Paper, A
This is not a research paper. I’m not sure what this is, but that uncertainty seems fitting for this semester. Covid-19 continues to loom over our lives as capitalism leverages our fatigue to get us to act against our best interests. Strong recommendations seem to have about the same impact as a speed limit. And then there was Fiona. I only went 14 days without power. I didn’t starve. My life wasn’t in imminent danger. There are plenty of rationalizations I could come up with as to why a relatively simple disruption to my daily routine shouldn’t have any significant impact on my being thanks to years of conditioning to neglect my mental health. I could (and I have) spent hours telling myself it shouldn’t matter, but the effect this storm has had on me is undeniable. From the immediate impact of losing a week of school (and work) to the ongoing anxiety of climate change thanks to billionaires knowingly killing the planet for profit longer than I’ve been alive. But let’s put that all aside and write something. Not a research paper, though.
The events of this fall have primed me to think about what is important and what isn’t. When given the opportunity to question tradition, especially tradition established to reinforce white supremacist ideology, I’m going to go all in. That doesn’t mean I’m necessarily equipped to thoroughly tackle such a question, especially within a truncated semester. What should students of a music program learn about music history? What are the most important composers, pieces, dates to young performers/scholars? What is most important to me?
I don’t know what the answer is. As I approach the midpoint of my second year at UPEI, I am still developing a sense of what is expected of me to be considered successful. I am constantly at odds, passing my focus between what I think is the most relevant course of action and what my professors value. If one values skills and experience over grades, those grades still have long-term consequences. Scholarships, future schooling, jobs, etc. If I should dismiss a piece of musical history now, will I be expected to possess that knowledge in the future having completed this course? I don’t know because I haven’t done this before. There is a level of trust I am placing on my professors that I am being appropriately prepared for the next step of my journey.
This inner conflict has played out in the work that I’ve done for MUS-2230 this semester. In the following entries, you will see a collection of anxiety-induced engagements with a variety of subjects. I will attempt to share what I have learned, such as things that I wanted to know more about (like Indian classical music theory) and things I think I should know having taken this class (something about western art music of the 19th century.) My aim is to present this material in a way that could be beneficial to someone casually interested in learning more about any of the topics I’ve been exploring. I will treat this as a digital primer for a student, a friend, or my future self, on Indian music theory, lesser-known composers of the Romantic period, and maybe some other bits of information I found interesting enough to share.
What am I doing here?
The syllabus for MUS-2230 presents several learning outcomes from which the class could choose with some liberty to interpret:
To understand how European romanticism in music operates as a response to modernity.
To understand how European colonial power structures, practices, and epistemologies have exerted hegemonic power over other musical practices, epistemologies, and historical narratives. This may include the following elements:
To understand how a musical canon arises and how it can exert hegemonic power.
To understand ways in which musical hegemony is sometimes challenged.
To understand how European and North American attitudes toward racial, ethnic, and cultural differences have shaped musical expression in Western music cultures.
To develop strategies to decolonize the post-secondary study of music history
These objectives are broad and required quite a bit of time to hone in on a specific topic. I approached this course prepared to study Western Art music from the Classical to Romantic period – from the 18th-ish to 19th-ish century. I was ready to take on the role of Fox McCloud and ride my Arwing down the rails of a second-year music history course. When I realized I could fly wherever I wanted to, I veered left and immediately got lost.
I bring this up not (only) to reference a favorite video game franchise, but to make an effort to reconnect to the initial purpose of this class. All the research I have done, whether a brief jaunt down Wiki Lane or mindful practice with an expert in her field via YouTube, I have developed new musical skills and perspectives that will benefit me as a musician and educator.
Two of the three listed learning outcomes were consistently on my mind throughout my work this semester. The first, “To understand how European colonial power structures, practices, and epistemologies have exerted hegemonic power over other musical practices, epistemologies, and historical narratives.” I spent less time on the “how” and focused instead on what we as music students are missing as a result of powerful people deciding whose music has worth.
Within the realm of Western Art Music, I wanted to spend time with composers whose names don’t dominate repertoire in concert halls and lesson rooms. Some I was familiar with going in such as Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, and Clara Schumann. Others I happily discovered along the way include Emilie Mayer and Ethel Smyth.
I knew I wanted to look beyond European traditions and I was quickly drawn to Indian Classical Music. I’ve had a fondness for this music since my early 20s when I discovered Passages, an album of original music composed by Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass. I was familiar with Glass from my piano studies, and the conceit of this album (each composer wrote themes for the other to flesh out into a finished piece) was new and exciting to me. It was an introduction to Hindustani classical music by way of contemporary minimalism that sparked an interest in a new cultural tradition and a new idea of what “classical music” could be.
It has been years since I last listened to this album. My CD collection has been packed in bins since 2016, so at least 6 years. Hearing it again now, I can understand why I was so struck by it. [My CDs are still packed away and I’m streaming the album through my tiny laptop speakers as God intended.]
The second objective that is baked into my work is “to develop strategies to decolonize the post-secondary study of music history.” I haven’t posed it as a question to be answered, but rather accepted this as an established scenario. In studying music theory from the perspective of Indian Classical Music traditions, I set out to develop my ability to connect with musicians from different cultural backgrounds. That, and, though lacking the same sense of altruism, just because it’s cool. Musicians and music educators spend a lot of time justifying the “WHY” of music (and art in general) when no such justification is necessary. Music is a part of us, individually and as a culture, and its value has nothing to do with one’s math scores. I understand that in the face of budget cuts, reasoning with people who only speak in dollars requires us to PROVE that art contributes to the economy.
My auto mechanic back in New Hampshire had a fun way of presenting evidence. As a young man under his father’s roof, Dan [we’ll call him Dan] was obsessed with music – especially blues guitar. Dan’s father didn’t understand in the way that parents often don’t, and questioned the validity of music’s intrinsic value. So Dan removed the stereo from his father’s car and wouldn’t return it until he conceded the importance of music.
Is that story true? I don’t know, but it’s interesting to think about taking away the stereos, music apps, and hell, even the muzak in retail chains from anyone who suggests maybe we don’t need a music department.
Getting back to what we teach/learn, I don’t think it’s wrong to think Beethoven (or Mozart, or whoever your favorite 18th century European is) was a great composer. I’m not claiming that music isn’t worth playing or preserving. I do take issue with the idea that Western Art Music is the ONLY acceptable form of musical analysis. I think we (North Americans) do a pretty terrible job of framing our musical perspective while doing a bang-up job of erasing anything other.
Technology is only making this disparity all the more obvious. There are communities of people from around the world connecting and sharing their stories online. We don’t need a plane ticket to make a best friend on another continent. Platforms like YouTube make it easier than ever to connect with creators of many backgrounds. As a result, we are more aware of other cultures and other narratives, and young folks (especially) are able to see they are part of one story in a world full of stories.