While driving to work one day recently, I decided on a whim to listen to some recordings of my college choir concerts (c. 1989). One of the programs included a couple of pieces from Leonard Bernstein’s Candide, arranged by our director, Dr. Robert Page. As the second of these pieces, “Make Our Garden Grow,” began, I felt tears welling up and I had to stop and marvel at that for a moment. The performance was far from perfect. The piece was being sung by both of the university’s choirs combined, which means that the skill level of the singers (both in technique and musicality) varied greatly. Also, the arrangement was awkward for a group of student singers as it sat too often in the extremes of our ranges, creating intonation problems and rendering some sections unpleasantly shrill. Even the pianist seemed to have difficulty with the physical demands of the piece, fumbling a couple of octave-wide reaches in crucial spots. Yet somehow, despite all this, the music possessed a level of beauty able to move me to tears. This was, of course, mainly thanks to Bernstein, not to us. He created an exquisitely moving musical message. We just delivered it.
What this got me thinking about, however, was the incredible privilege it is to be able to deliver a message like that, however clumsily. I say “privilege” for a couple of reasons. First of all, it truly is a privilege to be able to sing or play rich, beautiful music–to be able to participate in bringing to life the works of those gifted with the ability to create near-perfect beauty using the language of music. Secondly, all of us who have had the opportunity and resources available to us to learn to speak that language are incredibly privileged indeed, and that’s something I think we too often forget. I know that I have taken my own skill with that language very much for granted over the years. I often joke that I learned how to read music before I learned to read and though I think that’s actually a bit of an exaggeration, it is not an exaggeration to say that I probably learned the basic language of music before (or at least at the same time as) I learned the language of speech. Music was a constant in our home when I was growing up and I’ve been told many stories about how I would sing along with my mother’s voice students from under the piano as a small child.
In some conversation with my dad yesterday, I realized that though I’d always thought of having a musical “ear” as something that is inborn, in actuality it is probably just a skill learned so early on that I simply don’t remember learning it. I don’t remember it ever being something I had to work at or something that was ever hard, but this is likely due more to early exposure to music than anything else. I thought then how incredibly lucky I was to have had this early exposure and how much of an advantage it gave me over those who did not. Not only did I have early exposure to the sounds of music but also I had parents who encouraged me to study and work with the language as much as I possibly could and who were fluent in it themselves. It seems to me somewhat similar to growing up in a bilingual environment, where the knowledge of two languages is natural and even unavoidable, while those who did not grow up in that environment might struggle painfully to try to learn a second language. Considering my own struggles with foreign languages, I can only respect and admire those who are able to learn the language of music without the advantage of early exposure.
As a new teacher, I feel compelled then to say two things. First, for the love of whatever is holy to you, if you think you want to play or sing music and are offered the opportunity to improve your skill, take it. These opportunities are rare and wonderful privileges and they should be recognized as such. Secondly, two words: TOTAL IMMERSION. Just as many believe that the most effective way to learn a foreign language is to be placed in a situation where no other language is spoken, I believe this applies to music in its own way as well. Listen to music all the time. Sing all the time. Study theory. Talk about it with friends. Train your mind, ear, and instrument with as much passion and focus as you can and you can be a musician. Put in your 10,000 hours and it will pay off. Your teachers will help and encourage you with everything they have, but the only person who can make you a musician is you. Only you can make your garden grow.