V
We have attempted to show that the business mentality that directs so many of our musical institutions fosters an economy of scarcity as regards talent and repertory. We have tried to show how it tends drastically to restrict opportunities for young artists and their careers and to limit repertory. The aim of a cautious policy, as we have stated, is to satisfy the immediate wishes of the greatest possible number of listeners. To maintain prices, as well as the prevalentvalues, as high as possible, the tendency is, among other things, to restrict the number of goods for “sale.”
Curiously enough, the effect of this business point of view in radio and with respect to phonograph and recordings is quite different. No doubt the business mentality is as predominant here as it is in the concert and opera business. In radio and recordings, however, it fosters an economy of abundance. One may guess why it works that way. Fewer, not more recordings would be sold if the output were restricted to performances by celebrities, even if they were more highly priced. In view of the nature of the product, the policy must be to sell as many recordings as possible. To that end, policy will always center on variety of both performances and works performed. In the service of an economy which favors expansiveness and flexibility, it is alsonecessary to maintain an even higher degree of technical perfection. The result is that there is already available a large and representative selection of recordings of music from every period, including our own. This repertory is steadily growing larger.
Similar conditions prevail in radio, though in a less striking and more sporadic manner, since American radio is largely supported by commercial sponsors. Competition plays so great a role that giving programs a conspicuously individual character is every sponsor’s aim, and since many radio programs consist of concerts of recorded music, the tenor is abundance rather than scarcity.
A discussion of music education in the United States must consider the educational impact of both recordings and radio performances during the past twenty-five years. Anyone interested in musichas a range of musical experiences previously unheard-of at his disposal; and it is the rule that a young person wishing to undertake serious study of music already has acquired an appreciable knowledge of music literature, a rather experienced sense for interpretation, and even a certain musical judgment—sometimes surprisingly good—before he embarks upon such study.
There is a negative side. The knowledge acquired is not necessarily intimate nor profound. It is knowledge different from that resulting from studying scores and reading them, in some manner, at the piano. Teachers are aware of the deceptive familiarity of American students with music of all periods and nations and of their frequent glibness which astonishes one until he discovers that all is based on a facile and superficial experience with little to back it up. This is a problem ofeducation, and a state of affairs which our teachers are trying to correct.
In this connection a leitmotif which frequently comes up in a discussion of music in America is: what can and should music mean to us? Is it an article we buy for whatever effortless enjoyment we can derive from it, or is it a valid medium of expression worth knowing intimately, through real participation, even on a modest level? In other words, are we to be content with superficial acquaintance, or do we want genuine experience, and the criteria derived only from the latter?
Such alternatives are often not clearly formulated, and that fact alone is both the result of, and a contributing factor to causing a confusion of ends often observed in our situation. The confusion derives from the fact that until a relatively short time ago music was for us predominantly anarticle de luxewhich was to be enjoyedwithout the obligation of intimate knowledge. As pointed out, at times we even doubted whether we were, by birthright, entitled to, or capable of fulfilling such an obligation, and the growing impulse toward vital musical experiences developed from this basis. Gradually the ideas of education, at least on the elementary or nonprofessional level, obtained. A result of the schism even today is the wide divergence between instruction considered adequate for the layman and that required by the professional musician—a divergence which, as far as this author knows, has no parallel in any other field of education.
We are accustomed to justify such divergence, or at least some of its results, in terms of a somewhat pragmatic philosophy; this author disagrees with that philosophy. Present criticism concerns, however, but the effect of thisconfusion on our musical development. It must be admitted that much of the musical or quasi-musical instruction given in our elementary and high schools has little or no value whatever from this point of view. This is said with due reserve; conditions vary not only because of individual and local differences, but because the organization and even the underlying concepts of education vary from state to state. However, instruction at those levels is limited too often to lessons in “sight singing,” a kind of primitive solfeggio, to a small degree of facility on instruments designed to equip players for the school orchestra, and finally to the “appreciation” course. While the results are varied, in certain localities energetic teachers or groups have accomplished impressive feats and sometimes, in the cases of gifted students, have reached an almost professional level.Too often, however, the prevailing idea behind the teaching has little to do with truly musical achievement, and the gifted youngster may well find himself quite lost in truly artistic surroundings. If he wishes to work seriously, he must have recourse to the conservatory or to private instruction; and he must pursue his studies outside of, and in addition to the school curriculum.
The above picture, of course, is generalized, even though it is doubtlessly accurate. Aside from exceptions, the system is less rigid than a brief summary could demonstrate. Again, our culture is fluid and development rapid. One recalls the establishment, nearly two decades ago, of the High School of Music and Art in New York, and similar establishments come to mind, but such practical institutions scarcely answer the problem of fares suitable forboth amateurs and professionals.
In the universities the picture is different and the development impressive, though not devoid of problems. To understand what is going on, let us consider the role which the university plays in our culture. In our universities the most independent forces of American culture seem to gather—influences free from political or commercial pressures; the universities, more than any other institutions, sustain their role as strongholds of independent and liberal thought, and, with a few regrettable exceptions, they are jealously committed to the conservation of that independence. They shelter the cultural activities which have difficulty acclimatizing themselves to the excesses of commercialism, and they provide means for the independent existence of worthy activities within their own walls.
The policy is general, even though it is not everywhere equally pronounced, and but few of the larger universities are in a position to carry it out on a broad scale. This endeavor is organized in various ways. Some universities such as Yale, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Illinois possess Schools of Music which are genuine professional schools similar to our medical and law schools. Others such as California, Columbia, Harvard, and Princeton have music departments which, though integrated in the Colleges of Liberal Arts, include in their curricula not only composition courses frankly professional in standard and aim, but also generally high-quality courses in the performance of choral, orchestral, and chamber music and, frequently, in opera. Some universities support “Quartets in Residence,” generally established ensembles which are under contract tocontribute their services during a certain portion of each year for campus concerts and instruction as well. The Pro Arte Quartet at Wisconsin, the Griller Quartet at the University of California at Berkeley, and the Walden Quartet at the University of Illinois are examples.
In some respects, this program constitutes a radical departure from the traditional role of the university as established in Europe. It is the result of a long and frequently complex evolution. Some academicians, even in departments of music, deplore this departure, while others feel that it should be limited. No doubt the idea has brought about new problems including that concerning the relationship of scholarship and creative production, a problem existing already on the elementary technical level, and one that cannot as yet be solved. All of these problems involve various aspectsof academic life and undeniably are difficult in the extreme. The greatest pitfall, as far as the production of music is concerned, is the danger of confused mentalities. What are the ultimate obligations of the practical musician as compared to those of the scholar? There is a tendency in some quarters to train the former in terms appropriate to the latter, inculcating in him criteria which are taken from music history and aesthetic theory rather than from music as a direct experience. Often an exaggerated reverence for music theory as a source for valid artistic criteria can be observed. However, contact of scholars with practical musicians often is fruitful: one can give the other something valid by way of sharpened insight into his own task.
The divergence between what is proper for the layman and essential forthe professional is a problem for both scholar and musician. Many a university music curriculum still bears traces of such divergence, and the history of university music in the United States could easily be covered from this point of view. What is involved here as elsewhere is the shift from a frankly amateurish—in the best sense—approach, however enlightened in premise, to one based on a serious and eventually professional outlook. The transformation has been anything but facile. The situation is still in process.
In the older curriculum, courses were offered in harmony and counterpoint, to be sure, and sometimes also in fugue, instrumentation, and composition proper. It was scarcely envisaged, however, that the student would aim at serious accomplishment in such courses, and those who taught them for the most part had learnedto accept the conditions prevailing in our music life, conditions which gave scant encouragement to those nourishing illusory ambitions. The instruction given aimed, therefore, at theoretical knowledge of traditional concepts; as has been pointed out, there was little inclination to examine either the premises or to delve into the ultimate effects of traditional theory. The demands of the general curriculum in fact would make it difficult genuinely to attack the problems of adequate technical training. The student was obliged to be satisfied to learn “rules” or “principles” without adequate opportunity, through continual practice, to master them; and since our music life at the time was what it was, he had no opportunity to become aware of what genuine mastery involved. The result is quite obvious: either he gave up the idea of serious achievement, or he resignedhimself, often painfully no doubt, to the necessity of lowering his sights.
In the field of scholarship similar conditions prevailed: generally the curriculum was limited to superficial courses in music history or literature or, at best, to scarcely less superficial studies of selected composers. Most characteristic was the course in “appreciation.” The term itself is used today mainly in a deprecatory manner since—even if the term is retained—both the idea and the content of such courses have long become outmoded and relegated to secondary schools or a few provincial colleges. The appreciation course usually consisted of propaganda for “serious” music, and it can be stated frankly that its true aim was often to attract as many students as possible to the music department in order to win the graces of the university administration, which in the old daysfrequently retained a degree of skepticism regarding the legitimate place of music in the university. In spite of their superficiality and irrelevancies, however, such courses unquestionably helped to prepare the public for the later developments on our music scene. As has been observed before in connection with Community Concerts, genuine, decisive results sometimes spring from unpromising sources.
Such efforts are not needed today, for it is no longer necessary to entice a public to accept, through radio and recordings, what is available every day. Courses for amateurs still exist but more and more become good introductory courses to music to which instructors dedicate serious thought and effort, and in which they try to lay a basis from which the student, if he wishes, may develop a real knowledge of music and train himself tolisten to it with greater awareness. The aims, too, of such courses have become more dignified; and while music can be approached from many angles and while many kinds of introductory courses are possible, the effort at least is made to solve a problem thoughtfully.
The courses in music history and literature today are on a level quite different from former days and are frankly conceived as a valid means of preparation for scholarly accomplishment. Attention is given to musicology in nearly every major university; names of distinguished scholars may be found on the faculties and opportunities for all kinds of research are offered. Little by little, the universities are building up valuable collections of microfilms in order to bring to the United States whatever European libraries and collections have to offer. As in other fields ofscholarly research, an effort is made to establish highest standards and rigorous demands.
As regards musical composition, perhaps the most striking fact is that the important recent developments have taken place in the universities, at least as much as in the conservatories. There are reasons for this emphasis. The universities, due to their independence, seem more ready to experiment and are therefore less bound by tradition. They are more willing to adapt themselves to changing conditions. Since they are in no way bound to the exigencies of the large-scale music business, they are, as a rule, aware of the character of contemporary culture and especially of its creative aspects. It is significant that the universities were able to offer asylum to eminent composers among the European refugees, and, as well, positions toAmerican composers. Of Europeans, Schönberg taught at the University of Southern California and later at the University of California at Los Angeles, Hindemith at Yale, Krenek at Vassar and at Hamline College, Milhaud at Mills, and Martinu at Princeton. As regards native American composers, one finds more or less distinguished names on university faculties all over the country, and of the young native composers a characteristically great number are university graduates.
That fact alone has had a strong influence on university curricula, and also has given rise to new problems. It has added an importance, and in fact a different character, to preparatory studies. It has thrown into conspicuous relief the necessity of reconciling the requirements of the all-important and indispensable basic technical training ofthe composer with those of general education. No one would claim that the problem has been solved in a satisfactory manner; and the composer who teaches composition in a university or elsewhere often faces problems which arise from the great disparity not only between the requirements of the craft and that which institutions can offer in this respect, but also between the degrees of preparation offered in various institutions. Perhaps the greatest of these problems is the cleavage between the age and general musical sophistication of students (who in the United States begin their music studies relatively late) and the elementary studies with which they must begin if they are to build a technique on a firm basis. In the last analysis, standards are often far too low; yet we must underline that there are also serious curricular problems which await solution. Someresults shown in universities furnish convincing proof that these problems, on the whole, are soluble.
It may be asked why in this discussion of music education the music schools, the conservatories, have been left to the very end. There has been no thought of disparaging or underestimating what our conservatories have contributed to musical development. What they have accomplished, in the main, is precisely what one would expect. With exceptions such as a new (still problematical) approach to the teaching of theory at Juilliard, they have developed along normal lines. Instrumental and vocal instruction is often first class, they feed excellent players to our orchestras, and produce—as has been noted—an overabundance of young singers and instrumental performers. At Juilliard, the opera department deserves highestpraise. For many years its productions have served as a model for those now almost the rule rather than the exception in music schools and music departments throughout the country; and in recent years it has given New York several of its relatively few experiences of contemporary opera. Equally impressive have been the achievements of the Juilliard School orchestra, which on repeated occasions has proved adequate to the demands of most difficult contemporary music.
We cannot terminate this discussion without some lively praise for the American student of today. It seems that in these postwar years a new generation of students has entered upon the scene—a generation which, in the purposefulness and the courage with which its representatives undertake most exacting tasks, and in the devotion and the maturitywith which they seek out the real challenges music can present, is sufficient proof that we have moved forward. They, above all, give us the liveliest, most unqualified sense of musical vitality, and the certainty that it will continue to develop.