We are accustomed to justify such divergence, or at least some of its results, in terms of a somewhat pragmatic philosophy; this author disagrees with that philosophy. Present criticism concerns, however, but the effect of this confusion on our musical development. It must be admitted that much of the musical or quasi-musical instruction given in our elementary and high schools has little or no value whatever from this point of view. This is said with due reserve; conditions vary not only because of individual and local differences, but because the organization and even the underlying concepts of education vary from state to state. However, instruction at those levels is limited too often to lessons in “sight singing,” a kind of primitive solfeggio, to a small degree of facility on instruments designed to equip players for the school orchestra, and finally to the “appreciation” course. While the results are varied, in certain localities energetic teachers or groups have accomplished impressive feats and sometimes, in the cases of gifted students, have reached an almost professional level. Too often, however, the prevailing idea behind the teaching has little to do with truly musical achievement, and the gifted youngster may well find himself quite lost in truly artistic surroundings. If he wishes to work seriously, he must have recourse to the conservatory or to private instruction; and he must pursue his studies outside of, and in addition to the school curriculum.
The above picture, of course, is generalized, even though it is doubtlessly accurate. Aside from exceptions, the system is less rigid than a brief summary could demonstrate. Again, our culture is fluid and development rapid. One recalls the establishment, nearly two decades ago, of the High School of Music and Art in New York, and similar establishments come to mind, but such practical institutions scarcely answer the problem of fares suitable for both amateurs and professionals.
In the universities the picture is different and the development impressive, though not devoid of problems. To understand what is going on, let us consider the role which the university plays in our culture. In our universities the most independent forces of American culture seem to gather—influences free from political or commercial pressures; the universities, more than any other institutions, sustain their role as strongholds of independent and liberal thought, and, with a few regrettable exceptions, they are jealously committed to the conservation of that independence. They shelter the cultural activities which have difficulty acclimatizing themselves to the excesses of commercialism, and they provide means for the independent existence of worthy activities within their own walls.
The policy is general, even though it is not everywhere equally pronounced, and but few of the larger universities are in a position to carry it out on a broad scale. This endeavor is organized in various ways. Some universities such as Yale, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Illinois possess Schools of Music which are genuine professional schools similar to our medical and law schools. Others such as California, Columbia, Harvard, and Princeton have music departments which, though integrated in the Colleges of Liberal Arts, include in their curricula not only composition courses frankly professional in standard and aim, but also generally high-quality courses in the performance of choral, orchestral, and chamber music and, frequently, in opera. Some universities support “Quartets in Residence,” generally established ensembles which are under contract to contribute their services during a certain portion of each year for campus concerts and instruction as well. The Pro Arte Quartet at Wisconsin, the Griller Quartet at the University of California at Berkeley, and the Walden Quartet at the University of Illinois are examples.
In some respects, this program constitutes a radical departure from the traditional role of the university as established in Europe. It is the result of a long and frequently complex evolution. Some academicians, even in departments of music, deplore this departure, while others feel that it should be limited. No doubt the idea has brought about new problems including that concerning the relationship of scholarship and creative production, a problem existing already on the elementary technical level, and one that cannot as yet be solved. All of these problems involve various aspects of academic life and undeniably are difficult in the extreme. The greatest pitfall, as far as the production of music is concerned, is the danger of confused mentalities. What are the ultimate obligations of the practical musician as compared to those of the scholar? There is a tendency in some quarters to train the former in terms appropriate to the latter, inculcating in him criteria which are taken from music history and aesthetic theory rather than from music as a direct experience. Often an exaggerated reverence for music theory as a source for valid artistic criteria can be observed. However, contact of scholars with practical musicians often is fruitful: one can give the other something valid by way of sharpened insight into his own task.
The divergence between what is proper for the layman and essential for the professional is a problem for both scholar and musician. Many a university music curriculum still bears traces of such divergence, and the history of university music in the United States could easily be covered from this point of view. What is involved here as elsewhere is the shift from a frankly amateurish—in the best sense—approach, however enlightened in premise, to one based on a serious and eventually professional outlook. The transformation has been anything but facile. The situation is still in process.
In the older curriculum, courses were offered in harmony and counterpoint, to be sure, and sometimes also in fugue, instrumentation, and composition proper. It was scarcely envisaged, however, that the student would aim at serious accomplishment in such courses, and those who taught them for the most part had learned to accept the conditions prevailing in our music life, conditions which gave scant encouragement to those nourishing illusory ambitions. The instruction given aimed, therefore, at theoretical knowledge of traditional concepts; as has been pointed out, there was little inclination to examine either the premises or to delve into the ultimate effects of traditional theory. The demands of the general curriculum in fact would make it difficult genuinely to attack the problems of adequate technical training. The student was obliged to be satisfied to learn “rules” or “principles” without adequate opportunity, through continual practice, to master them; and since our music life at the time was what it was, he had no opportunity to become aware of what genuine mastery involved. The result is quite obvious: either he gave up the idea of serious achievement, or he resigned himself, often painfully no doubt, to the necessity of lowering his sights.
In the field of scholarship similar conditions prevailed: generally the curriculum was limited to superficial courses in music history or literature or, at best, to scarcely less superficial studies of selected composers. Most characteristic was the course in “appreciation.” The term itself is used today mainly in a deprecatory manner since—even if the term is retained—both the idea and the content of such courses have long become outmoded and relegated to secondary schools or a few provincial colleges. The appreciation course usually consisted of propaganda for “serious” music, and it can be stated frankly that its true aim was often to attract as many students as possible to the music department in order to win the graces of the university administration, which in the old days frequently retained a degree of skepticism regarding the legitimate place of music in the university. In spite of their superficiality and irrelevancies, however, such courses unquestionably helped to prepare the public for the later developments on our music scene. As has been observed before in connection with Community Concerts, genuine, decisive results sometimes spring from unpromising sources.
Such efforts are not needed today, for it is no longer necessary to entice a public to accept, through radio and recordings, what is available every day. Courses for amateurs still exist but more and more become good introductory courses to music to which instructors dedicate serious thought and effort, and in which they try to lay a basis from which the student, if he wishes, may develop a real knowledge of music and train himself to listen to it with greater awareness. The aims, too, of such courses have become more dignified; and while music can be approached from many angles and while many kinds of introductory courses are possible, the effort at least is made to solve a problem thoughtfully.
The courses in music history and literature today are on a level quite different from former days and are frankly conceived as a valid means of preparation for scholarly accomplishment. Attention is given to musicology in nearly every major university; names of distinguished scholars may be found on the faculties and opportunities for all kinds of research are offered. Little by little, the universities are building up valuable collections of microfilms in order to bring to the United States whatever European libraries and collections have to offer. As in other fields of scholarly research, an effort is made to establish highest standards and rigorous demands.