Sunday 28 April 2024

The importance of music

in our lives is not to be underestimated. Why then would anyone do something which might jeopardise the training of future musicians?

This state has a "conservatorium" of music - the Elder Conservatorium. It is the oldest tertiary institution of music in the country. It has a world wide reputation for excellence.  It is NOT suited to being amalgamated with the "Centre for the Performing Arts" proposed by the amalgamation of two universities in this state. 

It is not suitable because when "performing arts" happen it will be theatre that wins. Music, real music, will be lost. Oh there will be music of course but I know it will not be the same.

It takes years to train as a musician...and you can never stop learning. When I was a mere kitten I remember reading the life story of Eileen Joyce - "Prelude" by CH Abrahall if I remember correctly. I may be wrong. What I do know I am right about is that it talked about the thousands of hours Joyce spent at the piano...alone. She worked at her craft...alone. She worked at it in order that the craft would also become an art. From the time I read that book I became aware that music at the professional level requires dedication as well as skill. 

I cannot play a musical instrument. I do not have the necessary manual dexterity to do that. I cannot even sing in tune. (One of the Professors in the Music School at another university hearing me singing something to another student as an example once told me, quite kindly, "there is no E-flat in the last bar." What he really meant was "Be quiet Cat, you cannot sing.") It doesn't mean I know nothing about music. I can read music up to a point - I would struggle with an orchestral score. I can "hear" music when someone explains something to me. Even that much has been "work" of a sort so how much more does a musician need to do.

It is no secret I do not care for the current "popular" music. I do not much care for a lot of the music which was around when I was growing up. It has much to do with the fact it was never played in our house - even by two of my three siblings. I heard them working away at piano practice and more. Middle Cat can play the flute and classical guitar. Brother Cat plays piano, trumpet and saxophone. Our mother, who was definitely "musical", would supervise from a distance until they surpassed her actual knowledge. There would not have been much time to listen to "pop" music and it was better fun to be making up new words for Gilbert & Sullivan operettas. 

Despite such things I do know something about the popular music of my generation. I can recognise most Beatles tunes and the names of many of the musicians of the day are familiar. I'd still do badly on a quiz I suspect but the knowledge is there. It is part of my cultural literacy. What would have happened if there had been just a centre of some sort for the performing arts not just here but elsewhere? Would they simply have turned inward and not given young musicians on their way up something more to aspire to? If you go past "the Con" as it is affectionately known you can hear people at work. I hear scales being played and sung, a single note being played over and over again and I know musicians are striving towards something they see as perfection.

I also know, for all the loneliness of the hours put in at work on their own instruments, there is also the joy and the thrill of getting together and bringing all that work together. One of my slightly more ridiculous unfulfilled desires has been to conduct an orchestra. I would be absolutely hopeless but the idea of being able to bring a group of musicians together in that way is something that must surely be both frustrating and satisfying? 

Even if we cannot play or sing we need music in our lives. It is particularly important for mathematicians and scientists of all sorts. They need the discipline and creativity which music provides in order to achieve those things in their own working lives.

We cannot allow "the Con" to be subsumed into something else. We need it.  

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