A music teacher's site about music, teaching, creativity, and related social and economic issues…
Get lessons or coaching
I teach music lessons in Minneapolis and online videochat. I work with all ages and levels and a variety of styles. I specialize in creative exploration, music psychology, and conscious music practices. Visit the lessons page to learn more.
When I first realized that most of the content I learned in my schooling and private lessons was available in books at the library, it made me question the value of the lessons and classes. On the other hand, maybe I wouldn't have actually read all the books on my own at that younger age... But I wasn't presented with the opportunity so I didn't know it was available. Of course, in the days before the internet, there simply wasn't quite as much information readily available and even finding the right books at the library was harder before computerized catalogs. Of course, books aren't as meaningful until after one has had real-world experience to relate the ideas to.
A teacher's job is to get students to learn and be thoughtful, and, ideally, that is done as efficiently as possible. The most efficient learning for beginners is full multi-sensory immersion: playing music with others in a real-world context. Then students are able to relate these experiences to more removed media like recordings and abstract symbols such as music notation. Of course, efficient also implies practical; so the value of experiencing different media must be weighed against accessibility and cost. Teachers should make students aware of the opportunities of different media as soon as students are ready for them.
Though not all students may follow through, I intend to do everything I can to enable and encourage independent study. Unfortunately, while information is now more readily available than ever, the options are overwhelming (see this compelling video: Barry Schwartz On The Paradox of Choice). So my job is both to directly teach particular ideas as well as to be a guide to the learning process in general.
This post is about evaluating different media. I am sure that information scientists (i.e. librarians et al) and pedagogy scholars have done extensive work studying this subject (please let me know if you have specific recommendations about research I should check out), but here I would like to share my personal thoughts specific to the study of music through different media including private lessons, classes, books, videos, software, and more.
Different media offer different benefits. Therefore, the best learning is multimedia using the all the forms for their different values.
Pros and cons of learning music through different media:
I've been through a lot since my last post. I went from being quite certain that I would move across the country to pursue a PhD in Musicology (with a cross-cultural focus) to changing plans and now staying in Ann Arbor while my wife, Samantha, does a MS degree in Natural Resources and Environment at the University of Michigan. I won't get into discussing the complex issues of different universities, my general feelings about academia, the issues about the prospects of UofM for me, other alternatives, etc (maybe another time...). Simply put, every opportunity comes in a package with all sorts of issues, pros and cons, open or closed doors, costs, etc. Making decisions about these things is very complex. It is impossible to truly know what unchosen decisions would have brought. Among many other factors, I am sincerely excited for Samantha — and not just for her sake, but because I also find biology and environmental issues fascinating and important.
So now I am continuing to teach private lessons while also considering how else to make the most of the next couple years. I have several projects to pursue. I already have more than a dozen planned blog articles on many subjects. I have an endless reading list. I want to record and compose new music. I ought to get out and perform more, perhaps get together an ensemble with other musicians. I intend to pursue formal publication of some of my academic research. I may take and/or audit various classes. And I just got started working with a programmer friend with the goal of realizing some of my computer-based music theory education ideas. I could even start on finally writing my guitar method (given that I've reviewed over 700 related publications and still haven't found anything quite like what I want), but I think that project may have to wait...
Today I want to share two specific items:
(A)I fully revised my page here: Lessons: Details, Philosophy
The updated page describes much of my attitude as a music teacher and clarifies (I hope) my wacky philosophical title of this site. I had trepidations about trying to explain in a few sentences some philosophical concepts so complex that I'm not sure I fully understand them. But, as Professor Bob Woody replied recently when I commented on his blog, maybe writing controversial or simplistic things might encourage more comments! I have certainly gained more understanding by sharing my thoughts and making them open for criticism than by trying to hold onto my ideas until I think they are flawless (which is never). As that static page doesn't allow comment, please comment here regarding that page.
(B) I thought of a way to be more environmentally responsible in my teaching:
The background: I feel happy and responsible that my wife and I share a single car — and still, it is rarely used. We put much less miles on our shared car than the average single-driver car. This is possible for many reasons, including our decision to run errands by bicycle or foot as much as possible and to avoid other unnecessary driving. But the main reason I drive so little is that I teach out of my home studio most days. The problem is: while this saves me a lot of money, it doesn't actually reduce cost and pollution overall because my students still drive to come to me. Yeah, it's still better than if my students and I both drove to meet at some separate location, but it still isn't an ideal sustainable arrangement considering environmental and energy costs (and I don't believe in the absurd premise that electric cars or similar can somehow be efficient enough to make sprawling, commuting suburb life sustainable). If my career is to be feasible and responsible in the future, this needs to be addressed.
There is the possibility of online teaching with video conferencing and such, and maybe I'll try that sometime. Online can never be quite the same as in-person lessons, but maybe it really could be a fair compromise in some cases. But I thought of a more immediate solution:
I just need to encourage students to take public transit or bike (or even walk) to lessons. I had hesitated to do this in the past because I know it is hard (though not impossible) to bike with a guitar, but I realize now I just need to have enough various instruments of my own so that students can use one of my guitars in their lessons. Yes, it is better for me to see how they play with their own guitar, but it is more important to encourage students to save money and reduce pollution and waste. I want to live in a world where people are healthy and responsible and bike more, and I'm thrilled to have thought of a way to directly encourage that. I added a note to my official policy and will mention it to my students in the future. I hope it works out for at least some folks!
----
Thanks for reading. Check back here (or subscribe via the form to the right) to keep up with future updates. The vast majority of my planned posts are about general insights in music and related things, in contrast to the largely personal nature of this post. Thanks goes out to the numerous folks who helped me in so many ways throughout my grad school application process — I gained a lot of perspective and understanding even though I will not be going back to school yet.
In 2008, I became one of the first owners of a Tonal Plexus keyboard from H-Pi Instruments (a mostly one-man production of owner Aaron Hunt, who hand-builds the keyboards and creates the supporting software).
I had already deeply studied pitch in music through barbershop harmony, alternatively tuning my guitars, listening to software tone generators, listening to a wide variety of music from around the world and from composers who explored pitch (such as Lou Harrison, Harry Partch, Toby Twining, Jon Catler, and many others), and through extensive reading (including Hermann Helmholtz, Easley Blackwood, Bill Sethares, and many more).
At one time, I had hoped to find some simple scale or guitar tuning or guitar fretting system that would achieve the sounds I was seeking; but no optimal system seemed possible. If I wanted one chord tuning, it interfered with tuning another chord. Frets would have to be so close together, that I might as well have no frets. No frets allows any pitch, but then it is much harder to avoid errors in tuning. Violinists and barbershop singers work hard enough to get one pitch tuned just so. Achieving consistent accuracy (to the degree that I want) with multiple notes and complex chords all on a single stringed instrument is unrealistic.
With the Tonal Plexus (TPX) keyboard, a whole new flexibility is possible without sacrificing accuracy. The sheer number of pitches approximates a complete pitch continuum. In other words, the very low-bit digital system of the traditional keyboard or fretted instruments is rough and blocky, like an old eight or sixteen color computer screen, whereas the Tonal Plexus is still digital but is more like 8-bit or 16-bit color (meaning hundreds to thousands of colors) on a computer monitor which can much better approximate the full color spectrum. Full analog devices are completely continuous, but being digital offers more accessible accuracy. I can press a specific button and get a specific predetermined pitch.
On the downside, the TPX cannot achieve the natural fluidity of analog instruments like fretless strings or the human voice. Also, the lack of touch sensitivity further limits the keyboard's expressive potential. Of course, adding touch sensitivity for so many buttons would make the instrument prohibitively expensive, if it were even possible. At least there is a randomization option for velocity as well as a whole-keyboard option for volume and velocity control via footpedals. It is worth noting that harpsichords and organs have still been used to make effective music despite their lack of touch sensitivity.
While I learned much upon initially playing with the keyboard, I found it frustrating that it still could not achieve quite what I wanted. The stretches seemed awkward. I wondered about all sorts of other alternatives. I decided to finally get a fretless guitar (see my 2009 video). The guitar's nuances and fluidity were thrilling, but it wasn't the full answer either. I've come to accept that my imagined complete instrument may simply be practically impossible (even though simultaneous fluid melodic motion, precise harmony, harmonic deviance, and control of touch sensitive nuance is — in principle — possible). Maybe touch-sensitive multi-touch computer screens along with some complex algorithmic tuning will get closer, but we're not there yet.
In the end, I have realized that what matters more is the human context: the cultural and psychological experience of music over the details of the objective form. And yet, I am convinced that much of the pitch subtlety available on the TPX is psychologically relevant. I have much more to study and hope to get more involved in that sort of research, but that's a subject for another time.
In an effort to be less idealistic and perfectionist, I have gone back to the TPX to show off its unique capabilities. It certainly can do particular expressive things that no other musical instrument has ever achieved. It is worth appreciating that without worrying about the compromises. All instruments bring different insights and potential, and exploring the Tonal Plexus for what it offers has been very enriching.
With help from my friend Doug Jones doing the camera-work and providing some direction and feedback, I have made an initial set of videos on my TPX. The first is an introductory explanation:
Next, a melodic improvisation over a drone:
Finally, a barbershop tag in just intonation:
[note: click the links to YouTube to read the specific descriptions I wrote of each video]
More videos will come soon. I hope these first ones highlight just a little of the enormous potential here. My future with this could include more careful practice, maybe detailed compositions, additional controllers for more timbrel and dynamic (and even additional pitch) nuance, and coordination with other instruments and musicians.
I welcome any comments or questions, though I suggest that anyone interested in the theory explore the H-Pi website first. There, Mr. Hunt has included everything from history to theory about much of the ideas behind this keyboard. He also offers software including a FREE virtual version of the keyboard (which is also used by owners to create alternate tunings or other adjustments). H-Pi also offers software for ear-training, an alternate-tuning device for standard keyboards, and much more.
It is at once mundane and yet remarkable how much one's impression of the world is influenced by what one focuses on. In college, I was taught traditional eurocentric classical music theory. Though some exceptional professors had broader perspectives, it seemed they were still resigned to the primacy of the conservative traditions. Not wanting to be an ignorant critic, I made a conscious effort to understand and appreciate the traditional views. Later, I did the same with guitar pedagogy: reading through all the classical literature to understand that perspective. I learned a lot and valued some of the ideas, but I felt small and alone in my persistent interests in music cognition, ethnomusicology, and other less-classical approaches.
More recently, I began seeking out more cutting edge contemporary research. At first, I had little guidance because most of my professional acquaintances have only superficial awareness of the questions that interest me. But then one connection led to another, and I was soon overwhelmed with books, journal articles, conferences, websites, music, and names. It seems I wasn't so alone after all. Now I feel as though I am just one of a vast number, possibly even a majority, of younger researchers and teachers who are fully engaged and open to the broad perspectives on music that are available in the 21st century. It now seems to me that everyone acknowledges the validity of all the world's musics, appreciates the insights of cognitive neuroscience, and is interested in the whole complicated discourse of various perspectives. But, is this impression just a result of with whom and with what I am now surrounding myself? I think the reality is somewhere in the middle.
Philip Ball's new book The Music Instinct: How Music Works and Why We Can't Do Without It presents an impressive overview of the current issues in music scholarship, balancing respect and awareness of both classical perspectives and the important questions of global and scientific insights. Reading it, I felt very humbled. How can this popular science writer (who is not a career musician and who has covered a wide range of subjects from art to physics to biology) be so knowledgeable about all these music issues that took me years of study to understand? He even seems to possess a thoughtful perspective on evaluating it all.
Ball starts off with an introduction that beautifully addresses the concerns that I and others have dealt with in today's world of music. It emphasizes the inherent musicality of cognitive music listening skills over the Western emphasis on performance and note-reading. He addresses the concerns that ethnomusicologists have about attempts to understand music universally. He deals with the philosophical questions of music's significance to humanity.
Ball's book, along with other recent popular titles like This Is Your Brain On Music by Daniel Levitin and Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks, is another sign that the zeitgeist is shifting. The questions I have been asking for a long while are now mainstream. (Incidentally, I was excited to see Ball using the same music/cooking analogy which I developed independently). As I read further, however, I found that The Music Instinct is a mixed attempt, still hampered by some of the older assumptions and terminology. The Western art music tradition is foremost, balanced mostly by reference to Western popular music. Ball understands and explicitly states that non-Western music traditions are as rich, but he knows less about them and so offers little in that direction aside from some minor mentions. While his attitude is commendable, his compilation of a wide range of subjects is a jumble of blocks that struggle to cohere into a greater whole.
The main value of this book is its up-to-date overview of many of the interesting subjects at the forefront of musicology today. I see it as a signpost in the exciting progression of our understanding of music. It does not get all the way to the destination that is in sight — a place where understanding of music will be comprehensive, better organized, and liberated from cultural or historical bias.
The Music Instinct fails to justify the subtitle of "why we can't do without it." Even the known benefits of music, such as making repetitive work more fun and tolerable, are not addressed here. My own consciousness was raised by the remarkable movie Sound and Fury. In one scene, some members of the deaf community, happy — even proud — in their deafness, dismiss the supposed importance of music. I think, in fact, we can do without music, though I, for one, certainly prefer having it. And I enjoy understanding music enough to appreciate Philip Ball's compendium of issues in musicology despite his imperfect organization. I'm just not quite sure to whom I could recommend the book. It is too difficult a read for any true novice, not optimal for teaching music appreciation or theory, and not in-depth enough for serious academics (I was particularly frustrated that he mentions studies sometimes without any identifying title or citation). Perhaps the best fit is someone like me: already aware of many of these issues but interested in reading different perspectives.
Read on for more content summary and further discussion:
When I was young, I was thrilled by each lesson I learned, each discovery I made in the course of my musical development. When I found a new chord I liked or composed a piece of a melody, I thought it was the greatest thing ever. I was inspired to flesh out full compositions for each idea.
Eventually, I learned so many forms and tricks that I had far more ideas than time to work on them all. Then something shifted. I realized that I was able to easily come up with an infinite number of ideas and quickly. That awareness made each idea less special, and I was less motivated to develop them. My compositional output dropped, even as I became a more skilled musician.
At a more mature level, motivation comes from deeper purpose. Instead of working on ideas for their own sake, I consider particular goals such as expressing something or teaching a particular concept. Still, being more knowledge of all the possibilities, it is far more time-consuming to realize the ever-more-detailed ideas in my imagination.
I miss the pure, creative drive I used to have. I probably can't return to my childhood experience of seeing almost everything as novel; but I can just decide to sit down and create something with the limited time I have and learn to accept that it won't be perfect.
Here's a product of this effort, an impromptu improvisation on Chapman Stick:
This wasn't the most satisfying achievement, but it feels better to have done it than not. I still hope to find the optimal perspective and situation that will get me back to really enthusiastic inspiration. Perhaps I will find that in collaborative settings, in graduate school or elsewhere... But for now, I intend to keep making music where I am.
I've been struggling with questions and nagging doubts about my music career as I consider schools and programs for a return to academia. Any area of study could potentially consume all of one's time and energy. Any field will have a community of researchers who find the details engaging and hold conferences and such to discuss it all. But I worry about keeping broader perspective on the larger purpose.
I recently thought of an analogy that seems valuable: cooking. Unlike music, the importance of food is more readily apparent, more concrete, more universally defined. Like music, however, cooking has innumerable facets and philosophies. By directly comparing music and cooking I have a way to consider the meaning of music. If some attitude we have about music would seem ludicrous regarding food, then we should question if the attitude is justified.
At its most basic, cooking provides safe, digestible, and ideally healthy sustenance. Music is definitely not as necessary and fundamental, but perhaps it could be described as emotional or spiritual sustenance. There are many functions of music that I won't get into here (though understanding and defining them is definitely important). Anyway, this music/cooking analogy is not going to hold up completely but consider the following:
In classical music, extreme deference is given to composers, and many classical teachers are absolutely insistent that the "correct" music is precisely the notes written in a score, though unspecified musical parameters are open to interpretation. Is there such a classical idea in cooking about recipes? Are there any chefs who learn their craft solely by following detailed recipes as strictly as possible?
In collaborative music making, there is a complex dynamic between individual expression and group coordination and sublimation of the individual. Surely there are times in collaborating on a meal or on a dish that chefs must be thoughtful about how their contribution fits in the whole.
Music is often considered artistic and some music teachers act as though artistry is the entire point and without artistry music is nothing. But cooking has potential for artistry yet remains undeniably valuable even when no artistry is present. Maybe we need to acknowledge that just engaging in music is healthy and doesn't need to always be artistic.
In music, cults of personality are widespread. Great musicians and composers are idolized, revered, and studied from myriad angles. Certainly respect is given to great chefs, but it seems ludicrous to me to consider emphasizing specific recipes from renound chefs at the level that we do with music compositions. Maybe musical hero-worship needs to be de-emphasized.
Cooking and music are both very strongly tied to culture. Nutritionists are justified, however, in talking universally about health and nutrition (as long as they acknowledge that people do vary physiologically). Similarly, music definitely has universal and cross-cultural aspects which should be studied and appreciated alongside the respect for cultural traditions.
The value of learning to cook is undeniable. Everyone ought to know how to cook basic food for themselves to be healthy and economical. Any suggestion that beginning cooks ought to aspire to be professional chefs would be absurd. In music, however, there is less clarity of what it means to learn to be competent and functional in order to just make simple, effective music for oneself. We don't assume that the only valid reason to learn to cook is to prepare meals for guests; and we shouldn't assume that the only reason to learn to make music is to perform for others — even though cooking or performing for others can be great. Music and cooking can both be very social, and are perhaps best that way, but the social element is not the only goal.
Creativity can be a very exciting aspect of either music or cooking. But clearly there is value in cooking even with no creativity, and the same must be acknowledged about music.
A large number of musicians veer toward perfectionism. Too often, perfectionism is essentially taught as part of music lessons, even at relatively early stages. Some degree of accuracy is import, of course, but just as you can still eat food that is a tad too salty or too dry or whatever, we can still appreciate imperfect music. In fact, we better appreciate imperfection because otherwise we'll starve and make no music.
People certainly vary in their tastes. We can talk about general preferences, but some people like more spices than others. I really prefer to be able to add salt if I want instead of food being salted a lot already. I prefer much less spices than many other people. On the other hand, I have complex musical tastes.
In both the world of food and music, unskilled ignorant consumers take in highly-marketed products of debatable quality and health-value. Good chefs and musicians have a responsibility to introduce people to healthier options — that are still delicious.
In both cooking and music there is a tension between accepting practical or limited ingredients versus wanting to draw from the widest possible choices of spices or instruments...
There are cooking competitions but everyone recognizes how subjective they are; and most people never consider competition in relation to their own food and cooking. Music is the same, and some musicians need to be reminded of that. Even the most competitive contest chef probably never loses awareness of the quirky place of competition in the broad world of cooking.
In both music and cooking, experiencing great works from masters can inspire and be part of learning to make your own.
This list could go on longer. By considering the complex yet concrete world of food in comparison to the somewhat ineffable world of music, one gains a humbling perspective. Far more could be said about this analogy, but I think readers should ponder further independently. Please consider adding comments below...
Sometimes I just feel like such an iconoclast in the world of music theory and pedagogy. Today I was inspired to make a video that attacks one of the most basic precepts of Western music theory: the idea of octave equivalence. To be sure, I'm far from the first to question the nature of octaves. I was inspired because today during a break I was practicing and came up with a very straightforward and accessible way to present one angle on the subject... read on and see the video below:
There are so many problems with the generic idea of octaves as taught in Western music that I can't get into them all here. The question of why do we treat octaves as equivalent has to be qualified by questions of when. In Bill Sethares' notable book Tuning Timbre Spectrum Scale (the link includes summary and samples), he describes and provides audio examples of how the idea of equivalence and blend is related to the particular vibrations in a sound's spectrum. Among the simplest examples, as piano tuners know, the inharmonicity of hammered (or plucked) strings can lead to stretched octaves. Bill goes on to discuss harmony for completely inharmonic sounds as well, which is a whole further (and very interesting) issue.
There have been many attempts to explain why the octave is so significant, some based on carefully controlled scientific experiments. What we know about octaves is that they are, at the most basic, a doubling (or halving) of vibration speed (or close). Because of that, they blend very well and fit into the same overall periodicity. Men and women have likely been singing octaves since prehistoric times. The vast majority of all the world's music treats the octave specially, usually with equivalency, giving the same note name to pitches at an octave.
While the significance of octaves must be acknowledged, there is more than enough evidence to disprove any claim that octaves are absolutely universally equivalent. Octaves are not fully equivalent. They sound different. Harmony does not work the same way at all octaves. A close position major chord sounds great in middle to high ranges, but move it down some octaves into bass ranges and it sounds muddy even if the tuning is not tempered. The vast majority of all guitar methods teach that octaves are equivalent and so any combination of C, E, and G makes a C chord; but the very same books near-universally teach students not to play the low E when holding a C chord. That E doesn't fit as well the harmonic series of the rest of the C chord, so it sounds rougher. If they explain at all, most books and teachers just say that while E is technically part of the chord, we just don't play it because it sounds bad. Some books say it is because the lowest note should be C for a C chord. And yet there is widespread acceptance of the same chord with a low G bass note (which fits the harmonic series in that octave better than the E). Explaining all this is simple once we drop the idea that octaves are totally equivalent.
Another great example is Diana Deutch's Mysterious Melody. She shows how if the octaves are mixed up in a melody it is unrecognizable. Significantly, however, once the melody is known by hearing it normally, then one can still hear it within the mixed-up-octaves version! So octaves have some equivalence: they can substitute for one another if our expectations are clear. But they aren't fully equivalent; it is based on expectations and context.
A common question says, "if octaves are equivalent because they fit into the same periodicity and are a simple 1:2 ratio and part of the harmonic series, wouldn't the 1:3 ratio be comparable and therefore also be equivalent?"
Maybe octaves are more significant because of cultural reinforcement. Maybe it's because men and women don't have such different ranges that they would sing at an even further 1:3 ratio. Maybe it's because 1:3 can be divided by 1:2, thus making 1:1.5 which is not as simple and thus 1:2 is more absolutely basic... but maybe we shouldn't even assume that 1:3 can't be equivalent. Maybe it can be.
I was playing around with this today and decided to make a video showing how effective it is to play at a set 1:3 ratio (called a twelfth in standard Western music theory terms counting letters; also called a tritave in harmonic terms because it's a multiple of 3)
Notice how the final note in the video sounds fully resolved (it does to me anyway). Both the low and high notes each feel not just like part of a tonic harmony but actually feel like the main tonal center, even though one is E and the other is B. But this isn't bitonality to me, though it might be arguably similar. I think this is more like twelfths/tritave equivalency and feels about the same as octave equivalency, just lacking the life-long cultural reinforcement. Maybe in a 12ths/tritave-based theory the E and B would actually get the same name, like we usually do with octaves (for example, the Bohlen-Pierce tuning is tritave-based). Sure, 12ths/tritaves don't sound really identical, but remember that octaves don't either...
EDIT update 11/15/10:
I should mention that the technique I used (playing some music and then checking whether an isolated tone seems to fit) has technical terms. The preparation listening is called "priming" and the isolated tone is called a "probe tone." These are some of the standard methods used in empirical studies of music cognition. My simple demonstration could easily be repeated in controlled testing administered to a number of listeners from different backgrounds. Different priming and different probe tones could be used. The results could better clarify my hypotheses about the potential for listeners to learn 12ths-equivalence (or other alternate equivalences), though additional varieties of tests would be needed to truly be conclusive.
I've reworked the old content from my previous website to be at least functional finally. While most stuff is now included in this blog, the site has some autobiographical details on my music background, information about my compositions and published recordings, and a good selection of streaming music.
