choosing not to be governed by "theory," one chooses to leave many more moment-to-moment sonic possibilities open. The decision not to internalize prescriptive theory is both equally valid and equally consequential as the decision to do so. Colin's statement clarifies an important point, namely that perhaps there is no such thing as not following one's instincts when composing. To be an exceptionally unique and instinctive exponent of this process is not so much a question of the learning process, but a much simpler question about the subject matter one chooses to learn about, the specific intent behind this decision, and the specific effect on one's work.

Duck and Cover

Do you nod off at concerts? Do you find the concert hall to be cold and stale? Do you have trouble sitting still for longer than 30 seconds? Well then this is for you. Watch your head though; the metaphors fly at you quickly from all directions.

Finding the Energy to Make Music

I'm not talking about inspiration or motivation; I'm talking about electricity! A cursory glance around my study reveals that of all the tools I rely on as a musician, only the tuba is exclusively human-powered. The rest? A stereo for listening; a desktop computer and printer for music notation, typing and slow internet access; a laptop computer for recording and fast internet access; and an audio interface, microphone and headphones for recording onto the laptop. I use most if not all of these gadgets for multiple hours each day. When I use them all at once, the room is a sea of blinking lights. It looks like the aliens have finally landed. Add to this the fact that I work in this room almost exclusively at night (meaning that there is always a light on), that I waste untold amounts of paper trying to print out my compositions and running into various printer malfunctions and driver conflicts, and that I log more miles in my car than I'd like to admit (about 400-500 each month; you can't carry a tuba on a bike...or at least you shouldn't). The realities of our collective energy usage should be enough to make a conservationist out of anyone, even musicians. We do tend to be left leaning in general. My mom raised me to be environmentally conscious, so much so that even some of my left leaning friends think I'm a little bit obsessive about this. But we also seem to think that what we do is sooooo very important (yes, I'm especially talking to my fellow composers here) that we can suspend our principles for the sake of our work. Or, perhaps we simply have no choice. I wish I had some reliable statistics and a background in electrical engineering. Anyone with such knowledge care to venture a guess as to how I stack up to the average American in terms of energy use?

The New Avant-Garde

I was at a rehearsal a few weeks ago and one of the musicians said something really deep: "Harmony is the new avant-garde." I've heard people say similar things, but this really seemed to put everything in perspective. Of all the elements music has traditionally been divided into, harmony is indeed the most lacking on commercial radio right now. This helped me make a connection to another issue I'd been thinking about recently, which is that for some time now, there has been a wing of "contemporary" music that maintains that the symphony and concerto are dead forms. Others may go as far as to say this about the symphony orchestra in general, and yes, you'll even hear it uttered occasionally that instruments played by real people are obsolete. For the first time ever, I started to wonder a couple of weeks ago if I really had anything meaningful to contribute as an orchestral composer, or perhaps if it was even still possible to have anything meaningful to contribute as an orchestral composer. I still think the answer is yes, at least to the latter if not the former. But with all the recent talk of "saving" classical music, I started to wonder what position it would put us in if classical music indeed "died." The answer is clear: eventually, the orchestra would be new again. People would forget about it, or be born and raised without knowing it ever existed. Then suddenly, a revival would be upon us. The craze would sweep the country. There would be professional and community groups popping up left and right to capitalize on the opportunity. Well...I'm not betting on this happening, but I think that given the present conditions, there is nowhere to go but up: from now on, the more marginalized the orchestra gets, the cooler it gets. Perhaps the symphony is the new avant-garde.

Mini or Apple?

Question of the day: does or does not Minneapolis have a "scene"? The reason I ask is because of the curious things I hear people say around here. It seems that Joe Schmoe on the street thinks we have a great scene while the musicians think it barely exists. Is this true everywhere or is this unique? Have non-participants simply created the myth of a scene in order to validate their fondness for the area? For my part, I cannot see myself ever making a living working only as a musician in this city, even if we include teaching in the discussion. There are a few paying gigs and a few students; it has bailed me out of some jams for sure, but I perceive a lack of interest, apathy, and often downright hostility towards most of the music I am interested in, even among many fellow musicians, and that includes some pretty mainstream stuff (see my response to a thread at Greg Sandow's blog where I related the story of the reception Bach is getting nowadays). Music is not "in the air" here, despite talk of the great scene. It has been uttered many times within earshot this blogger that the Twin Cities are comparable to a "big city" music scene, that our players stand up to any others, that the improvised music scene here is better than in Chicago, and that we have the "fourth most active" jazz scene in the USA (you can dig that curious claim here. So, without resorting to mere venting, I want to ask anyone from the Twin Cities with an opinion or experience: do we or do we not have a scene on our hands? I want to know who exactly is so "active" here, more active than Dallas, San Francisco, Boston, etc...because it's not me or any of my crew. I also want to know if anyone from other places can corroborate something I was told a few weeks ago, namely that the scene here is so incestuous (even as music scenes go) that touring groups from out of town often don't bother trying to book shows here. Are we truly a Mini Apple, or just mini?

I used to hate marching band...

...when I was in high school. It was always more about marching than band. Our group was small, so there was no concert band, jazz band, pep band, marching band, etc. etc. We were THE band, whatever capacity we may be called upon to serve in. It is a testament to how much I hated marching band that I actually looked forward to the transition to concert band and jazz band, which were often frustrating in their own right. Fast forward to today: I have been seriously digging this. These guys are not so much a marching jazz band as they are a jazz marching band. This is the kind of thing I tend to avoid for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which are my experiences in high school jazz band, but it occurred to me that you could very easily apply this sort of approach with younger students. It could be done without any written music, and could, though I am generally opposed to this, conceivably include popm music from the radio that kids actually like. (although, in truth, when I ask my tuba students what they listen to, they usually say...NOTHING at all!!!) After establishing the program, upperclassmen could teach incoming freshmen their parts each year in sectional rehearsals for any repeated repertoire; the band could also add new pieces and actually have a say in what they would be. This sort of approach could be hugely successful for programs like the one at my high school, which was (1) small, (2) included a huge range of ability levels, and (3) included some supremely talented percussionists who could not read music. Rather than being forced to first read the music and then committ it to memory (few of the kids were equally comfortable doing both of those things), students could teach each other their parts by ear, and even have a hand in picking and arranging the tunes. This would kill several birds with one stone as far as it would challenge all of the students (not just the ones who play in jazz band) to, if not actually improvise, then perform their parts in a less constrained way than they would in concert band (kind of like the Mingus band operated on recordings like Blues and Roots) and would provide an excellent basis for some very basic teaching of theory. Any JHS or HS band directors out there interested in taking this idea up?

The Study: Connecting Non-Music Majors with Applied Instructors

Following up on the comments I've received so far about my study, I want to expand on the idea that public universities could be more proactive in finding ways to offer applied study to the general student body. Here are the considerations: (1) Applied study as a college course is unusually expensive because of the teacher-to-student ratio (1:1) (2) Graduate students who aspire to a college teaching position as applied instructors need to gain relevant experience and to document it in such a way that it makes them more employable Simply opening enrollment in one-on-one lessons as an elective to the entire student body is not feasible for music departments because of the cost and the need to ensure competency in prospective students. Nonetheless, it seems to me that where there are both students looking for lessons and instructors who want to teach them, a solution ought to be possible. The main obstacle is making it "formal." In other words, the graduate students could simply offer to teach non-music majors privately, as they are likely already doing with high school age and younger kids from the community, but this would not necessarily make them more employable in practice: the job descriptions for the positions they aspire to usually contain some statement along the lines of "demonstrated success teaching at the college level," and simply taking on more private students who happen to be enrolled in some college or another, while it may indeed be legitimately valuable to their development as teachers, will not necessarily be recognized by potential employers as a valid substitute for acting as a teaching assistant or adjunct instructor. What I propose is a hybrid system. Instead of enrolling each applied student in lessons for university credit, the teaching assistant would enroll themselves in a 1-credit independent study course with an applied faculty member as their advisor. They would be responsible for recruiting students, scheduling lessons, and setting rates. Free from the financial burden of for-credit applied study, the university could still make two crucial contributions: provide the teaching assistant space to use for teaching (in most cases, a medium-sized practice room would be sufficient), and make the name and contact information for each prospective instructor available to interested non-music majors and the community at large, especially through the course catalog, but also through whatever central administrative unit within the department handles enrollment issues. The teaching assistant's faculty advisor would sit in on the lessons throughout the semester. The total amount of such observation would only need to be commensurate with the number of credits the teaching assistant is enrolled in; this time, however, need not be uniformly distributed, meaning that the advisor could easily work around other commitments. The TA, for their part, would need to ensure that they have or can easily recruit enough students to teach for at least this many hours in a given semester). The advisor would coach the TA, observe their progress throughout the semester, and assign a grade; hence, the TA would not only gain valuable teaching experience but also have it documented on their transcript. The advantages of such a situation over the current one are numerous. Most importantly, it connects supply and demand, which benefits both teacher and student. It also provides the TA with the type of direct supervision and feedback that music education majors are required to receive by way of the student teaching requirement, an equivalent to which does not typically exist in the case of performance degrees outside of the TA system, but which could only be highly beneficial to the performance student. Also, whereas colleges that do allow non-majors to register for lessons typically do so by audition only in order to assure a certain level of competency, the instructor would have the option to accept raw beginners as well, an experience that, while perhaps not directly applicable to their future as instructors at the college level, can only be beneficial and eye-opening overall. There are undoubtedly a few students at every school who have never played an instrument but would like to at least give it a shot casually, and this would create an opportunity for them that does not presently exist in the college environment (piano and guitar are, to my knowledge, the only notable exceptions). Finally, much ink and emotion has been spilled over the fact that music schools (and perhaps colleges in general) do not prepare students for the harsh realities of the “real world.” I have, in fact, heard it suggested numerous times that aspiring performers and composers would be better off majoring in business than in music. Well, here is a chance for students to get in touch with their inner entrepreneur. Although I believe that the college itself essentially has an obligation to fulfill by referring interested non-music majors to prospective instructors, my system is still somewhat dependent on the ability of the prospective teacher to recruit students from both inside and outside of the immediate college environment. This is certainly a demand that is rarely placed on music students, but also one which could only strengthen their pedigree as freelancers. The primary disadvantage here is that the students taught by the TA in this scenario do not receive college credit. It bears mentioning here the unfortunate fact that given the present cost of college credits nationwide, studying an instrument through a college is absurdly expensive in comparison to going through a private instructor or even a music store or independent music school. Before my alma mater switched to a flat-rate credit system, credits were around $270 each. Weekly hour lessons for a 15 week semester were 4 credits, and we were charged an additional fee of several hundred dollars per 2 credits of lessons. I estimated at the time that each lesson was costing nearly $100. Of course, elite musicians who are in high demand do occasionally charge this much or more, and many of the instructors at my school were certainly worthy of being considered as part of this group. On the other hand, one can get lessons from a competent independent instructor for less than half this much (often much less) and I'm assuming that to the students who would be served by my proposal (i.e. non-music majors), the decrease in cost from exorbitant to affordable would far outweigh any decrease in the quality of instruction from world-class to merely competent. Another obstacle I can foresee is the possibility that there are legal problems with a public institution presiding over this kind of system, one where the students are paying the teaching assistant "under the table." On the other hand, the instructor would not be an employee of the school but merely registered for a class. And as mentioned earlier, many graduate students teach independently anyway; could it possibly be illegal for the institution to merely acknowledge that this takes place as long as the income is reported for tax purposes? Finally, it bears mentioning that students tend to be disappointed when turned over to a TA in lieu of a professor as this is often interpreted (and this is probably correct most of the time) to mean that they are viewed as somehow less important. Could this serve as a deterrent to prospective applied students and defeat the purpose of implementing such a system? In a prestigious department, at least, this perception should be easily overcome after the independent study program has been in place for a few years as students will come to realize that they are dealing with instructors who are themselves prepared to assume a professorship. I do, however, think that this system could be implemented quite effectively even where the TA's are undergraduate upperclassmen. I, for one, would have jumped at the chance as a senior in college as I have spent the time immediately following college acclimating myself to the demands of independent private teaching (an activity which most of us performance majors will be taking up at some point whether we initially plan on it or not). This is certainly a topic where I could use some feedback from professors and administrators. Anyone out there?

A (Non-) Tribute to the Tributes

Just as TV and movie producers seem to be running low on ideas these days, it seems like every other new jazz release is a tribute to someone else. Do we really have nothing better to do than worship our elders? Are we all just so smitten with dead guys that we just can't go on without paying homage? Or is this just a marketing ploy? When classical musicians, who have to be at least as desperate as jazz players when it comes to CD sales, need to name drop, all they have to do is program the music of a famous composer. It's not often that one sees albums with titles like "Tribute to Mozart" or "Joe Schmoe Pays Homage to the Total Serialists." I know it's petty, but at the least, I'd rather see more albums with titles like "Marsalis Plays Monk" or "Joe Henderson plays the music of Billy Strayhorn" just to emphasize that we are indeed saluting the music and not the person, as well as that the modern artist is actually making a musical contribution to the album rather than simply trying to ride the coattails of the masters. In jazz, hero worship is often a symptom of dogma. Now that the tribute thing is old news, it seems that artists and promoters feel they have to drop multiple names in order to get our attention. Directions in Music was devoted to the music of John Coltrane AND Miles Davis. Meanwhile, Robin Eubanks pays tribute to four (count 'em, four) trombonists on a single album, as if the relative obscurity of the instrument means that it's foremost exponents are each about a quarter as marketable as those on more visible instruments. And I'll vomit if I hear about another guitar album that makes a pun on "Wes" and "West." I count myself as a fan of each and every one of the artists I've mentioned, whether they are giving or receiving the salute. I myself aspire to record an entire album of Oliver Nelson tunes; I even penned an original entitled "Tribute to Oliver Nelson" at the age of 19. However, I've soured somewhat on this idea because I'm growing weary of all the tributes. Indeed, I've heard the old farts talk as if anything short of dedicating an album to a given major figure is tantamount to spitting on their grave. We need to do away with this line of thinking. After all, dropping names for financial benefit represents a greater level of disrespect than does mere ignorance. The gesture is starting to lose its significance. If we’re going to salute, let’s do it out of genuine reverence for the music of others and organic musical inspiration from within ourselves.

Artificial Acoustics

Had the pleaure of taking in a marimba recital by Nathaniel Bartlett yesterday. He has a very interesting and surprisingly (to me) successful system of creating the iilusion of a larger concert hall. Four speakers are set up surrounding the audience; mics pick up the sound of the instrument, which goes to a computer; the computer adds the reverb and the next thing you know, you're in a large, reverberant room. At first, I thought to myself "How gimmicky" but it actually worked VERY well. Perhaps tuba players will be stealing this technique in the near future as our instruments are also made to sound ideal in larger, more reverberant spaces than are often available. Aside from matters of acoustics, it bears mentioning that Mr. Bartlett showed himself to be a fine player and very intelligent speaker.

Study of Public University Music Programs

Read my study here. Post any thoughts you might have as comments to this thread.

My Name Is Albert Ayler

Saw this short film yesterday as part of the Sound Unseen Festival. Ayler is one of those figures who, despite my best efforts to educate myself about as much music as possible, I still have barely had a chance to listen to at all. Unfortunately, while the movie was exceptionally informative, I still didn't get to hear much music. It serves as a reminder that being an "expert" means listening and digesting a lot of actual music rather than keeping track of biographies. The biographies, after all, are only significant because of the music that the individual made. I need to check out some Ayler.

Musicologists: You Have a Choice to Make

It was long before my time but nonetheless not too terribly long ago that a college course on the history of European classical music would simply have been called "Music History." Somewhere in the intervening time period, Europeans (and Americans) have become more aware, respectful (and in some cases enamored) of musical traditions from other parts of the world, some of which rival the European tradition in age, refinement, or both. In an effort to acknowledge these traditions and the place they occupy in their respective cultures, the textbook used by most university music departments in their history classes now bears the title "A History of Western Music." But by the time it finally caught on, this minor qualification was wholly insufficient, for the United States had become the scene of a musical cross-polinization that would pose even stickier problems. Since that time, jazz, blues, rock, pop, and rap musicians (man, am I going to take some heat for those last two) have all made significant contributions to Westerm music per se, but none are represented adequately in most universities' music degree program curricula. Musicologists have seemingly chosen to lump this vast body of work together, equating jazz with rock with rap, and make no effort to consider works individually, thus precluding the drawing of any distinction between meritorious and superficial works from each area. This is not "Music History" or even "Western Music History"; it is "Western Classical Music History." How uncomfortable it would make these musicologists to sample the far-reaching and vital European contributions to jazz. How enlightening it could be for them to experience a profound musical statement made by an electric guitarist. And how embarrassing it would be to have a genre in the title of their course or textbook (everyone knows genres are, like, so last century). Alas, it seems that they have avoided it as long as they can. Thelonious Monk is very Western and so very musical; to omit his work from any history of Western music is becoming more egregious with each passing day. Multiply this single case by several hundred others, and thus a technicality balloons into a crisis. Hence, to the musicologists out there, I propose two options regarding next year's courses: add an adjective or add a semester.

How do I drive this thing?

This blog will be devoted to all things musical. I will not be discussing what I had for dinner last night or complaining about my friends. If you absolutely must know these things, send me an e-mail or something. I want to use this space for discussion and debate about various musical topics. I am interested in classical music, for one, but this is not a "saving classical music" site. I am working on creating a personal website that will feature a large-scale project of mine that I hope to debate here soon. Stay tuned for that. Until then, read my senseless rants and tell me what you think.