This is written with an intention to show 'stratification in the school of music'--basically incorporate the ideas and cultures we have discussed in this class and how it relates to my music school. Such a short essay; I had so much more to say but not enough time.
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Introduction:
The ASU school of music is located in
the hot sonoran desert of Arizona. My
interest with this school reaches back to my sophomore year of high school when
I first heard of the school by the means of oral history. I remember vividly the stories told by the
elders and mentors in my life. I was
surrounded by a great number of Herberger School of music graduates and trusted
their judgment. They would relate the stories of their years learning theory,
and stressing out putting compositions together, conducting, or rehearsing for
hours on end. They had nothing but good stories to say, and with a moral of
hard work and determination. It seemed so appealing to me, to be a part of
something bigger. My thesis is that I embarked on a quest to discover a world
that I’ve only heard about.
Societal Value
The
value of music at ASU is that music is for entertainment purposes. The problem with looking at it this way is
that you exclude a lot of crucial elements of music making and music realization. I have seen signs of the commonly held idea,
“I care what people think” that so infiltrated the high school years adolescence. Occasionally, you can see it on the faces of
the musicians during rehearsals, collaborations, and performances. To advertise an upcoming recital, students
will go above and beyond the usual methods to promote themselves. They come up with clever taglines and
impressive and gaudy headshots to make the recital more exciting. At the
recital, the musician spends most of his or her time trying to stylize their
playing. Making sure the audience has something to “watch” in addition to
listening to the music. Then there’s
always the chance that it might not even sound impressive in the end, and the
audience walks away wondering why something so flashy could sound so flat.
Here, we have made the audience center
of attention, as the musician operates on the fear that their music is not
entertaining enough and needs to have a little more clout in order to attract a
favorable response. Instead, we should
play music to express instead of impress. Expression should not be overlooked, because
without expression, music would just be ordered notes floating through space.
Expression can have the form of accuracy.
During a shootingway ceremony, the singers must make sure they are
performing the piece accurately and in its entirety. It is a strenuous process, but it is crucial
that they must experience the music in order to present it to the rest of the
tribe. The end results in what is called
an “impressive drama” by David P. McAllester.
At its culmination, it is seen as impressive, because it was expressed
by fervent singers, dancers, and sand-drawers who were only trying to reconnect
the severed bridge between the human and divine.
Degrees as a caste system:
In Javanese Gamelan and in the ASU School
of music, each person has their allotted instrument and time to participate in
the final product. In gamelan, it would
be the 32 beat gong cycle, and at ASU it’s a four-year degree. During my time here, I have begun to see the major
maps as stringent guidelines that have turned into a caste system. Basically, if you want to learn many things,
you can’t; you must stay limited to the things in your degree. If this were Javanese
gamelan and all the instruments were arranged on stage, I would play my
peking. Patiently, I have waited for my
gongang and entered in to double the notes and echo the melody. The music is captivating as the instruments
interlock and shimmer in an elaboration of unbelievable texture. So I decide to take my hammer, stand up and
walk around playing each one of my favorite instruments. But I can’t do that. The drummer puts me back
in place and I must sit in front of my peking for the rest of my four years and
have only the opportunity to listen to the music happening around me, as I
watch my fleeting chance to learn pass away.
Conclusion:
My
quest proved that the school of music at ASU is nothing like the stories of my
trusted elders. It has become only a
refinery for me; a place to discover what still remains. Now I know my true interests and
aspirations. The plane is approaching
and all I have left is this used parachute. I shall hold this parachute in my
hands as I walk back to my hometown, as it symbolizes much to me, and will
become the basis of my oral history.
