By Tom Robotham
Musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten. ~ Plato, The Republic.
Lately, for a variety of reasons, I’ve been thinking a lot about music. It’s part of my job description, for one thing. Among the classes I teach at Old Dominion University is one called Music, Culture & Media—a consideration of how developments in technology and culture have changed the ways in which music is produced, distributed and consumed.
The second reason I’ve been thinking about it is that I recently began a daily regimen of piano practice. I learned to play the piano when I was 5 years old, and while I never mastered the instrument I did eventually find deep satisfaction in playing Bach’s Two-Part Inventions, some of the easier movements of Beethoven’s Sonatas, some Chopin Preludes, and other classical pieces. But seven years ago, after downsizing to a one-bedroom apartment, I had to leave my piano behind. Last year I decided I enough was enough, so I went out and purchased a Yamaha digital with 88 weighted keys. I didn’t want to break the bank on this new piano but I wanted it to be decent quality. If you feel the same way then here’s a post from daniel mentioning some decent budget pianos you could look at. With my new piano, I was able to play but it wasn’t until recently that I found the discipline to practice methodically every day.
Third, I’ve been spending a lot more time at home lately, listening to music on vinyl, CD and MP3. Although I love vinyl, my favorite ritual in recent weeks has been kicking back in the late evening with a scotch on the rocks and putting on a wildly eclectic play list on an old iPod that I keep plugged into my living room stereo. There lots of additions you can make to your listening equipment, for example Graham Slee HiFis phono preamps
to improve your listening experience. It begins with my favorite track from The Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore East—“In Memory of Elizabeth Reed”—and moves on through songs and instrumentals by Dar Williams, Bach, The Decemberists, Jim Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Guster, Art Blakey, Beethoven and dozens of other artists. Sometimes I play it in order, sometimes on shuffle, which adds a wonderful element of surprise. The music industry is always changing. As everyone has an opinion, some will say this is for the better and others will say it has changed in the worst way. With the decline of CD sales over the years in music, at least there are companies like VDC Group’s cd duplication services offer the solution of holding music on CDs. Whether it is for promotional purposes or anything else, at least physical music still lives on. Maybe think again when you decide to decline the offer of purchasing someone’s mix-tape that they offer you in town.
Finally, I’ve been reading a lot about it. Among the books I can’t recommend highly enough are Musicophilia, by Oliver Sacks; The World in Six Songs and This is Your Brain on Music, by Daniel J. Levitin, How Music Works, by David Byrne, and The Triumph of Music, by Tim Blanning.
Reflecting on all four experiences—reading, teaching, playing and the listening—I’m struck not only by the power of music but by something I regard as nothing less than a societal tragedy: the degree to which music has become marginalized and trivialized in American society.
That might sound like an odd statement. Music, after all, is everywhere—on the Internet, in film and television soundtracks, on videogames, and on sound systems in many public environments. We hear music whether we like it or not. But how often do we really listen to it. Music, in spite of its pervasiveness—or perhaps because it—is often reduced to the aural equivalent of wallpaper.
The marginalization is reflected as well in our education system. While many elementary and secondary schools still have music programs, our education policymakers as a rule regard music education as a “frill.” Something that’s nice but not necessary in the way that training in English, math and science are.
The roots of this attitude run deep into our history. Mainstream Americans society has always placed a premium on “practicality.” We want our education to have “cash value,” as William James put it. Training in reading, writing and ‘rithmetic has obvious cash value. All are required for most jobs and for the management of a household. But what good is music? It’s just entertainment, right?
Well, not really. Exploration of the history of music suggests just the opposite: that music is as fundamental to the human condition as food, sex, and language. Indeed, there is archaeological evidence that making music pre-dated the development of spoken language. As Levitin puts it in The World in Six Songs,” “There is no known culture now or anytime in the past that lacks it, and some of the oldest human-made artifacts found at archaeological sites are musical instruments. Levitin goes on to argue that “music has been a shaping force” in the development of human nature.
If Levitin is right—and it seems clear to me that he is—shouldn’t music education have a more central role in our society? After all, what could be important than understanding how we became who we are, as a species?
Alas, there are so many forces that work against this idea. For one thing we have become a highly visual culture, and one result of this has been the erosion of our capacity to listen. Moreover, we are a highly distracted society, as I noted in my essay that appeared in this space last month. (The distractions in my own life explain why I neglected my piano for so long. In so doing, I’ve come to realize, I was neglecting my soul.)
There are also developments in musical culture itself that have undermined musical literacy. Think about it: Before the invention of the record player, people who wanted music in their home had to make it. The parlor piano was an important component of the middle-class home. By the early 20th century, though, it was possible to have Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony playing in your living room. The incentive to learn to read music and play it on an instrument was suddenly diminished.
And yet, I wouldn’t want to go back to the era before recordings existed. The record player—and the radio, of course—broadened people’s musical horizons immeasurably. Without it, most people never would have heard Beethoven—or perhaps even heard of him. And certainly, most of us would never have heard the Beatles. Meditating on my iPod play list, I’m struck by how recorded music not only gives us access to an unlimited volume and variety of music but allows us to listen over and over and over again until the pieces become part of our bones—integrated with the very fibers of our beings.
But learning to read music and to play it on an instrument is of fundamental importance as well. A lot of other people have made this case, of course, but all too often they tend to do so in ways that ironically reinforce the notion that music is of secondary importance. Music educators argue, for example, that learning music theory and the skills to apply it—to make music—can improve cognitive function, particularly in math.
That’s all well and good, but the important point is that music has enormous value in and of itself. It can fire the imagination; it can magnify joy, and it can comfort us in times of grief. In short, it can enrich the soul. And all of the power of all these effects is increased immeasurably when one knows how to read notation and play an instrument, even at an elementary level. I cannot play my favorite piece of music on the piano—Bach’s Goldberg Variations. It is too difficult (for now). But my stumbling efforts to play Bach’s Two-Part Inventions have enabled me to hear the “Goldbergs” more deeply and intensely. I cannot execute the passages, but I can better understand and appreciate them.
With all of this in mind, it seems to me that the trivialization and marginalization of music in our society reflects a kind of spiritual crisis—a lack of soul. There are other cultural developments that contribute to this crisis as well—notably, our detachment from the natural world. And the two go hand in hand—for the harmony of music mirrors the harmony of nature.
I hope that I live to see the day when our education system embraces this, and makes music as important a part of the curriculum as math, science, history and the language arts. But I’m not holding my breath. For now, I’ll just say that I’m thankful for two things: first, that I made music an integral part of my children’s education at home when they were growing up, and second, that I have so much of it at my own disposal—not to mention the gift of music literacy that my mother gave me when I was a child. Music has not only fed my soul in solitary hours; it has been the point of initial connection with many people whom I’ve grown to love.
By contrast, when, on occasion, I meet people for whom music is of little importance, it’s unlikely that we’ll ever be close. As Shakespeare put it in The Merchant of Venice, “the man who hath no music in himself, / Nor is moved with concord of sweet sounds, / Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; / The motions of his spirit are dull as night / And his affections dark as Erebus. / Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.”
The same can be said of an entire society that does not give music the prominence it deserves—or uses music primarily to try to sell you stuff, or subliminally manipulate your emotions for other purposes. The only antidote to this insidiousness is to more fully embrace music for what it can be: the ultimate expression of our yearnings.
