This paper aims to examine how specific aspects of Bakhtin's theoretical perspective might inform our understanding of improvisation. Moreover, it outlines the possible educational implications of such a perspective. Specifically, a sketch of a Bakhtinian conception of improvisation is proposed, a sketch which emphasizes the cultivation of an attitude of consciousness that leads to an understanding of improvised music making as an obligation to explore the unknown, to search for freedom through the responsibility to attend to the uniqueness of irrevocable (...) musical acts. Moreover, emphasis is given to the potential of improvisation to create a music-making context that counters monologic musical discourses, providing a site of resistance to fixity and closure. It is argued that improvisation is dialogic exactly because it creates a very special sense of interaction, which is characterized by unfinalizability and openness. At the same time, improvisation is in need of temporary finalizations which occur through the presence of the audience and the musicians' struggle to raise their minds 'above' their playing, looking at their music from outside and getting 'back in' again. It is hoped that such a perspective might provide the necessary theoretical tools for re-thinking the role of improvisation in music education. A Bakhtinian view on the experience of improvisation would, it is suggested, be educationally valuable exactly because it regards improvisation not as a problem-solving method but a problem-positing approach: as a musical practice that involves children and young people in the experiential pursuit of freedom and the understanding of the "ought" of imagining ways forward, countering monologue by allowing the flourishing of a polyphony of unmerged voices, constituting a distinctive chronotope which provides the possibility of an enactment of everyday living in musical terms. The decision to improvise marks the initiation of a search for a public musical space which is marked by the absence of fear, where exploration of musical freedom is pursued, where everything might happen but not anything goes. (shrink)

Choral music teachers simultaneously work toward two potentially competing goals: the quality of the musical performance and the quality of the education they provide for students. Is either goal preeminent, or can both exist in an ever-shifting balance? This paper highlights how this conundrum has existed since the emergence of North American choral music education nearly a century ago. The problem is explored as a paradox, with examples drawn from the author's personal experience. A proposed resolution supports the validity of (...) both goals, with the suggestion that teachers need to increase awareness of how their goals affect decisions concerning policy, pedagogy, and musical practice. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Response to David Carr, “The Significance of Music for the Promotion of Moral and Spiritual Value”Iris M. YobDavid Carr has addressed a question that has been lurking in philosophical literature for centuries and, I might add, in our collective intuition as well: Just what is the connection between music and the moral and spiritual life? And as we have come to expect from his work, he brings a (...) new perspective to this perennial question in his answer. First he traces a line of thinking since Plato about music and the ordering of the soul, he touches on the role of music and the other arts in exploring the complexities of the moral imperative as it is lived out in human lives, and returns at the end to give a new take on the old Platonic idea of ordering of the soul. Just maybe, he suggests, the detachment, however temporary, "from the trials and tribulations that beset us in the day to day rough and tumble of human practical affairs" "in the interests of some more balanced perspective" on spiritual and moral matters "might be easier to achieve in the contemplation and appreciation of great works of 'music alone.'"This conclusion does not lay claim to more than what is perfectly reasonable. Allowing oneself to be immersed in a great work of music or art or architecture or dance may very well provide that distance from every day life where one might [End Page 209] re-center and refocus, refresh and renew one's outlook on the world. Such an engagement with an artwork can interrupt the patterns of thinking and acting that might have become increasingly thoughtless and ego-centric. It can be a re-creation in the true sense of the word. Paul Tillich, one of the great twentieth century religious philosophers, tells of an experience he had during the First World War where he served as a chaplain in the German army. On a brief leave from the front he visited Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin and stood entranced before Botticelli's "Madonna and Child with Singing Angels." The moment was spiritually transformative, he tells us, lifting his spirits beyond the mud and grime of the battlefield to contemplate life and meaning on a different plane altogether. The experience enabled him to return to duty with renewed inner strength and calm.1 I believe this is a rather powerful and compelling example of what Carr is talking about.In coming to his conclusion, Carr is relying on the particularly difficult case of "music alone," that is, music that does not have words, title, or any other kind of representative function. In other words his argument does not depend on any didactic nature or morally or spiritually directive intent of the music. Rather, it is centered on music that ostensibly is not about anything. This is musical sound composed and performed for the appreciation of what it is in itself. And yet, in providing distance from the every day world, according to Carr, it can give expression to "realms of spiritual experience that lie beyond the sensual and empirical." Here we enter the world of the metaphorical and symbolic, what Rudolf Otto would call the "irrational" or "superrational," or the realm of the Holy. While Carr does not state this explicitly I would go so far as to say that this realm of the wordless and sacred is where the spiritual and the moral are grounded and from where they draw their power.Against this background, I would like to ask how does "music alone," in the sense intended by Carr and Peter Kivy from whom he borrowed the term bring about this effect? We are unable now to ask Tillich what it was that gave the Botticelli its impact for him, but it is curious that what it did for him it most likely did not do for all the other soldiers from the front who happened upon it the way he did. Tillich would most likely explain its effect by resorting to his theory of symbols, because after all this painting does have a literal meaning that might very well have inspired him. But... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response to Krista Riggs, “Foundations for Flow: A Philosophical Model For Studio Instruction”Patrick K. FreerKrista Riggs has written a provocative paper examining the relationship between psychology and pedagogy within the applied music studio. The sources Riggs employs as the basis for her arguments reflect some of the most enduring voices in educational psychology and philosophy (including music), and performance practice/preparation in music. Riggs draws important connections between these occasionally (...) disparate fields. I appreciate this opportunity to add to the discussion.As the foundation of this model, Riggs employs the study of optimal experience, known as 'flow theory,' as researched by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi1 over the past three decades. The flow experience is only possible when an individual's personal capacities are congruent with the opportunities and goals afforded by the environment.2 When coupled with the necessary congruency between challenges and skills inherent in the flow model, Riggs' analysis raises questions concerning the definition of success within applied studio instruction, the position of studio instruction within the totality of a student's experience, and the ways in which teachers and students negotiate learning within applied music instruction.Three QuestionsIs the definition of success different for students than it is for teachers?At first blush, this paper concerns the "how" of music education—how we teach and how we encourage student motivation. Oftentimes, "how" we teach is dependent upon "why" we teach and "what" we teach. This becomes clear in the paper's introduction when success is defined as an outcome of education. Is the purpose of music education to build toward success using a very narrow, career-specific definition or is the purpose of music education to build toward broader success in many facets of musical knowledge and skill?Of course, this paper is contextualized to teaching within the applied studio and it may be that success in studio teaching is somewhat narrowly defined. But, at core is a potential conflict in the definition of success as defined by the teacher and the definition of success as appropriate for the student. In the model presented here, the definition of success is clearly student-centered and the success of the instructor is measured by the degree to which the student is supported on that pathway toward success. This is not to say that the instructional content of [End Page 225] the studio experience becomes less rigorous in any way, but rather that the instruction itself is modified to better ensure the success of students in learning and applying that content. Riggs implies, and Csikszentmihalyi would agree, that teachers cannot create flow experiences in students, but can create the conditions within which flow experiences can occur. The question is: What are those conditions and are they in conflict with the definition of success used by many studio teachers?The conditions necessary for flow experience have been identified through research and are embedded throughout Riggs' paper. The conditions are stated here in a purely student-centered manner. But, there are two players in this scene and it is the relationship between the student and teacher that most determines the experience of each. I am an unabashed proponent of attempts to optimize the quality of experience for students. However, the needs of the instructor seem to be missing from this discussion. It might be argued that this model is purely about studio instruction itself and an exploration of the instructor's needs is better suited for a different paper. Even so, the instructor's experiences, both in the past and in the present, do have bearing upon the student experience of the present. For example, it is probably a fair assumption that each instructor has, at some point, been a student in a studio. Might there be substantial value in a process of reflective analysis of that experience? Riggs does invoke the roles of reflection-in-action and reflection-on-action from the student viewpoint, but it might be illuminating to discern the instructor's reflections as well—and for these to be selectively shared with the student. In this way, studio teachers would be closer to fulfilling another necessary exemplar role: that of "master" teacher (or "mentor" teacher). If... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response to Graham McPhail, “Too Much Noise in the Classroom? Towards a Praxis of Conceptualization,” Philosophy of Music Education, 26, No. 2 (2018): 176–98.Patrick K. Freer“Are you all right, Sir?” asked the head trainer. I was on the treadmill at the gym, reading Graham McPhail’s “Too Much Noise in the Classroom?”1 as I worked up a sweat. Apparently I got so engaged by McPhail’s writing that my heart rate (...) spiked sufficiently to trigger a warning monitor at the front desk. I suspect not many others at the gym would agree that McPhail’s article qualifies as a pulse-racing, spine-tingling thriller. Still, I found the article to be revelatory in its content, scope, and style. In this brief essay, I will provide a few contextual and reflective comments regarding elements of his argument, state why I feel McPhail’s article is important, and describe two examples of how I plan to use his article as a framework for the consideration of philosophical concepts in music education.NOISE“Noise” is a curious word. The term has etymological origins in the Latin “nausea” with its connotations of discomfort and it gradually became associated [End Page 87] with “discord” or “quarrel” during the medieval period.2 The “noise” referenced in McPhail’s article title is akin to statistical noise in a research study: random data points that are discordant with the underlying facet being revealed or examined. McPhail likens this concept of noise to some current conversations about music education’s curricular and pedagogical foundations, specifically those centered on the aesthetic versus paraxial debates and with “political, emancipatory, and social justice aspirations.”3 McPhail writes that resultant pedagogies can unwittingly inhibit intended musical outcomes when “teachers decide not to ground knowledge in use in the systems of meaning from which they are derived.”4 These systems of meaning, McPhail offers, are concentrated in music’s “universal or context-independent concepts”5 from which arise the questions “what are these systems of meaning?” and “how can we make them meaningful for students?”6 These questions imply distinctions between epistemology and pedagogy and they necessitate consideration of a child’s cognitive growth in order for the answers to guide a teacher toward the development of meaningful educative processes in classrooms.7CURRICULUM AND PEDAGOGYA central point of McPhail’s argument is that proponents of postmodern approaches to music education occasionally conflate pedagogy with curriculum. This can be seen in our professional journals, for example, when authors position music as the means to any number of activist ends rather than focusing on the teaching and learning of music through emancipatory principles.8 McPhail argues, correctly in my view, that music’s praxis should inform the various pedagogies we might employ when teaching music, while the conceptualization of music provides the core content of what it is we are to teach in the first place. That curricular dilemma, how versus what, is the crucible necessary to balance our conversations about equity and relevance in—and to—music education. It is possible to realize approaches to pedagogy that embrace vernacular musics, reflect social issues, and promote consciousness of action and reaction. These approaches should certainly be thought provoking, engaging, and relevant to the lives of students. But, without a defined curricular plan for guiding students to musical understandings that cumulatively build toward increasing levels of expertise, it is unlikely that the music education endeavor will be as efficient or empowering as it might otherwise be.In a 2014 essay, McPhail wrote that schools can offer the conceptual grounding that expands possibilities for students through “knowledge that is context-independent rather than context-dependent.”9 McPhail argues that this approach to teaching invokes principles of social justice itself as it provides formal knowledge [End Page 88] that students can then apply to informal contexts beyond the classroom. McPhail offers in his earlier work that “if the boundaries between informal knowledge and the more formal knowledge offered in the school are dissolved students may be at a loss to see what school can actually offer them.”10PEDAGOGY AND CHILD DEVELOPMENTMcPhail identifies music’s underlying, related concepts as one of three... (shrink)