#music program

I would assert that my college music history classes are being taught in a bubble. I am learning music history because I have been told that it is “important,” although I have seen little justification for this in the rest of my studies. As a student whose primary focus is wind ensemble music, I rarely play pieces by the composers we study in-depth. When I eventually direct a band myself, this trend is likely to continue. Mozart simply didn’t write for wind ensemble, as the wind ensemble did not yet exist. My theory classes covered the music of the baroque and classical eras well before we discussed them in music history, meaning that I was once again unable to apply the things I had learned in the history class. 

This bubble is further created by one of my music history professors outright forbidding our class from connecting what we were learning in class to the music we were familiar with. The class covered music from ancient times until the year 1750. We were explicitly forbidden from mentioning anything that occurred after 1750 in our work. I did a presentation on renaissance instruments at one point, and was not allowed to mention the trombone when discussing the sackbut, nor the oboe while discussing the crumhorn. 

Without the ability to compare the past to the present, the class felt absolutely useless. Why do I need to care about the sackbut in the first place if it is not to understand the origin of the trombone? Why should I care about baroque opera that I can’t understand if I can’t connect it to the modern musical theater that I have so much affection for? 

My answer to these questions became “because I want an A in the class.” As a teacher, I hope that my students never have to answer the question “why do I need to know this” with “because I want a good grade.” That answer leads to a lack of motivation and, worse, a lack of understanding. When students don’t see purpose in learning the material, they aim to memorize rather than really engage with the content. They prepare for an assessment rather than attempting to really internalize the concepts. As an educator, that is heartbreaking. 

Yet that has been the case with my music history education much of the time. When I have asked the question “why are we learning about X,” I am often met with the argument that “X was a genius” or “X is a brilliant piece of music.” I have never found that to be a satisfactory answer. There are lots of things that are brilliant that I have no interest in studying in-depth because I know I will not use the information: papers on particle physics, for example. I’m glad someone did it, but I feel no compulsion to engage with it just because it is a work of genius. I also think that “genius” and “brilliant” are very subjective terms, and are often misused in the world of music, but that’s beside the point. 

Returning to my love of the music history I learned in piano back in high school, I never had to ask why I was learning it: I applied it immediately. I learned about the Russian revolution when playing Russian music, and put the anger and fear that so many people experienced into my interpretation of the piece. Even five years later I remember playing a Kabalevsky’s Sonatina in a minor and learning about the small act of rebellion he committed against the communist party he was employed by when he included two measures with emphasized syncopation. Syncopation was considered a “western” concept rather than a “Russian” one, and therefore could not be used in Russian music. I still know this because I got to apply that knowledge to my performance. Even if my parents didn’t know why those two measures were important, they could tell they were important because I brought them out of the texture a little. 

That application made the material mean something. Kabalevsky was more than a name and set of random facts. He was a rebel. He was fighting against oppressors. He was cool to a sixteen year old me. I have never experienced that thought in my music history classes. 

So the question becomes this: how do we get the goal of academic music history classes to be application? 

As a future high school band director, the solution is simpler than it is for my collegiate music history professors. I will have the opportunity to do something very similar to what my piano teachers did, and teach music history alongside the pieces we are performing: if we are performing “The Washington Post” march by Sousa, we will discuss march form and history, along with why John Phillip Sousa was a big deal and how the march got its name. Where was it performed for the first time? Students will connect to this information because they will be able to use to inform a stellar performance. 

This is quite impossible in a college music history class. At my university, there are members of no less than ten different ensembles enrolled in my music history class, including students specializing in wind ensemble, choir, orchestra, and jazz. It would be impossible to cover every composer we’re playing pieces by, and no composer would be directly relevant to everyone in the room. So this solution that is simple in a band room becomes impossible. 

I would suggest changing the goal of music history from knowing about certain composers and pieces to learning a skill set that is applicable to any composer and any piece. This skill set would include an advanced musical vocabulary. We would still need to learn about genres, forms, textures, and instrumentation. We would have a basic timeline of the evolution of these concepts so we can understand approximately where a piece fits in. We would learn about the useful generalizations that can be made using the idea of musical eras. This necessary skill set would also include research skills: how do you learn about music once you’re out of this classroom?

Now with the idea of a skill based curriculum comes the question: what about all of the “brilliant” composers that we focus so extensively on in our current model? Well, firstly it is important to remember that some of them fit into an understanding of the musical ideas I’ve already discussed. You cannot talk about the evolution of the symphony without talking about Beethoven. You cannot discuss the development of opera without discussing Mozart and Wagner. But these discussions can be had based on what they did rather than simply their excellence. Students can learn for themselves why these figures were important. These so-called geniuses can also offer great practice for the application of research skills that are so essential to music history scholarship. Rather than simply reading about these people in a textbook, why not read primary sources focused on their work? Why not expect students to find pieces that demonstrate general characteristics common to a composer’s style? Not only will students learn more about whatever great master is being studied, but they will be able to apply that information beyond that individual. 

This approach would have multiple advantages. Firstly, if we’re studying the people in music history for reasons other than “they’re important” it is far easier to diversify the curriculum. Music history is very straight, very white, and very male. When pieces and composers are being used as part of a broader curriculum rather than the sole focus, lesser known artists and works can be incorporated. A lesser known classical sonata can be substituted for one by Mozart. A wind ensemble symphony can serve as an example of the genre’s modern incarnation just as easily as an orchestral one. This allows all students, even those for whom orchestra or choir is not their primary focus, even those who are not white men, to see themselves in the class, and to connect to that. 

Secondly, and I cannot stress this enough, students can apply this curriculum when they are not discussing Mozart or Beethoven. As a band director, it is unlikely that I program much Mozart. But I will certainly use my understanding of how to discuss music history when I program a symphony for band, or discuss the latin origins of a piece like Kevin Day’s “Havana.” (If you don’t know Kevin Day, you will one day. He writes great wind ensemble music and is going to be HUGE). My students will need background on these pieces just as much as they would if they were playing baroque music. I wish I was being prepared as if that were the case.