Dalcroze Then and Now: Is Historical Context Important?

I suppose I had taken it for granted that the Dalcroze method was born out of a need for students to have a visceral experience in music in order to play more coherently and expressively, and that this need still exists in our present day conservatories as it had for M. Jacques more than a century ago. I do sense intuitively that the concept and application of exercises are effective, and that their effectiveness would most likely be supported empirically through research. However, in thinking back on what I know of turn-of-the-century music, both from recordings, historical study and plenty of cliche, it strikes me that the world of Emile Jacques-Dalcroze, with all of its strengths and weaknesses, concerns and cultural phenomena, was not the same world we live in today. Perhaps when I was in school, I figured the continuity of the conservatory accross centuries of history as an institution, should measure up pretty close to the conservatory model (and students therein) that Dalcroze would have encountered.

When I listen to old recordings from the early 20th century, the first thing that strikes me about the performances is the difference in taste - the wild rubato, expressive intonation, and a tendency toward expressiveness most modern listeners would find grotesque and undesirable. Conversely, a typical criticism of younger players made by teachers a generation or more older is that the playing is mechanical, inexpressive, "perfect for the sake of perfection" and ultimately missing the point (I remember a lecture by Paul Hersh at San Francisco Conservatory mourning the loss of expressive intonation and the meaningless advancement of technical perfection).

Of course comparing these two situations may be problematic, since the available recordings of generations past are generally of great masters such as Heifetz or Schnabel, who would be thus compared to typical modern conservatory students. It would be wonderful to find a stash of recordings of conservatory auditions in the early 20th century. However, there definitely is a tendency for recordings of professional musicians to sound increasingly more homogeneous, in-tune, and less spontaneous throughout the history of recorded music.

Though this is merely conjecture, I wonder if Dalcroze developed his method for students who would have problems quite different from modern students, who so often need to be "brought out of their shells" or taught to be expressive in an antiseptic modern stylistic vacuum. In the end, I would guess that the Dalcroze method is effective because it reunites the twin human experiences of movement and music (which have recently been proven to utilize more or less the same suite of cognitive functions of the brain), the act of which is effective in fixing any number of different music performance problems. I have to wonder, though, what was he thinking? What was he seeing/hearing, and how did his experiences shape his theories and methods? And how does the difference between the state of music education then and now affect the application of his ideas in today's conservatory?

Charles Darwin Makes You Cool

So I got a new car last week - a 2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse - after a very long and straining period of walking and taking buses, which in LA is no small feat. With nothing terribly pressing to do (besides the pile of work I really should be doing) I took it on a time-honored Southern California cliche - on a trip up Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu.

I knew there was a winery up there, though I had forgotten how far. No problem, this was a %100 pleasure drive. I've always enjoyed driving, as long as I wasn't late for something or stuck in traffic. Perfect...there's not much traffic on Sundays except cruising, and I sure didn't have to get anywhere. With the wind whipping through the car, the blue ocean on my left and mountains on my right, it was the perfect day. Really. After I passed Duke's Hawaiian Restaurant (where they make my favorite Mai Tais), the boardwalk and a surfer beach (I think that's where the original Gidget learned to ride the waves), I accidentally turned into Pepperdine University. Never been up there, and the view was breathtaking. This is cool. No price of admission, and nothing to compare it to. Just a huge, chrystal clear panorama of Californian natural opulance.

I got back on the road after a few minutes of soaking in the scene, and before long I reached the winery I remembered. It's a cute little place, something of a well-kept shack with small plants and wood trim decorating the entrance to the tasting room. I pulled up alongside some very expensive looking sports cars - though they were just as cool as they were expensive looking. None of that modest, concealed lethargy of sober dignity.

Stepping out of the car, I opened the trunk and pulled out the book I was reading, Darwin's "The Expressions of Emotions in Man and Animals," his writings on the possibility that facial expressions in man are inate, rather than learned. I had just started it, but it was a compelling observation and very well written.

Walking into the tasting room, I took a standing place by the tasting bar. The whole structure and grounds are perfectly configured to promote a leisurely, casual atmosphere for sampling (and relishing in) one of the most amazing substances made to short-circuit our human sensory system. No sooner had I walked up to the bar than a light-brown haired woman in her late 40s gently took the book from my hand and looked it over.

After that initial breaking of ice, Gini (that was her name) talked about how interesting evolution was, asked me what I thought of Darwin, and we swapped public radio stories and this and that for at least an hour. She introduced me to her husband, who was a former musician, guitarist, I believe. They also told me about a new field they're deep into studying: Theta Healing. I'm still not quite sure what theta healing is, but I believe it has something to do with influencing your body on a cellular level through some kind of psycho-neurological process that allows your body and mind to overcome obstacles in self belief systems. That's what I got from the conversation, over some really, really good wine. And they were wine club members, so I got some of the "Shhh" wine. I learned a lot of things...including how former hippy pot-farmers went into wine making, and through hard work, art and science, became the greatest agronomists ever to inhabit the earth. I'm supposed to call them up sometime so they can do a healing session on me. I'd be curious to see how it works.

After they left I continued with the next four wines on my flight, during which time a new crowd came in - a short, round man who really knows his stuff, a young pair of girls and a guy who seemed to be related to the winery up the street, and an aging playboy who drove up in a 1063 Corvette convertible. The atmosphere was rather unreal - timeless. The tradition of wine making seems to be all about money, and yet not about money at all at the same time. It's like the perfect mixture of nature and technology, the over-priced and the priceless, all meeting on the taste-bud interface of human experience.

After I walked off the buzz, went to the bathroom and read a bit of my book, I got back in the car and drove off toward LA, with the glowing sunset on my right side, culture, nature, science and myth all around me. Yeah, Charles Darwin makes you cool. And this was all very, very cool.

Reaction to "This is Your Brain on Music"

Daniel Levitan's "This is Your Brain on Music" has shed remarkable light on the way we experience music, as performers and listeners, introducing the lay music lover to the latest discoveries in the neuroscience of music cognition. The book is far reaching, answering with compelling explanations such questions as what is a musician, and how to we like what we like? The work has great strengths, most valuable of which is the authoritative account of cutting edge research in the field by a knowledgeable and sensitive musician. There are indeed few people in the world with such expertise, and fewer still who would write such an interesting and accessible book.

There are some weaknesses to this book, though. In so far as Mr. Levitan answers those historically philosophical questions with the hard, empirical discoveries, the work is extremely important and successful. However, two aspects of the book bother me. One is how the actual musical examples are largely glossed over, and the author offers little more than name dropping, and avoids to a fault (literally) any technical description of the music. This is tedious to a trained musician (many of whom I'm sure would be reading this book) since technical descriptions of the music are the most concise and accurate means of articulating the contents of a given piece. The result is that as we are introduced to many truly interesting concepts in how the brain works on music, there is a lack of follow-through in explaining how these processes would work in an actual example (diagrams, experimental data, etc. would help).

The other aspect of the book that I find problematic is in the final chapter, where Levitan goes off in a series of conjectures related to his conclusions (the final chapter also deals largely with evolutionary psychology, which while interesting and important, is softer science than the stronger part of his work). While classic philosophy may have indeed exhausted itself and given way to a new empirical philosophy concerning the mind, the social sciences are much murkier territory, and huge amounts of information must be considered.

Specifically, what bothered me in the last chapter was Levitan's assertion that modern classical music in the 20th century fell flat because it ignored the human connection (as in with rhythm, meter and pitch material) that is so prevalent in music of the "common practice." He goes further in saying that the final widely popular (and he seems to imply valid as well) composers of the century were Bernstein and Copeland, and that the dominant and most successful music of the present (and heir to the future) is rock.

There is really so much wrong with both of these conclusions. First of all, popular music and classical music have had separate histories and evolutions since at least as early as the mid-19th century. Popular music repertoire also largely consists of songs, and it would be comparing apples and oranges to make any meaningful comparison of rock and popular song with symphonic or open form instrumental music, contemporary or historic. Even ignoring the historical pedigree, Billy Joel could possibly be the heir to Schubert (as songwriter) and the rival of Ned Rorem, but could not possibly be considered the heir to Tchaikovsky and a rival of Ligeti.

Second, there are enough social, political and structural (with respect to arts management) issues involved in the so-called "rift" widely assumed to lie between contemporary classical audiences and newly composed music to render a neurological argument as to why certain music fails to attract audiences (fails to move could be argued, and even less convincingly) a weakly supported conjecture. And there is certainly a case to be made for the sheer confusion and disorientation for audiences surrounding a century of stylistic diversity, rapidly changing cultures, and plethora of "isms"? Following Levitan's own explanation of our human need for familiarity and novelty, wouldn't the cerebral excesses of some contemporary music be a natural and neccessary experiment?

In terms of my own research, however, I find the weaknesses in the conclusion of "This is Your Brain on Music" to be an indication of room for growth in the field of understanding the nature of music rather than something that would undermine the value of the work. Indeed, every aspect of the field of knowledge surrounding music will be affected by the new discoveries of cognitive neuroscience, and the reactions and adjustments made by all these various disciplines are likely to be interesting.

A Lot to be Happy About

We as a country have a lot to be happy about with the inauguration of our new president. It just dawned on me today that it's about so much more than "our side won" or "a really good candidate got elected" or "thank God the last eight years are over." It's a single event that marks the intersection of so many great things - a great need for change, a shift in our own identity as a country, the advancement of civil rights, domestic race relations, a new foreign policy, and I believe heartfelt willingness of Americans to make a long term commitment to reconsider our values and dreams.

There seems to be a lot of hope resting on the shoulders of Barack Obama. He's become a nearly messianic icon that people have so much hope for. This troubles some people, worrying that no man can live up to such expectation, and that the dreams so many have will crumble and fade. But I believe there is more than that. I think Obama is the man for the job - I think he's honorable, talented, remarkable in many ways. But what rallies our hopes and imaginations is in the intersection of history, our needs and our lives, with the life of the man we elected.

What I'm saying is that we have not only a lot to be happy about, but we also have a lot to be proud of. That the barriers of race are not as impassible as we would have thought not many years ago, that progressive, new ideas about foreign and domestic policy can be considered, that school children, relatives, artists and great leaders can engage in civil discourse, and be gracious in victory and honorable in defeat. There's really a lot going on, and every one of us is part of it.

That's what I'm so happy about - I don't feel the least bit inclined to ride the wave of euphoria to a crashing dissappointment, or to pin my hopes on the shoulders of a single mortal man, though I admire him. During the election, I was amazed at the frankness of our discussions, and the transparency with which we dealt with our faults and vulnerabilities.

I'm proud then, to be where I am now, and when I am now.

Music as Synthesis of Language and Movement

It was a good ten years ago that I participated in a high school band competition down in Florida. Our symphonic band played Elgar's "Enigma Variations," and even after I've been a professional musician for a number of years since, I still remember it was a knockout performance. It was thrilling to play, we were well prepared, and there were a number of musicians in the ensemble I was quite proud to perform with. The downside, really, were the judges comments. Now, as many of us were quite aware, our performance should have an intrinsic value, and it shouldn't bother us too much whether we "win" the competition or not. However, the judge's comments seemed to be neither positive, negative, or particularly informative. He just said "Music either dances or it sings...and Enigma sings!" And he panned the performance. I suppose we danced, instead of sang it? Why should it be one or the other? The judge's written comments weren't any more clear, and there was little he said or wrote that supportated any interpretation of what he was saying. It seemed there was something he wanted to say, though he couldn't articulate it. Or maybe he was just trying to say something to have something to say, and calling up stock general statements.

From my reading of Daniel Levitin's "This is your Brain on Music" I am coming to realize, on a neurological level, how music engages the brain both in ways that resemble language processing as well as ways that resemble and relate to expressive movement. In fact, the brain on music exhibits activity utilizing massive amounts of the brain's processing apparatus. Music seems to be unique in this as far as human activities go. I think that there is historical evidence in historical performance practice, organology and treatises on music theory that would support this as well.

Early music theory treatises regarding music of the 14th century or so (which are highly influenced by ancient Greek writings) tend to focus on the relationship of language to music, particularly in metered music setting text. Poetic feet bind text to rhythm in a fairly systematic way, and throughout the ages of rhythm theory, these relationships between long and short note values continue to be the basis of analysis, both at micro and macro structural levels. However, I feel that with the rise in instrumental music (notated) toward the end of the Renaissance there must be another ingredient. Performance practice on these instruments was likely not simply invented or derived solely from vocal performance. These instruments, often being adopted by European musicians through encounters with the Islamic world, would have had centuries of performance practice - at the very least, the interface and therefore playing technique would translate from one culture to another by the very physical nature of the instrument. The precise nature of this meeting of worlds and the exchange of instrumental technique, performance practice and even style and rhythmic content is of great interest to me, as I think it may be largely undocumented and yet a major infusion of style, structure and content in the development of western instrumental music.

The other, more clearly identifiable source of non-linguistic roots in rhythmic content is dance. The evolution of dance forms (structural and rhythmical) from functional courtly (and folk) dances through baroque forms they inspired, then through the classical, romantic and modern styles is gradual, yet discernible. The equation of rhythmic activity in music with the rhythmic activity in dance (and visceral movement in general) has existed for a long time, and the rhythmic content of music must have evolved along with our exploration of our exploration of our bodies in space, time, and against gravity, as well as regular patterns of movement we have developed for reasons of survival or culture.

If music were simply a derivation of language or a synchronized mimic of the body in motion, it would not be the mysterious obsession it is in human culture. There is something about music that is more than either of those activities, and functions in its own, indescribable world which is at once mysterious and syntactically consistent and functional.

Collaboration for the Megalomaniac

As I am shopping for a new car, I've been noticing all the different designs of cars, and the evolution of various models throughout the years. Some of them are really quite beautiful, and a few have them have really struck a chord with me in terms of taste and desirability. What impresses me most is how a car, even though it is mass produced, is a product of our culture and can be said to be beautiful - and yet it is a product of massive collaborative effort. One mind does not make a car, and there are really so many considerations that have to be made in order for a car to be designed, produced and marketed, running the gamut of designers, executives, consumers, safety guidelines, etc. How is it possible that every car design is not simply "mush" - a lowest common denominator output from the mess of too many cooks in the kitchen? Quite often this is in fact the case, and many cars do indeed look alike. But what about the Mazda RX-8, or the Volkswagon Beatle? Or the second generation Mitsubishi Eclipse?

Movies are the same way. There are many, many people with all sorts of motivations involved in film-making - investors, producers, actors, writers, directors, musicians. And they work together, tirelessly (or at least endlessly). Collaboration is necessary, given the amount of funds involved, the various types of expertise needed, and the interests of diverse parties. Again, like in cars, the results are not always astounding. And yet, occasionally Hollywood hits a sweet spot, and some amazing fusion of minds rises far above the realm of compromise, and we get matchings like Hitchkock-Hermann, Lucas-Williams or Burton-Depp-Elfman.

I am wondering why composers of classical music don't engage in collaborations more. In most fields I can think of, people work together at least occasionally on joint projects, often sharing authorship. Many important scientific papers credit multiple authors. And yet, composers tend to want to be masters of their own universe. Of course there are some advantages to that approach. The post-Beethoven composer as author-god is a heroic model that has a lot of appeal for an ambitious artist. But why not take the risk of surrendering, for just a moment, that administrative control, or that omni-powerful agency? I believe there is still plenty of room for creativity even with those things given up.

Last year, I worked on a film score with my colleague Mike West. Going into the project, it felt a bit odd (we had never done something like this before) making decisions and even writing actual music as collaborative artists, neither of us acting truly independant of the other. This process actually worked out, and the result was quite good and worthwhile. Granted, the process was rather exhausting - but I never felt afterward that I had made "compromises" of the bad sort. Rather, the results were unique, hybrid and the kind you don't get just tinkering around by yourself.

T. Rex Makeover

The Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh, PA has one of the oldest, largest and most impressive dinosaur collections anywhere on earth. And with the recent renovation of the exhibit, it is also one of the most informative. The dinosaur exhibit was featured in a 1980's episode of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, and dinosaurs have been one of those rare childhood fascinations that I never really outgrew.



I visited the museum a year ago, and the improvements so far were really remarkable. However, the T-rex exhibit was still under wraps and didn't open until this year. But my first impression when I walked into the room was "I thought it was bigger. Aren't there bigger T-rex's somewhere?" It took me a few mintutes before I realized what had happened. Historically, representations and bone-mountings of the Tyrannosaurus Rex had him (or her, since apparently males and females look almost identical) posed in a more or less kangaroo-like posture, supported on two legs and a tail (come to think of it, Godzilla stands pretty much like this). The effect is stunning - the majestic hugely tall stance can take your breath away. However, modern experts have realized that this stance is highly unlikely (it was impractical, slow and would probably cause him to dislocate his joints), and the new reconstruction of T-Rex has a body that is basically horizontal, with the tai stretched behind him for balance.



While the innitial "wow" of seeing the skeleton of T-rex in the room was a bit less than I had expected, and his size seemed less impressive, the more subtle and later-coming impact is even more remarkable. Dinosaurs always seemed quite amazing and incredible - but just that, something too unreal to really bring into my imagination as a living, breathing and powerful creature. My feeling, seeing him poised horizontally, was that he was indeed powerful - fast and agile as well. In fact, imagining him now in this corrected posture, he seems as plausible and full of ass-kicking potential as a giant reptillian Jet Li. There is also a really amazing computer animation model of the dinosaur, showing him walking on a treadmill at variable speeds. It's one of those cases where plausibility, rather than bursting the bubble of a superior fantasy, actually facilitates even greater respect and admiration.

Accumulated Musical Meaning at the Moment of Conciousness

The moment we call now is an awareness that may be quite unique to the human experience. It is a constantly changing point of origin from which we measure how far in the past events were, or how far into the future events are anticipated. We know that as we experience music, known structures are reconstructed in our faculties of perception, and that new structures are learned. Metrical configurations are accepted as a sort of template for other activity, and the mind becomes aware of the continuum of the flow of intensity (with such contributing factors as pitch level, timbre, harmonic "space," rhythmic activity, etc.).

A theory of rhythmic flow should take this specific moment of now into consideration. Every aspect of music contributes to the status of any specific point at which the listener is conscious, and has experienced, instant by instant, the piece up to that point. The contributing factors are truly diverse, and can be analyzed and mapped separately. However, they undeniably conspire to induce a state of consciousness in the listener, which at a distinctly human pace, evolves throughout the duration of the piece. If this state can be described succinctly, even in the case of the evolving state of a specific listener in a specific listening, then a map of this flow of effect can be drawn, and a diagram showing the sequential effect of contributing stimuli on this state can be made, potentially revealing patterns in this relationship.

Presuming that a graphic representation of this relationship could be created, results to look for would include:

Reaction to reoccuring thematic material
Fading of short term memory
Formation of longer lasting memories - and reinforcement of them
Change in state with abandonment of repetitive material (e.g., emerging from ostinati)
Change in state through fluctuation in tempi
Reaction to harmonic or mode-changing rhythm, and how it compares to note-durational rhythm

And there are a great many relationships which would be worth examining. Describing the quality of this state of consciousness in the listener can also take into consideration verbal description of the state by the listener himself, as well as certain biofeedback, including "foot-tapping" type reactions (head-bobbing and others as well), timed breathing, body temperature and heart rate. Existing experiments in cognitive psychology, particularly those involving memory and perception of structure, can be modified to produce data that would be useful in this investigation.