This blog figures in my accomplishments list. And though in many ways I don’t really qualify as a true blogger (I don’t post with enough regularity), underneath it all I try to keep a consistent approach.

“And what consistency might that be, Mr. Eclectica”? you ask.

Well, I’d say it’s an underlying ethic. I’m only motivated to research, write and post when I’ve got some insight to share. So this blog is definitely not a news or current events blog.

I’m also motivated by a sense of mission. Which goes like this:

WHEN YOU’RE TIRED OF THE COSTUME PARTY…

What I’m advocating through my writing, at bottom, can be best described as “sensibility training through learning a musical instrument“.

The idea is very simple. I’m reminded of it everytime I watch a YouTube clip of Bill O’Reilly – or any other traumatized (and traumatizing) war-monger.

What does the world need more of? Sensible People (and if that sounds too Brit-snotty to you: Perceptive People).

I start from a premise of basic perceptual awareness:

Q – What happens when your communication environment saturates your senses all day (and night) long?

A – My hunch: you become numb and your senses “close off”. Your receptiveness to new experiences atrophies.

Paradoxically, in this environment you need more and more intense stimulus to even feel alive, and to know who you are. “Culture” is therefore experienced as a closed loop of identity consumption and various forms of media addiction.

That’s what I mean by “the costume party”.

look at me! I’m worth loving, too!

Important to the amateurmusicians.net approach: I offer this concept of “sensibility training” in contrast to the more common motive of “getting the attention I need by putting on a musical act”.

This is not out of some higher-than-thou moral qualm, but because the attention-seeking ethic runs counter to the process of sensibility training to begin with.

It’s basic psychology, really.

Though self-expression is one of the key values of sensibility training, it’s narrow self-expression – or narcissism – that still dominates the airwaves today, a sure sign of our culture’s deep habit of sensory closure.

In contrast: what does it mean to seriously devote time and energy to learning a musical instrument, and a specific repertoire/genre? What is this learning doing for the learner?

open vs. closed

In terms of training, you may be wondering if there’s a distinction to be made between “sensibility” and “sensitivity”.

There is, unequivocally.

“Sensitivity training” refers to workplace initiatives that “help” employees learn the habits of thinking and doublespeak mandated by political correctness, to disallow “out of place” private judgment in a public context.

The habit that is learned at root is self-censorship. Which is what a lot of “sensible people” learn to do at a young age, thanks to “good rearing” and public education.

In opposition to this well-intentioned but insidious dogma, sensibility training is about getting people to gain self-knowledge – and knowledge about the world – by using rich, open and expressive means of communication.

Literally, sensibility training means: training the senses, learning a culture of the senses.

With regards to learning music, this means specifically: the process of painstakingly learning an instrument, and choosing a repertoire. The key skills and attitudes are: active listening and comparative musical analysis.

To obtain good results, a multi-genre and multi-disciplinary approach is key. Why?

As a musician, if you dedicate yourself to only one genre/style, you are reinforcing:

1. a tribal identity
2. a marketing category

As a learner, if you follow only one set of learning methods for each music style, you are reinforcing:

1. a fundamentalist attitude for one method over another
2. dependence over autonomy and self-direction

and before your attention drifts to that girl wearing a tight yellow t-shirt

Needless to say, there is a lot more to say on this topic, and this post should only be seen as a reminder of the basic motive for this blog.

In the final analysis: the discussion that needs to happen is on the significant role that a serious musician can play in today’s world, beyond cultural diversion.

That role to me is, in a nutshell: sensibility training. For both the musician and his/her audience.

I include it here because of the sheer contrast between this delicate performance, and the visual chaos of his heavily-annotated score featured in my previous post.

Beyond that, Gould’s performance here has the same effect on me as some of the melancholy textures in Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, with an added vulnerability that is really quite beautiful.

Like a broken-hearted Satie playing the music of Bach on a lonely winter day.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Btw, please don’t take the “take 844″ quip in my post title literally. I believe this recording was done in a few takes, but certainly not 844! It’s just my way of saying that Gould had played this piece many times over throughout his life…

That is, if horrible handwriting is an indicator of genius, my brilliance far outshines my shadow.

“Ah but, if this is true, then every doctor must be a genius too”, you say (of course, no self-respecting M.D. would dare write a legible drug prescription. That frisson of potential medical malpractice suits is so addictive!).

Anyways, I got this important clue about my unacknowledged semi-godhood from a display at the new Glenn Gould exhibition at the Museum of Civilization in Ottawa last week.

Here are pics of sheet music samples of the Goldberg Variations on display, covered – no, smeared! – with Gould’s prolix handwritten indications. A Glenn Gould coloring book, so to speak

What’s fascinating to me:

• Not only are the notes themselves unintelligible (or Gould-only-intelligible), but there’s so much scribbling that the music itself is unreadable!
• Lots of numbers and codes. Perhaps details about metre, finger positioning, track number. Dunno.
• Use of red for highlighting information.

Possible interpretations:

1. The note-making process is a key part of how Gould learns the mechanics of a piece (finger-placement, etc.).
2. Score annotation is an essential part of the memorization process (what some music teachers call “cementing”). When viewing a video clip at the Ottawa exhibit, I saw Gould in interaction with a producer, who told him after a take that a note was inaudible in his performance. Gould asked him the measure, and promptly cut in the passage for studio editing. Seems he had a precise visual memory of the score, like an orchestra conductor.
3. Obviously, since the scribbles cover the notes, the sheet music wasn’t used for performance. The music score in this case becomes a preparation document for musical interpretation. Gould really had structure and details all memorized, and used the approach of a conductor when playing music, often conducting himself with his hand, or even his body sway. In other words, his annotations are those of a conductor.

My conclusion? I got confirmation at this exhibit that Gould was truly breaking from of the “read-only” culture of concert appearances and making inroads into the “read-write” culture of studio manipulation, in his life-long pursuit of the philosophy of open-ended composition.

When I started this blog, I initially had this idea of a web resource for music practice advice.

Providing such a service, I thought, would help remedy a recurrent problem in music education. That is: despite the abundance of educational/mentorship options available to budding musicians today, useful resources on the topic of practice strategies and tactics – whatever the instrument – still seemed to be lacking.

To be sure, many music education publishing companies have published materials on the topic of music practice strategies (Homespun Tapes, Berklee Press, Hal Leonard, and others). And in any given urban area, musicians have access to a wide range of teachers and educational opportunities.

But in my own experience, I found that only a very few teachers have taken the trouble to systematize their tacit teaching knowledge into a set of principles, strategies, tools, etc. On the other hand, many published resources do just this, but they obvious can’t provide the personalized attention that teachers and mentors can, which is often needed for long-term learning projects.

My point: specialized music schools notwithstanding, there didn’t seem to be a real and/or virtual PLACE you could go to which would provide just such “integrated” support. So starting a blog based on giving practice tools, tips and advice would allow me, at the very least, to seek out such resources and organize them for a readership.

Well, that’s not where THIS blog went.

The reason? I realized this approach wasn’t really my strength. Turns out my talents and passions are better manifested in the creative treatment of educational ideas, and the analysis of new culture/communications trends. The “amateur musicians” part is simply the perspective from which I wanted to write and research my topics, the emerging “pro-am” movement.

So my original idea of an online guide for music practice tools and techniques went on ice.

oh when the saints, come marching in…

That said, I’m happy to tell you there’s a new practice tips and techniques aficionado on the block(osphere), and his name is Ben Clapton.

Ben Clapton is here to help you practice your instrument. That’s the name of his blog: Music Practice Tips. His mission:

How often does your teacher tell you to practice more, but doesn’t actually tell you how to approach it?
How many times have you practiced the same thing over and over, only to see it get worse in your lesson?
How many days have you not practiced, not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t feel inspired?
This site is devoted to these issues, giving you a resource that you can come to find inspiration, practice methods, and ways of effective practice and self-learning.

Looking through the articles, I’m impressed with the quality of content Clapton makes available for readers. New concepts and strategies are introduced and explained to help students re-think their approach, and integrate them into their (hopefully) daily practice routine. As well, the often-overlooked “attitudinal issues” – such as setting realistic goals and and practicing for performance-readiness – are given special attention on Music Practice Tips.

And it’s a well-organized blog, with a clear audience in mind. From the title page, a reader can see the latest article briefs (clickable, for full post access), a site mission summary to the right, and categories and popular posts to the left. The categories are well-chosen and relevant, mindful of problems and issues that typically arise from a music practice lifestyle.

how resourceful are your resources?

And more? I notice the curious “Practiceopedia” link in the Music Practice Tips blogroll, and click through, expecting to stumble upon some über-online resource or portal for musicians looking for “best practice”-type learning advice.

The Practiceopedia page reveals just such a resource.

Which brings me to the next point I wanted to make in this review: in a world where blogs and books are fighting it out for our attention, what makes a learning resource truly useful and valuable?

From what I can gather in the video overview, Practiceopedia is indeed one whopper of a resource. In a nutshell, the Practiceopedia value-added approach to learning music combines pedagogical theory with practical advice, into a set of logically organized sections navigable by learners, according to their needs.

Only thing: it is a book. In our case, this means a caveat: Practiceopedia’s greatest strength – from the point of view of its intended readership of young music students – may also be its greatest weakness.

For example, in Practiceopedia learning techniques are, from the user’s point of view, the means of navigating through the volume. As useful as this may be, it generally assumes that learners – and young learners in particular – are rational, purpose-driven, “best practice” seekers looking to optimize their learning process for best results.

In other words, in my view, the instructional design of Practiceopedia serves a somewhat-idealized reader: someone who is reflexive about their learning process, or at least will become so in his or her use the book over time.

In an instructional setting, who are the experienced learners? Music teachers.

So are students using the book as recommended? Is it producing good results? I’m not saying that the assumptions Practiceopedia makes about its readership are wrong, only that as a format it may not “hit the mark” with its intended audience, and rather may end up being a more useful resource for music teachers.

have hacks will travel

Since we are concerned about usefulness to the widest possible category of learners, I’ll contrast this “learning heuristics” approach to the “hacks” approach favored by Clapton on his blog.

Why the “hacks” format? For one, its sheer practical bent seems well suited to the hyper-fragmented attention world of the modern multi-media landscape. Indeed, many successful internet businesses owe their success in part to this format for content: Tim O’Reilly of O’Reilly Publishing has already reflected on the meaning of the success of his technology Hack Series. And if there’s one blog that is doing well in the blogosphere, it’s Lifehacker.com.

Simply put, the hacks approach is successful in providing focused answers to specific problems. Hacks can be simple, or they can be complex. In terms of advice, good hacks are mindful of the attitude of creative focus that learners have when they set their minds on solving a problem. Always a specific problem, mind you.

book 2.0

So here’s where the Music Practice Tips blog is, in my view, an improvement on book resources like Practiceopedia: beyond providing learners with a useful battery of learning techniques (no small feat!), it provides them with problem-solving tips that are easy to integrate into daily life, and does so in a timely manner.

Bottom line, here’s what Practiceopedia can’t do as a resource that Music Practice Tips can:

1. Practiceopedia is, again, a book. As useful and brilliantly designed as it may be, until it also turns into a blog (preferably with video and audio content), it risks suffering the fate that befalls books these days: Attention Deficit Disorder. Especially in the hands of young learners! That is, it may soon find itself at the bottom of a pile of other useful resources, on that dusty and neglected “serious stuff” desk, next to school homework. If it’s not part of their day-to-day culture…
2. Practiceopedia’s single-volume comprehensiveness also runs the risk of inducing in its users a passive psychology of “having all the bases covered”. In other words: it may ironically end up not being used as often as it should because “it has all the answers”.
3. Unlike on-line resources, Practiceopedia cannot evolve with its audience, nor create a community around the resources it offers. if there are any lessons we should have learned by now with regards to new media: design your information for knowledge capture, conversation… and tribes!

So there you have it. In the final analysis, if Music Practice Tips turns out to be a blog tribute – even extension – of Practiceopedia, then maybe this issue is all for naught and I can simply rest my case: we are getting the best of both worlds. To be sure, many of the concepts and techniques featured in posts on Music Practice Tips seem to be adaptations of concepts originating in Practiceopedia (…and if that’s the case, I’d recommend Mr. Clapton take Practiceopedia out of the Music Practice Tips Blogroll, and get an affiliate marketing deal going with the publishers of the book!).

For the moment, I’ve chosen to look at Music Practice Tips as an experiment in bringing ‘updated’ traditional music pedagogy out of the instructional setting, to the new natural environment of self-directed and passionate learners: the Internet and the blogosphere.

An experiment which I wholeheartedly endorse. Certainly, blogs that start off on the right foot deserve our full attention and support.

Like: why does it seems to me that nobody uses the word “energy” more loosely than musicians (OK, maybe Feng Shui practitioners, aging hippies, UN Eco-Popes, yoga teachers and crystal healers are energy fluff-aholics, too. But on the whole…)?

For example, I’m a musician – just back from a vacation in my hometown of Winnipeg, Canada (“Spirited Energy” is the provincial slogan!) – and I’ll tell you this: whenever I go through downtown Winnipeg, I can’t help noticing an office building which really gives me the creeps.

I mean, it’s all bad vibes.

Yes, it’s the Credit Union Plaza, 215 Garry Street. Here’s the building data:

• Date: 1976
• Architect: Smith Carter Architects
• Some (previous and current) tenants: Credit Union Central, Department of Transportation and Government Services, Gaming Control Commission

Yes, yes, “bad vibes”! Like that black monolith in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001!

So, totally flaky? Or am I just oversensitive with regards to sinister-looking things, like those animals who go crazy two hours before a major earthquake?

Probably. But I’m also a curious guy.

feng phooey

Alright Ladies. I don’t want to be delving into Feng Shui or Ouija just yet. Rather, I’m going to consult a few muses, and see what they make of any “vibes” – real and imagined – emanating from this building.

First muse: the science of acoustics, the link between music and architecture.

Our key diagnostic tool will be the concept of harmonics. Harmonic and harmony share the same Greek root harmonia, meaning “joint, agreement, concord” (also a goddess in Greek mythology).

In acoustics, harmonics are the basic over-tones or frequencies which, blending together in the vibration of an air passage, drum surface or string length, and make up the pitch (note) and timbre (sound “color”) of a given musical instrument.

In music, tonal harmony is the set of tone relations that govern musical concordance and dissonance, based on scale patterns within the tonal key system.

big-time flake makes important scientific discovery!

While these concepts are the stock and trade of every serious student of music, I’m going to take an immediate historical turn, to garner the insights necessary for unwinding this foul-building plot.

A bit of research on the origins of music theory shows that our Hard Science and New Age obsession over harmonics is admittedly of ancient origins.

The earliest theories of music that have come down to us have come from Ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras.

Pythagoras is famous for giving music theorists the basic concepts for understanding musical scale construction.

He did this by dividing a plucked, resonating string into sections, and comparing the length of each section in relation to other tone pitches. From vibrating string sections, Pythagoras observed divisions that bore fractional relation to one another.

Cumulatively, these vibrating segments came to be known as the harmonic series.

By way of example: pressing down exactly in the middle of a whole string length would produce a tone exactly an octave above the open string. Pythagoras assigned the numerical ratio 2:1 to express this relationship between string division and tone pitch.

The following graphic demonstrates the 2:1, 3:1 and 3:2 monochord ratios, using frequency measurements of Hz, or cycles per second.

The Pythagorean theory, in a nuthsell:

• Every pitch value exists in relation to another. Even a single vibrating open string is expressed as 1:1 ratio.
• Laws govern harmonic relationships, which are to be expressed as numerical ratios.
• The western tradition of tonal harmony developed from the systemization of Pythagoras’ approach.

harmony, meet the sphinx

Fair enough. But where does this take us with regards to our “building vibe” diagnostic quest?

Actually, down the road to a much more ancient doctrine.

What is often overlooked in our understanding of ancient music theory, is that Pythagoras attributed deep mystical value to numbers. His fully articulated doctrine – called Sacred Geometry – was considered an esoteric science for priestly or philosophical initiates only, and it is believed today that Pythagoras inherited and “secularized” this received body of mystical knowledge from Egyptian forebears.

The following video documentary provides some fascinating (if not controversial) background research on the ancient mystery schools from which it is believed Pythagoras derived his initiation (watch from segment 6 onwards for an intro on “The Sacred Science”).

Click here to view the embedded video.

Whatever you make of this type of historical investigation, it should at least be more obvious by now that musicians and sound engineers can claim no exclusivity to the art and science of harmonics. Indeed, following these ancient precepts, music is simply an applied branch in the set of knowledge disciplines that comprise “The Sacred Science”. These disciplines can be listed as follows:

• Chemistry
• Physical sciences
• Philosophy
• Medicine
• Astronomy
• Geometry
• Architecture
• Music
• Mathematics

magic and mystery in central Canada

If all this stuff seems rather far-fetched and esoteric to you, well… you’re right. I mean, there’s a building in Winnipeg which gives me the creeps, and somehow I’m trying to relate my subjective impressions of this building to the mystery schools of Ancient Egypt!

So perhaps I should begin making my point .

One of the reasons people take to learning a music instrument is the ability to express themselves through song and music. Concretely, that means learning to produce harmonious, melodic and rhythmic vibrations with their musical device, in keeping with the stylistic laws of any given musical genre.

In this way, just as I’m instinctively repelled by this building, I am subconsciously attracted to my instrument, knowing it is designed for creative harmonic purposes.

Indeed, if there’s one (flaky) thing we can derive from this “Sacred Science of Geometry”, it is that harmonics are universal. Everybody knows the cliché: “music is the universal language of humankind”. But scientifically speaking even rhythmic devices, such as a single drum resonate with harmonic frequencies.

So in a way, it seems the only difference between us and the ancients is that the ancients thought all things to be imbued with “mystical resonances” (harmonics), from the smallest being in the microcosm to the largest of celestial bodies.

So in effect, what am I doing? I’m just putting on an ancient mask to better sniff out some contemporary bad vibes.

Like Frank Albo, Manitoba’s most recent academic celebrity, now a celebrated architectural harmonics inspector. For those of you who haven’t heard of him, Frank has made a name for himself as expert in local esoteric lore in Winnipeg, with his landmark research on the Freemasonic origins of the Manitoba Legislature.

Here’s a televised segment of Frank doing a “magical mystery tour” of the legislature (apologies for the appalling hipness displayed by the show hosts). Of interest to us: there’s a neat demonstration of architectural harmonics in the final bit of the segment.

and what about glass pyramids?

So in the end, can Frank’s research methods provide me with the key to my local bad vibes diagnostic quest?

Well, if bad industrial design remains the main criteria for determining whether a building has Sick Building Syndrome or not, perhaps flaky musicians such as myself must ultimately have recourse to architectural harmonic assessments, as self-defense against psychically noxious sites.

‘Cause, unless you’ve got that special ear training, you’ll never really know when your local glass pyramid will spontaneously shatter.

(Great West Life glass pyramid, across the road from the Manitoba Legislature.)

I’d argue that changes in our communication technologies are enabling this home brew entrepreneurship revolution. For example, the so-called “Web 2.0” paradigm shift on the Internet, describes a new way of creating wealth with tools such as wikis, blogs and interactive content portals, where the bulk of content is generated by users.

In other words: today, it’s participation, collaboration and “user-generated content” that make or break new brands on the Internet.

More important for a musicians: Web 2.0 services and apps have helped break the traditional isolation of the DIY’er and the amateur. Think of all those home bodies putting up their latest musical achievements on YouTube, and the feedback they’re getting as a result.

Three years ago? Unheard of.

the pro-am revolution

This new social norm of active leisure and “user-generated content” is one of the main themes explored by British think-tank Demos in its publications. In their Pro-Am Revolution, Charles Leadbeater and Paul Miller (published as a .pdf document) describe the demographic, economic, educational and technological trends underpinning the increase in participation by previously marginalized actors in all areas of the knowledge economy.

And who are these previously marginalized upstarts? Simply dedicated amateurs?

Better. Leadbeater and Miller call these “new knowledge agents” Pro-Ams: passionate amateurs working within professional standards.

As a consultant to industry and goverment in the UK, Leadbeater has been a major proponent of the concept of an “innovation commons”. In a presentation at TED, he describes the new culture of Pro-Ams with examples from the fields of science, manufacturing, and law, and further provides policy recommendations, applicable to both public and private sectors.

a manifesto for makers

The macro-trends described by Leadbeater and Miller help us situate the culture shift in the larger context. But that doesn’t necessarily give voice to the experience of the New Amateur (or “Pro-Am”), or describe the psychology of making as a way of life.

In other words, is Pro-Am activity simply “occupational”, or is it a new ethic?

I turn here to University of Helsinki researcher and blogger Ulla-Maaria Mutanen for some help. On her Hobby Princess blog (republished in Make Magazine) you’ll find a curious Craft Manifesto.

The Manifesto is Mutanen’s attempt to encapsulate – in the plainest language possible – the conditions, rewards and implications of making, as an economic activity and as a way of life.

Though I encourage you to read it in full (it’s short), here are some highlights as they relate to my talking points (note: though the statements below mostly apply to the making of physical craft objects, musicians should be able to “transpose” these insights at the level of music-making activity and creativity. If you simply replace “objects” and “things” with “music”, you’ll get my point):

1. People get satisfaction for being able to create/craft things because they can see themselves in the objects they make. This is not possible in purchased products. [...]

4. People seek recognition for the things they have made. Primarily it comes from their friends and family. This manifests as an economy of gifts.

5. People who believe they are producing genuinely cool things seek broader exposure from their products. This creates opportunities for alternative publishing channels.

6. Work inspires work. Seeing what other people have made generates new ideas and designs.

7. Essential for crafting are tools, which are accessible, portable, and easy to learn. [...]

10. Learning techniques brings people together. This creates online and offline communities of practice.

11. Craft-oriented people seek opportunities to discover interesting things and meet their makers. This creates marketplaces.

12. At bottom, crafting is a form of play.

What’s relevant from these statements (individually and taken together), is that we gain insight on the amateur as a passionate maker or crafter, engaged in his/her art or craft as a way of life (as I like to insist upon).

Further, this ethic of making can today become widespread and cross-cultural, as we gain new tools for socializing and sharing knowledge.

Finally, the communities of practice that arise from the new communication tools enable us to rediscover old forms of wealth that emphasize “relationship capital” – that is, what Mutanen refers to as the gift economy.

the cathedral & the bazaar

By all means, Mutanen isn’t the first cultural commentator on the (new) gift economy block. Indeed the concept of a “potlatch economy” most famously took off recently with the publication, in October 1999, of Eric Raymond‘s book The Cathedral and the Bazaar – another manifesto, this time for the open source movement in software and (networked) IT development.

Despite the brouhaha it generated around open vs. proprietary code and business models, the Cathedral and the Bazaar had the merit of analyzing the motivations of inter-connected individuals who dedicated time, talent and resources for the benefits of robust software, with no financial rewards in view.

Raymond’s conclusions? In the bottom-up, “bazaar” model of massively distributed collaboration, the sharing of resources, tools, techniques and knowledge are the new social norm. He saw that this type of wealth-creation followed the patterns of what anthropologists called “reciprocal exchange”: the gift economy.

In a nutshell:

• The more you give, the more prestige/value you have in the eyes of your peers.
• If making implies giving: the more you make, the more you are capable of truly bonding with all your significant others, since your gifts are personalized.

In other words, making is as inwardly focussed (creativity, self-expression) as it is outwardly (gifts, social prestige).

Thus, we can now measure the richness of our culture by the respect and recognition given to the most dedicated and unique makers – whether professional or amateur – in our midst.

Never fear! We’re living in a brave new age of gurus, and there’s a solution-head out there for every spiritual and practical problem that ails’ ya.

Here’s a shortlist of techniques and approaches from trusted authorities in the science of motivational dynamics, hand-picked by yours truly to help you dispel those blues, and set you on the path to peak performance!

Dr. Pavlov’s (Re)Move approach

A classic! Used by all standing armies of the world. And evil geniuses too.

It works like this. First, you deprive yourself of something that you instinctively need. Then you enter into a pact with yourself that you’ll only fulfill that need when you’ve gotten around to accomplishing that important task you’ve been so woefully neglecting.

In our case: practicing our instrument.

Example: deprive yourself of your favorite food. If you’re supremely lazy, deprive yourself of a food you can’t do without, such as water, or coffee. Practice until dehydrated. Then reward yourself with a much-needed beverage.

Repeat until famous.

The official theory: behaviorism, esp. classical conditioning. Some of its fanciest words are: conditioned-reflex response to behavioral stimulus (I’m riffing, here).

Caveat: if this method doesn’t work, and you start to feel like a demoralized rat stuck in a cage, at least you can take comfort in the fact that you’ve become very good at manipulating yourself.

Dr. Loyola’s Seven Lively Virtues approach

Speaking of instincts, doesn’t your repudiation of discipline have everything to do with succumbing to your base instincts?

No cure for that, mate: biology is destiny! you say.

Don’t be so rash. Ever heard of righteous self-denial, or leavened grace? What about celibacy? Or HLCHFPI?

Following the percept of Papal Infallibility, Dr. Loyola and his Society of Jesus (otherwise known as the Jesuits) offers a rigorous program for combating what top Catholic theologians call the Seven Deadly Sins.

In Latin, the acronym for the sins (that keep you from practicing) is SALIGLIA, which stands for Superbia (pride/vanity), Avaritia (greed/avarice), Luxuria (lust), Invidia (envy/jealousy), Gula (gluttony), Ira (wrath/anger) and Acedia (sloth).

The countervailing virtues actively promoted by the Jesuits are summarized by the acronym HLCHFPI, which stands for (don’t ask me what these mean in English, ok?): Humilitas, Liberalitas, Castitas, Humanitas, Frenum, Patientia, Industria.

So there you have it. From the orthodox Catholic standpoint, it all comes down to SALIGLIA vs. HLCHFPI. And guess which of the two is easier to pronounce?

Caveat: Though it’s easy to associate the Jesuits with a life a discipline and self-denial, they’re pretty sensitive about being mixed up with Opus Dei. Be careful!

Dr. Spock’s Baby Whispers approach

Dr. Benjamin Spock, that is. Not Mr. Spock.

In stark contrast to the Jesuits’ disciplinary outlook, the highly influential (and controversial) methods of Dr. Spock have long promoted the view that a more “permissive” and “attentive” approach to childrearing, may paradoxically yield more self-directed and self-confident adult personalities.

So it goes for music skill acquisition. Assuming your music learning project is in its infancy, what seems the best approach to take?

Follow the precepts of Dr. Spock. Lavish your maternal instincts onto your instrument. Be constantly attentive to its every need. When it cries, pick it up. Also: reward it with gleeful applause for the simplest of accomplishments. Finally, truly learn to listen to your instrument, and don’t assume that a lack of sound is an absence of potential musicality!

And please, don’t let it sleep in its’ case: cuddle with your instrument in bed at night. Make sure your partner is supportive: it’s a little person’s future that’s at stake!

Caveat: be careful not to confuse Dr. Spock with Dr. Phil. That guy’s a Dr. Spock impostor sent by the Jesuits to get America back down on its knees!

Dr. Doppelgänger’s Outsource It! approach

Just another way of saying that you can program your digital avatar to do all the practicing for you in Second Life.

Or: let every musician who’s ever recorded a worthy note or track provide you with the musical materials to mix with you machine-generated beats.

If you’re a DJ.

Better yet, you can follow Tim Ferriss’ advice and outsource your practice routine for $5.00 a week, while you sip strawberry daiquiris on some beach in Thailand.

Dr. Freud’s Nimble Fingers approach

In this approach, everything little thing you do in life, every object you use, every innocuous preference you express toward someone or something, is but a thinly veiled substitute for projections of your sex and death drives.

Death drive!?! Well, that’s the part I don’t really understand with Freud.

But sex drive? Man, if we had to distill the lessons from a century of advertising into a single formula, it surely would be this! Take it from Edward Bernays, Freud’s nephew and the inventor of PR, who taught women to equate smoking with freedom, without them being aware of it, thanks to the magic of sublimated sexual desire in advertising.

On the music front: doesn’t this “projection of your sex drive” business clarify your choice of instrument, and the reason why you love/hate to practice it?

Why is it strange to think of drummers practicing their kits? What are pianists really doing, going up and down that keyboard? And what about the harp, its peculiar shape, and the delicate plucking technique of its finest practitioners? Tuning? Ergonomics?

Wind instruments? Don’t get me started…

So there you have it: why do all those lead guitarists play their axe so fast? Why did Toscanini buck around on his grand stand, with that white stick flailing about? Why did Jimi Hendrix set his guitar on fire, and Pete Townshend smash his at the end of every concert?

According to Herr Dr. Freud, practicing your instrument is a sublimated form of masturbating.

You got it! Go nuts!

Andrew is founder of the Community Guitar Program, as well as being the director and coordinator of Django In June, the only annual music camp in North America dedicated to the pursuit of gypsy jazz musicianship. For a more complete bio, click here.

[audio:AndrewInJune-QT.mp3]

The interview was recorded on Saturday July 15th, in Northampton, circa 2pm. As it is close to 50 minutes in duration, here is a time-line of the main discussion points, should you wish to jump to specific parts of the interview:

0:15- intro + Django In June ’07
3:00- Django In June challenges
4:00- who came to Django In June ’07
8:15- Community Guitar – intro
9:00- origins of Community Guitar
11:30- the CG vision: music as a shared experience
12:25- why focus on the guitar?
14:25- basic principles of the group instruction model for instrumentalists

• step 1 – instructor as matchmaker
• step 2 – focus on repertoire that’s good for jamming
• step 3 – learn the skills required for a group playing context

17:00- CG: startup challenges
20:30- what musical styles work best for the CG format?
21:50- vocal repertoire?
24:15- assessing instrument skill levels
25:30- skill level 1: technique + theory + repertoire
26:50- skill level 2: technique + theory + repertoire
29:40- skill level 3: technique + theory + repertoire
31:05- gypsy jazz suited for CG curriculum?
31:50- academic model vs. recreational program
35:10- a new concept of leisure
37:55- the future of CG
39:25- new options for guitar teachers
40:10- scaling CG
41:00- demand for CG
42:55- how the CG guitar model fits with existing institutions

If you think you’d like to start a Community Guitar Program in your hometown (link) – or pilot a Community Guitar Program from your music store – or if you’re simply curious and would like more information, you can contact Andrew here.

Thanks again Andrew, for your time, and for this amazing experience! See you next year at Django In June!

Why Northampton? What’s so special about the place?

• Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were allegedly spawned there.
• One of my all-time favorite movies – Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf – was filmed (in part) in Northampton.
• According to Wikipedia, some of the more illustrious members of the community were signers of the Declaration of Independence (though haven’t found out who, yet).
• Perhaps a repayment of karmic debt for the witch trials hosted all over New England way back when in the 18th century, the town is also home to Smith College, one of the leading liberal arts colleges for women in the United States (where I’ll be lodging for the duration of my stay, in a residence).
• There’s an Easthampton that’s southwest of Northampton, and a Southampton that’s further south of Easthampton.
• Sci-fi writer Kurt Vonnegut stayed in “Paradise City” (Northampton’s nickname) for a while.
• And much, much more…

My reason for going is, of course, musically-related. I’m going to Northampton to attend the Django In June music camp, a one-of-a-kind week-long gypsy jazz music seminar! From the DIJ homepage:

Django in June is really two events in one. For the general public, we’ll host concerts on both Friday and Saturday nights at the lovely Helen Hills Hills Chapel. These shows offer the opportunity to enjoy world-class Gypsy jazz artists in a live, intimate setting — without the additional expense and bother of a flight to Europe! If you already know which concert(s) you would like to attend and you just need tickets … You are also invited to a dinner showcase on Wednesday evening featuring our own Swing Caravan at the Sierra Grille in downtown Northampton.

For musicians, (including players of guitar, violin, mandolin, accordion and bass), we offer a variety of opportunities to learn and share. This year, for the first time, musicians will have the option of attending Django Camp — the first such music camp in the US devoted entirely to Gypsy jazz — which will run from Tuesday evening through Sunday noon. For those who would rather just drop in on the weekend for jamming, a la carte clinics and performances as we’ve done in the past, that will still be an option and we’d love to see you.

Though there will be many gypsy jazz luminaries present at the camp, I’m especially thrilled to know I’ll be able to meet Andrew Lawrence, the organizer and coordinator of the event. He’s the brains, heart and soul behind the Community Guitar Program in Northampton and environs.

Basically, the Community Guitar Program is a new type of educational offering to musicians in any local setting, using a group-learning instructional model developed by Andrew over a period of many years. The history page on the CGP site describes the genesis of his instructional model, and details the challenges and opportunities specific to the group learning format for musicians. During my stay in Northampton, I’ll see if Andrew’s got time for a recorded Q&A session, enough that I can distill into an amateurmusicians.net podcast upon my return to Montreal.

So there you have it. I’m pretty much all set to go. Depending on how loaded the schedule will be, I’ll try to keep a log of my Django In June experience as it happens. Otherwise, you’ll get the full summary when I’m back.

Until then… Viva le Django!

Alas, before Santa Fritz can grab the first gift, your mom stands up, and blurts out to all ears: “Wait, wait! Before we open any gifts… Billy, why don’t you get your violin and play us a few Christmas songs? Wouldn’t that be lovely, everyone?”

pack o’ nerves with a bow in hand

Egad!! What did she just say? Alas, before you can raise any objection, the clamor to hear you summon the Yuletide muse overtakes the room. Every family event needs its music, right? Looks like it’s time to enter the ring and deliver the goods. No way out of this one!

Yes, this truly happened to me, on more than one occasion (different family, only passing resemblance to the characters above). And how well did I play those Xmas carols, prithee?

Here’s a video of truly bad kids’ violin playing, a tad worse than my own chops back in those days. I dare you to listen to it until the end.

Click here to view the embedded video.

know thine audience?

Back to my story. So the impromptu gig is over, everyone’s now fully gaga over the presents. As you pack your instrument, you think to yourself, in ultimate Christmas sag: “now every Uncle Tom, Dick and Jerry knows I play the violin. And badly, at that. Yeah, Merry Christmas, mom.”

OK, why this story? Here’s what I’m getting at.

You know your family. And they know you. A recipe for artistic triumph?

Today’s top internet marketing gurus emphatically insist that you gotta get to know your market/audience, that “your audience/client is your friend”. Driving this new reality is that we live in a brave new age of transparency, they say, and the trend is only going to deepen in every sphere of life.

Yet have we fully understood what we mean by such assertions? You wanna get to know all these people, warts and all?

First off, are we talking about individuals, or groups? We all know what difference it makes when you’re getting to know people one-on-one versus the round-table approach. How this relates to my point is that the communication tools which allow us to deepen our knowledge of our customers/audience today are both one-to-one and many-to-many, in terms of relationship potential and process. Blogs and wikis are two such examples.

And so in this new, more relationship-intensive marketplace, exactly what kinds of relationships are we looking at? In other words, in terms of my story, are you sure you want to bring everyone into the family?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I love/hate you all!

Professional musicians will attest to this experience, which can be more extreme from their point of view. How many times have you heard a pro say they’d much prefer playing to strangers than to a room full of family members?

After all, as the story goes: “these people know me! if my performance bombs, can I then truly carry the family torch in public?” In other words, in front of your folks a performance is always more than just a performance: there are unspoken expectations to meet, and reputations to carry beyond one’s own. Indeed, I’d argue that in the very nature of your performance and style the family must be able to somehow recognize the image it has of itself.

Indeed, an audience of strangers can provide a professional performer with two routes of escape from such pressures. If the audience doesn’t like it, they can simply bookmark their experience with a quick and dirty label: “it sucked”, or, “waste of time and money”, etc. Beyond faring worse in one’s career if this trend continues, there’s no weighty corporate responsibility to carry for the performer. And if the audience does like it, stranger-ness in itself is worth its own weight in mystique gold. An artist can capitalize upon this mystique effect, esp. in the creation of his/her public image and persona.

At the extreme of anonymity, there’s busking and street performance, particularly in urban areas of high pedestrian density. Here, you’re playing pretty much exclusively to strangers, whether passers-by or temporarily attentive throngs.

Not only does this remove the pressure to play to bolster family pride or to prove your stuff to friends, but at times it even removes the pressure of… having an audience at all. I myself have busked in such situations, in Vancouver, Canada, in Paris, France and London, England. I can tell you that after a while, the experience is pretty much like: “if a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it fall, is there really a tree?”

Therefore, I must inevitably conclude that any musical endeavor, no matter how private, at the very least implies an audience. You can’t remove performance from music.

so you play an instrument?

You know what they say about success: preparation meeting, uh, opportunity. Surely this saying should apply not just to those of us who aim for the stars, but to anyone clockin’ in the hours on their fave musical instrument, week in, week out, “just for the hell of it”.

Seriously. Unless you intend to keep your music passion and leisure activities an official state secret, someone’s bound to ask you someday to play for them. So what kind of preparation do you have up your sleeve for those moments opportunity knocks on your bedroom door?

It’s strange indeed how many amateur musicians don’t think of their learning progress in terms of performance-readiness. Think about it, when you say “amateur musician”, what come to mind? Probably one of two things: someone practicing an instrument at home, in cosy anonymity, and someone playing for family and a group of friends, again in a home setting.

Indeed, probably the most familiar image of amateur musicians in our cultural history is that of youth playing for the family in the living room or parlour. In fact, here’s a pic of me, at age 14, one year after I had formally quit my violin lessons. Apparently the family still craved more “shaky bow” experiences, despite my despondent retirement from dedicated music practice.

Strangers and Acquaintances! Introducing…

In the final analysis, you’re more nervous in front of your peers because it’s the family/tribe reputation that’s at stake. Though reputation is always an issue with playing in public, playing in front of family can be more emotionally distressing because of all that baggage that comes with family pride (or shame!). Not to mention that notoriously elephantine family memory, always ready to make you relive old embarrassments, 60 years down the road.

In terms of performance-readiness, deciding which style of amateur musicianship to go for might then also depend on your “standing” (i.e. the quality of your relationships) in your circles of allegiance, family, friends, etc. In a nutshell: how savvy you are with the high-stakes game of tribal politics.

So my guideline for “knowing my audience” is: whether you’re doing market research, or simply playing in the kitchen, take the “I like you, you like me” principle with a grain of salt. Rather, as Dame Evelyn Glennie puts it, focus on “making a difference” – to both the people you know and don’t know.

Click here to view the embedded video.

What fascinates me the most is this staggered wave effect in response to the patterned musical motif. For best results, try the full screen version by clicking on the YouTube logo at the lower right hand corner of this video to go to its YouTube page, and then clicking on the full-screen button below the player.

If you let yourself be hypnotized by what you’re seeing, you’ll start to see a “ghost wave” effect – even depth perception of shifting dream landscapes – much like the ethereal visuals achieved by film animation wizard Frédéric Back, in his famous film L’homme qui plantait des arbres (The Man Who Planted Trees).

Of note: the volume peaks are clearly visible, due to overly-accented top string playing, ugh. Nevertheless, I got this rather poetic result using the “synchronous” setting on my oscilloscope software. Btw, I also recorded a faster, more technically perfect version which, oddly enough, was less interesting to watch due to the uniformity or “matching” of the waves. It may be a stretch, but perhaps this wave matching effect has something to do – albeit below conscious awareness – with the preference for fast speed in most renditions of this prelude.

Otherwise, any of you acoustics techies who could further explain what we’re seeing here?

Listen, friend. Don’t even think about “getting tased”.

Rather, consider this quote by classical guitarist Julian Bream insightful, on his choice for a Life in Music:

As we settle, a little anxiously, into the 21st Century, it appears to me that we have become obsessed with speed and various forms of electronically induced communication.

The performance of serious music on the other hand pursues its own natural rhythm as its articulation unfolds organically in physical time. It was this natural and deeply expressive feature that drew me inexorably toward music as a young man, to become eventually the raison d’être of my life’s work.

En français:

Au fur et à  mesure que nous entrons, non sans quelque inquiétude, dans le XXIe siècle, il me semble que nous sommes obsédés par la vitesse et par diverses formes de communication induites par l’électronique.

Mais l’exécution de musique sérieuse suit son propre rhythme naturel et son articulation s’épanouit organiquement dans le temps physique. C’est cette caractéristique naturelle et profondément expressive qui m’a attiré de manière inexorable vers la musique dans ma jeunesse et qui est finalement devenue la raison d’être de l’oeuvre de ma vie.

Pretty basic, but works for me. The quote was gleaned from the booklet accompanying the DVD: Julian Bream, My Life In Music, which is produced and distributed by Music on Earth.

Paradoxically, as electronic communications speed up information to the point of pure pattern (pace McLuhan), doesn’t information overload actually slow down human communication? Communication requires that we make meaning out of what we perceive: this takes more time when you’re swimming in speeded-up info, no?

So it would seem that getting back to our senses is the ultimate art form, and ‘serious musicians’ – to use Bream’s expression – make this process their daily sacrament.

Indeed, thanks to the BBC’s Look Around You, my anger with the industrial-age assumptions that drive much of the world’s formal educational systems is ripe and fresh anew. That’s because Look Around You offers a satirical view of educational films and TV programs, and satire as a comedic technique brings assumed ideology to awareness, by matching ridiculous content to the style of communication being lampooned.

In this case, the didactic presentation of a traditional “school subject” is being run over roughshod, for gratuitous fun’s sake.

This Week’s Subject: of Music and Men

Satire? Smell a (musical) rat coming? Well, you’re wrong. Episode 6 of Look Around You, is about: a mouse.

Click here to view the embedded video.

After Watching the Video, Write It Down

Ok, you’ve watched the clip. Here’s my Look Around You Episode 6 Talking Points, in Q & A format:

Q – What is Music?
A- Any combination of tones designed to effect mood change (see element Mu on the periodic table of the elements – note that Mu‘s atomic number is a standard time signature, lol). Conclusion: music is a technique of applied behaviorism.

Q – Do animals have music?
A – No, and their music-like noises are vain, useless and irritating.

Q – Can you imagine a world without music?
A – Nope. Not worth trying. Not even a little. We’re too lazy for that.

Q – How is a modern song composed?
A – Feed instructions in Input/Output sound computation device. Conclusion: the device programmer holds the key to all your musical ideas. Note: device itself may run on British tin-pan-alley composer DNA.

Q – Where can I get the lyrics to Little Mouse?
A – Here.

Q РWhere can I purchase a bǫte diabolique?
A – I don’t know. As a committed masochist, I’d certainly like to find one for my boudoir. For the moment, I recommend peppering your compositions with The Devil’s Interval.

By Their Spoofs Ye Shall Know Them

So… aside from the laffs, did you learn anything by watching the program? Anything beyond a few fun facts? Did any of your questions about music get answered?

Not me.

Well, that was the whole point of course. If you’d like to further deepen your confusion, might I recommend the Look Around You music quiz:

In the end, if Look Around You proves anything, it’s that genuine insight is – as a rule – systematically excluded from subject-based educational programming. Effective satire makes the farce of traditional “subjects” and “topics” more obvious, by highlighting the fact that any method which reduces human knowledge to factual data tends also to exclude human (and animal!) purpose from its object.

Recently pondering on the movers and shakers of my life, I’ve been left wondering how many other wannabe violin virtuosos Vivaldi must has spawned.

And, conversely, how many misguided career choices. We’ve all heard of people who were compelled in childhood to take up an instrument for the wrong reasons, usually because of parental vanity, or even sibling rivalry, where ambition and competitiveness motivate a “future music star”.

Resulting usually in excellence matched with soullessness. American Idol material.

So the question is: if you’re following a star, to which galaxy does it belong? Your parents’? The music industry’s? Your own? Since we’re here to consider the “right reasons” to take up a life in music, let’s have look at what star just might be worth following to begin with.

on getting the sacred fire

If I’m not mistaken, in any youngster’s life, the intense desire to learn an instrument usually starts with a “sacred fire” type incident. I’ve had mine, you’ve no doubt had yours. A lot of musicians I know remember the exact moment when they decided: “That’s it! I must learn to do this (or else live a life of quiet desperation)”!

“To do this“, referring to a sacred mission of learning an instrument – a most enviable skill – and playing that amazing music.

My point: as a rule, this intense yearning starts with the performance of a specific piece of music. Beyond the anecdotal, it’s the meaning of that moment of “vocational calling” that interests me, in terms of its core educational value. And for lack of a better term, I will refer to the impact of this decisive experience on a young musician as a “Musical Archetype”.

all the things you are, and destined to become

What is a “Musical Archetype”? In other spheres of culture, the same phenomenon is known as Great Art, Great Literature, or even “Great Lives”, in the sense of having an inspiring biography.

In educational terms, your archetypal piece – or set of pieces – will set up the emotional and imaginative ground rules for your long-term musical goals.

You may have guessed: my inspiration is somewhat Jungian. In the vein of Jungian Archetypes, the concept of “Musical Archetype” expresses – as a rule – how key musical experiences can expand one’s sense of self beyond the narrow practical view of the everyday self, into a more profound and timeless, experience of life – imaginative, trans-historical, cultural, even tragic or heroic.

In social terms, this “expanded sense of self” can be understood as the total musical career of a successful individual. Indeed, the most successful musicians are completely identified with their Musical Archetype, as for example, Glenn Gould with Bach’s Golberg Variations: one and the same.

the golden rule

In this way, the emotional and imaginative “ground rules” laid down by a Musical Archetype are the “golden rule” of my music pedagogy.

Stated simply: if you had only one piece to learn on your instrument, which one would it be? Or: what piece of music must you learn to play – and on which instrument – before reaching your deathbed?

Second, having mastered it, where and to whom must you perform it?

And with this overarching goal in mind, how will you focus on all the technical issues that arise as you learn to play your instrument? Who will you seek out as a mentor, to help you on your way to reaching your musical goals? What kinds of support will you need to successfully pursue this lifestyle?

and there’s a twist…

The concept of “Musical Archetype” is perhaps a new way of restating that classic question of a musician’s core mission and aspirations in life. Amateur or professional. In fact, whether you’ve had your own “sacred fire” moment or not, what matters the most is that you should have a Musical Archetype to guide your purpose, as a constantly evolving musician.

But here’s where the concept of “Musical Archetype” ups the ante: if, for whatever reason, you don’t manage to become a musician and carry on your musical mission, you nevertheless have made a major discovery about yourself by experiencing this great piece of music, your Musical Archetype.

hear for your self

Now for a couple examples from my life. In my case, it seems the archetypal pieces themselves have varied with the instrument. In the two example I’d like to share, both pieces are considered magisterial in their spheres (hmm, what does that tell you about me … whatever the case, both pieces do tell great stories).

For the violin: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Here’s a performance of the Four Seasons by superstar Nigel Kennedy – worth seeing for the camerawork, too! (Click on the Youtube logo at the bottom right hand of the video to open the clip in a separate window and gain access to the other parts of this performance)

Click here to view the embedded video.

For the guitar: Bach’s Chaconne. By Japanese classical guitar whiz Kaori Muraji. (Click on the Youtube logo at the bottom right hand of the video to open the clip in a separate window and gain access to the second part of this performance)

Click here to view the embedded video.

why Vivaldi made me do it

In summary: a Musical Archetype is a piece of music which encapsulates the full flowering of the genre you feel closely identified with as a musician, the complete realization of a vision or vocation for music as a way of life.

As a “personal golden rule”, a Musical Archetype is the unique vision of life that a great performance of a great piece of music expresses, better than you ever could by any other means, and which deeply resonates with you, guiding personal self-transformation.

My learning formula, in a nuthshell: which piece of music, which performance and which performer best express – as Martin Luther King put it – the content of your character, whether as a child or as an adult (preferably both!)?

When you find your Musical Archetype, you will have your true emotional and spiritual reason for taking up music.

Aching Back? Sitting Up Straight Could Be The Culprit

Science Daily Researchers are using a new form of magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) to show that sitting in an upright position places unnecessary strain on your back, leading to potentially chronic pain problems if you spend long hours sitting. The study, conducted at Woodend Hospital in Aberdeen, Scotland, was presented today at the annual meeting of the Radiological Society of North America (RSNA).

OK, so now my ears are peeled: what will be the reaction of music teachers to this news?

If you’re like me, you’ve probably had some experience with music teachers. You may have come across at some point a teacher (or two), who can only be described as a “correct posture nazi”.

In my case, unhappily, it was my first music teacher, a catholic nun. As a ten year-old learning the violin, I found the orthodox stance for the instrument highly straining on neck and arms. My teacher, unsympathetic to my growing and adaption pains, used stark methods to ensure I maintained the “correct position” at all times. She would tape any fingers straying from the bow back onto the bow, and violently pull out my elbow anytime she saw me slouch an inch.

The whole process of practicing and lessons became full of dread and tension. As a result of my teachers well-intended but tyrannical methods, I had quit playing the violin within three years.

Out With the Old, In With the New

Happily, times have changed, and teachers of this ilk are now a dying minority. Due to the spate of career-destroying injuries in the music world, postural issues have become a focal point of recent medical attention in performing arts medicine. With the addition of the Alexander technique, the Feldenkrais method and Yoga to conventional musical training, it is now common practice to match the appropriate battery of techniques to the unique physique and instrument choice of each musician.

And so with this research find on back posture, it’s looking like nail-on-the-coffin time for the Old Guard of traditional music pedagogy. No longer will generations of mere mortals have to endure watching slouching musical geniuses performing miracles on their instruments, all the while keeping a ruler-straight back for hours under the spell of the metronome on the practice front.

We’re all going to be virtuosos now, and play by our own rules

Of course, I expect there will be the nay-sayers to the research, who will insist on a single correct posture for playing a musical instrument. To these I will relate the following advice:

Get off the dogma, bud. To each his own scientists.

Which brings us to the issue of…

The Politics of Research

Now, there’s nothing I enjoy more than a good mudslinging science battle. You know how it goes: key findings in a given domain completely contradict one another. And so opposing research gangs start to get vicious, as in: “your researchers are corrupted with money, ours are pure and disinterested”. And mudslingers are especially sanctimonious if their funding originates from the public trough, instead of corporate deep pockets.

I came across a fun example of this while on a research gig for a TV documentary on urban legends.

It’s about exposure to sunshine and the risks of skin cancer. Common wisdom would have it that prolonged exposure to sunlight without adequate skin protection will increase one’s risk in developing a malignant skin cancer. While doing research for the doc, I stumbled on newspaper headlines claiming the contrary: that insufficient exposure to “raw sunlight” would increase one’s risk of developing many types of cancers.

You can imagine the confusion such findings create, considering the sound advice that’s been drilled into our heads from chilhood onwards, on the necessity of putting on sun cream when we’re out enjoying the sun.

But I was intrigued by the polemics that followed in the wake of these articles. In letters to the editor, indignant MD’s who would accuse the reseachers of being highly irresponsible, and of not-so-subtly promoting a corporate agenda (of course, many of those same MD’s uncritically push pills on a regular basis). The researchers’ response, published in the days that followed, was to point out that the cosmetics industry had played a large part in determining the findings on the harms of exposure to the sun.

So the whole affair became a war between the Vitamin Trust (Vitamin D is the answer) and the Cosmetics Trust (sunscreen is the answer). Hilarious.

As this was a documentary series on urban legends, my role was to uncover research and claims that “bordered on the folkloric”. But from this controversy, I quickly saw the flip side of the coin: the very premise of the series could serve as a powerful way to dismiss new controversial findings, and reify the status quo.

Result: no shortage of MD’s now who acknowledge the existence of the new findings, but continue recommending the use of sunscreen and of Vitamin D pills – both supplied by the pharmaceutical trust – as preventative measures against various cancers.

In other words, seems like “common sense preventative approaches to cancer” may have benefited from a series of well-funded, highly successful PR campaigns for their dissemination.

Sigh. I can’t help but think: why can’t the lab-coats just get off their horse and confess to the world that scientific knowledge isn’t truth, but method. On this ground we’d always be able to discuss the stuff of knowledge, and agree on the best course of research for desired outcomes.

Alas, every age has its brand of idolatry. Ours is “unimpeachable facts”.

This clever rant by comedian Rob Paravonian pretty much summarises my feelings:

Click here to view the embedded video.

I agree with Rob. Pachelbel’s cello line bites. That in itself should consign the Canon into the Bad Religion bin of your local record store. But Pachelbel’s Canon is a “classic” in the realm of classical music. And in both cases “classic” means enduring.

I’ll say. We certainly have to endure the Canon. To my ears, Pachelbel’s Canon is, at best, merely pleasant. At worst, pure muzak. Probably the beginning of muzak, I’ll venture.

OK, OK, to each his or her own tastes, right? You love the Canon, I can’t stand it, and que sera sera.

But I’m not talking about tastes. I’m taking issue with what, for lack of a better term, I’ll call “The Pachelbel effect”. I’ll suggest that the Canon’s mass appeal in the broadcasting era of culture has to do with:

1. its simple, effective – and highly redundant – chordal structure
2. that sense of “spiritual elevation” lite it tries to hook you with

Let’s get a little more technical, if you’ll indulge me. How exactly does the Canon work?

First, we have a simple, looping melody, which starts in the bass (or rather, cello) part. This looping melody is the chief bone of contention with Pachelbel-haters. As Rob put it, the issue wasn’t that Pachelbel was particularly uninspired the day he put down the Canon’s melody to paper. Rather, the cello line is so mechanical, that Pachelbel could only have been contemplating revenge when he wrote it.

Joking aside, there seems to be one clear reason for opting for a simple, unvarying melody at the root of the composition. Pachelbel wanted to compose a simple Canon. Simplicity was his core design principle. A simple, repetitive bass line was therefore needed to harmonically anchor the piece, to support the parallel-running, mirror melodies.

In fact, the Canon’s simple bass line, or basso continuo, seems a prime example of what music theorists call “static harmony”. To give a quick definition: static harmony is simply a series of chord which prolong, extend or oscillate the root chord of the piece – in this case: D Major. Cyberspace guru and author William Gibson in his book Idoru, identifies the Canon’s static harmony as DESH, or “diatonic elaboration of static harmony“.

Specifically, the Canon chord “progression” is identified as: I V vi iii IV I IV V. The chord names are: D, A, Bm, F#m, G, D, G, A.

Dynamic harmony, by contrast, describes an arrangement of chords used in a song to give a sense of “forward movement”. This is where we get the term chord progression. This design possibility is unique to tonal music, while “static harmony” is universal to all musical traditions and cultures. In fact, dynamic harmony is even more specific to “art” music – vocal and/or instrumental – or music which “tells stories” without the aid of the other arts.

Whatever the technical issues surrounding static or dynamic harmony, for our purposes it’s important to grasp the psychological effect of each to better understand Pachelbel’s intent. Static and dynamic harmonic effects in music are akin to increase or decrease of dramatic tension in movies. In film, this is done many ways: through scene writing, cinematography, editing, and of course, the musical score of the film. The ultimate aim being, to oscillate the mood of the audience between tension and relaxation, and keep them hooked on the development of the story.

You guessed it: Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major is supposed to relax you.

So there you have it: Pachelbel composed his Canon to create a specific mood, not to “take the audience somewhere”. It isn’t music that tells a story or develops a theme. It’s about a mood.

Now, let’s look at the melodic idea of the Canon. Recall again that Pachelbel chose to write a Canon. So from his simple melody – which served the function of harmonic cohesion – he built multiple, parallel voices. The choice is important here: instead of simultaneous contrapuntal development of melodic lines in dynamic harmonic relation – à la Bach – Pachelbel sought the echoing effect of parallel melodic lines, varying the basic theme over a static base.

This, I believe, is why he eschewed the melodic development approaches typical to contrapuntal music, such as inversion, augmentation, or diminution. It’s not that he wasn’t capable of these things. They just were not relevant to the effect he sought. So Canon is where he went: ornate, ethereal echoes of a simple melodic theme.

In a way, because of these structural features, the Canon resembles a lot of electronic music, both in form and function. Formally, you have your basic loop (your basso continuo/chord progression) upon which you build further elements (melodic variation of the basso continuo). With most electronic ambient music, you have a basic metrical pulse and theme, and you build on the theme with musical motifs and effects.

Anything wrong with using loops? Not really, unless you want your music to tell a story…

So the Canon, like electronic music, tends to create a special mood or atmosphere for the listener, instead of telling a story or developing a theme, as a song or symphony typically do.

To summarize, here’s the Pachelbel recipe. Compose a simple descending basso continuo melody, within a series of oscillating chords (the song motif keeps on looping). Then provide sufficient melodic variation to the basic motif to create an “elevating” effect, and presto: you’ve got your very own Pachelbel Canon.

Doesn’t have to be in D Major. Or any key at all, these days.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The moral of the story: if a non-instrumentalist such as Lasse can edit out his performance mistakes to make a song, so can you! Of course if you just want to mix beats and notes, you can always go the way of the DJ, and dispense with musical instruments altogether.

Or if you’re a bips and beats kineticist, get rid of your turntables and mix your own funny noises, like Lasse.

And, why not, throw in my own practical and philosophical two cents into the wisdom-of-the-crowd pot. Since I myself have been active in finding amateur musicians to learn and practice with for some time now. Even played at quasi-official ceremonies, full of pomp and cheer.

My habit will be to research and write in conjunction with music practice, to share ideas and problems that emerge from the dedicated process of learning a musical instrument and trying to master a repertoire, whether alone or with others.

So, if you’re an everyday – or everyweek – perspiring instrumentalist you’ve found a home. Click deep into the links to find what you’re looking for.