It's 5:30am and I am tossing and turning in my bed because, in my dreams last night, I relived an experience I had fairly recently. I won't reveal any names or where I had this experience, so don't ask me.
Someone tried to "mansplain" (and I mean that word in the worst possible sense) to me what the Scientific Method is. This person is a scientist - and a celebrated one at that. We were having a discussion about ways that people learn things. I explained that a Music Theory class, in its very essence, is first and foremost a science. This person vehemently disagreed with me - steering me to how music and the arts function more on the right side of the brain rather than the left and citing the definition of the Scientific Method as though I "clearly didn't understand what it was." They said something along these lines:
"Look, Vince, what you do and what we do are not the same at all. We spend our time trying to prove and disprove hypotheses by doing experiments and testing them. That is the Scientific Method. That is not what you do."
I replied: "What is it you think we do, then?"
"Well, I don't know beyond what I hear and I certainly think you put beauty into the world, but you don't use the Scientific Method to do that."
I recalled how, when my beloved teacher and Friend, Conrad Susa attended school at (then) Carnegie Tech and, later, at Juilliard, the degrees which were awarded to them were "Bachelor of Science" and "Master of Science." Nowadays, they are, of course, BMus and MMus - another mistake in the long list of regression which has continuously grown in music schools - even conservatories - over the last 50+ years.
I replied to this person:
"For an example: when one studies species counterpoint either modally or tonally, one is given a line called a "Cantus Firmus" and asked to compose a second and/or third voice against this given line. There are a plethora of rules - some of them rather stringent guidelines - to which one must adhere in order for the resultant line to be organic and serviceable and for the juxtaposition of consonance and dissonance to be balanced in a traditional sense. There are entire treatises written about this. There are countless papers and books written about both this and practices that spun off of this - such as the Schenkerian theory. The vast landscape of not only musical composition but also musical interpretation and pedagogy is largely perched on this basic premise. The value of whether or not something works in the environment in which you set it is NOT entirely a function of emotion and feelings and impulse. If musicians throughout history acted only (or primarily) on feelings and impulse, we would certainly not have the lion's share of the masterworks to which we constantly look today for examples. One should note that these are the very same works which have inspired so many composers who followed to push themselves harder, to continue searching for new thought, and to offer their listeners something compelling to think about."
The person was looking at me with an obvious mixture of perplexity and irritation because I pointed out to them that it was arrogant to assume that:
This is an urgent societal problem.
As musicians, we have done such a phenomenal job at affecting and manipulating the human brain that our entire species has evolved in its thinking and processing of audio material to the point of hypnosis. In other words, people are, indeed, so affected by the music they've experienced that they have become blind and deaf to how it got into their ears in the first place. They treat us (musicians) almost exclusively as entertainers and as emotionally charged, volatile people - as though we, ourselves, are the absentminded consumers.
I have even encountered young, emerging composers who would rather think of themselves as "Architects of Sound" (this is actually something a graduate student once said to me) than adopt any kind of established technique for assembling their ideas in a cohesive manner on the page. This is, of course, regardless of the kind of musical language in which they reside. In other words, it doesn't matter if you are a tonalist, atonalist, polytonalist, pandiatonicist, or whatever. We need all of those languages in music. It does matter, however, that you write your musical words down with technique, syntax, cohesiveness, and some kind of structure, be it loose or meticulously scaffolded. This is a huge part of what musicians formally study when in school - or, at least, it WAS.
As I was typing that just now, I was kicking myself a little bit because it is, in fact, this level of technique and structure that leads to such fluid consumption of music so as to create consumers like said scientist above.
Here are my assertions:
To my fellow musicians:
We must do all we can to stop perpetuating this absentminded notion in society. How?
And most of all...