Music Notation Software in the Classroom: True Music-Making?

When I was growing up, computers had black screens and green text, and were only accessible to the class when we earned a field trip to the computer lab to play Oregon Trail. It never crossed my mind- or my music teachers' minds, certainly!- that computers could be used in a music classroom!

This comes to mind because of a recent class discussion about teaching composition. I'll get to the specifics of the discussion in a moment.

When someone says "music technology in the classroom," one's default mental image is probably either recording technology, or notation software that every student can use. Finale even makes a barebones version, Notepad, that I encountered at my job two years ago. Apparently the previous teacher showed the students how to use Notepad, gave them some parameters (maybe), and the students composed. But were they really making music?

The principal was thrilled. She had a whole school full of little Mozarts working on Finale Notepad. She was constantly mentioning to me that I should get the laptops in my classroom to do some composition. However, I thumbed through some of the music portfolios from the previous year, and was not really surprised to see the low level of musicianship these compositions displayed.

I shouldn't judge too hard. After all, these students were only in their first year or two of music class. But it seemed like they were all boxed into the same assignment, with no leeway to incorporate musical elements that were important to them. They all had similar usage of the E Major scale, or whatever it happened to be. It looked like there wasn't any joy in it.

So I wonder: Is there a better way to teach composition? For students who have never encountered music before, perhaps notation is not the place to start. They may feel very restricted, and may have little interest in writing the usual tonal, Western-approved-type of music. Instead, start with something that will appeal to them, and spark their interest and creativity. I'm not sure what that is yet, but I wouldn't want to intimidate them by forcing unfamiliar notation on them, especially in the form of an often-confusing computer program.

After they know how to read music well, and are able to hear what they want to write before they put something down on paper, then students should be introduced to notation software. Until then, take the class set of Finale Notepad downloads out of the budget, and instead get some more instruments repaired.

Jazz at Lincoln Center

I was the lucky recipient of a friend's extra ticket to see the fall gala performance at the Rose Theater tonight. Wynton Marsalis performed with his quintet, and George Benson with his entourage of musicians. Ken Burns was also there; he was accepting the Ed Bradley award for leadership.

The reason I'm writing about this in my tech blog is to discuss the very basic argument of real instruments vs. synthesized instruments. Mr. Benson had a rhythm section (including the man who conducts Barbra Streisand's orchestra!), a live string orchestra, a chorus of backup singers, and an overworked synthesizer player. I wondered why he hired every instrument family except for winds and brass; surely a few more players could have been written into the budget? It would have added immensely to my enjoyment.

Mr. Benson was doing a tribute to Nat "King" Cole. His voice is already quite close to Mr. Cole's voice, and the strings' presence brought out the schmaltzy quality of Mr. Cole's signature sound. But as soon as I heard flutes, and didn't see any, I raised an eyebrow; seriously? He's got a synth player for that? It was a very good synthesizer, don't get me wrong; but no professional flute player would choose to keep such a steady, uncreative vibrato for those long notes. The tone was adequate but the expression wasn't there. It detracted from the performance because it seemed like he took an unneeded shortcut.

It was even more apparent when the synth player was doing an entire choir of brass hits. That was obviously inadequate. The sound wasn't present enough, and it was a little too tinny to be believable. I was almost distracted by its wimpiness.

Of course musicians can choose to use a synth player in place of a live performer for budget or space reasons. But Mr. Benson seemed to have both financial and spatial means. I don't know if Mr. Cole skimped on musicians, but my guess is he would have had as many live performers as possible. If Mr. Benson wanted to bolster his sound and his tribute, he should have gone with the real players, even if just for those few measures.

Film Scores

I'm reading The Joy of Music by Leonard Bernstein, and he discusses his experience with On the Waterfront in the chapter "Interlude: Upper Dubbing, CA." ("Upper Dubbing" refers to the building where they put the sound effects and soundtrack into the movie, or "dub in" the sounds.) Bernstein describes the sound editors as geniuses who can listen to many different, seemingly contradictory, commands and somehow create an appropriate mix for the movie.

Bernstein was allowed to attend the editing sessions (a rare privilege for a composer), and added another element to the gathering: the advocate for keeping all of the music in tact. HIS music, in fact; he studied the film to write scene-appropriate music, and wrote complete pieces. Bernstein still included a logical beginning, middle, and end when he composed for the film, and his work is somewhat incomplete if any part, even a single bar, is removed.

Unfortunately for Bernstein, the music is often the first to go. He admits that the best film scores are those that the viewer never really notices. If you notice the music, it has covered up the most important element: the movie. So, when the technician removes the climax of a powerful crescendo to allow Marlon Brando's grunted line to come through, Bernstein can do little more than pout about it.

I found it interesting, though not surprising, that composers will fight for every bar to keep it in the film. I am not a composer, and I don't have the experience of agonizing over every note of a score. Of course Bernstein would want to save every last bar if he could; he labored over that music and put his heart and soul into it. And yes, it would be incomplete if any part were removed. If you removed any part of the exposition of a sonata, wouldn't that be incomplete as well? This all makes sense, but I had never thought about it before. I wonder if that is the case with all film scores; is there more to the soundtrack that we're not hearing, and is the composer devastated to find those parts missing when he watches the film?