Musicking

Every field has its deep, philosophical questions. It can be worth the time, when we are engrossed in the details of our practice and our performances, to stop for a moment and ponder some of the more existential questions related to our art. 

In a book titled Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening, author and scholar Christopher Small asks two such questions: "What is the meaning of music?" and "What is the function of music in human life?" Before offering a response, however, he recommends a shift in our thinking. In particular, he suggests we entertain the idea that "music is not a thing at all but an activity, something that people do."

Small explains how, in the Western music tradition, we often equate the word "music" with "works of music" (songs, symphonies, musicals, etc.). Under this understanding, what is most valued is the "created art object" (the song) instead of "the action of art" (singing, playing, listening). This has led to a belief that the goal of performing is to honor, uphold, or serve the music (the created art object) instead of the people "musicking" (singer, player, listener). Small turns this idea on its head, stating, "Performance does not exist in order to present musical works, but rather, musical works exist in order to give performers something to perform." Therefore, as he says, music's "primary meanings" are social. 

With this mindset, the goal of performance shifts away from singing a piece "properly" or "correctly." Instead, we give primacy to how the act of singing a particular song may impact you (the performer) and the people you are singing for. In other words, rather than placing the focus so intensely on the music itself and how perfectly those notes and rhythms are being executed, we can prioritize the communal aspect of the performance. Small writes, "The act of musicking establishes...a set of relationships, and it is in those relationships that the meaning of the act lies. They are to be found...between the people who are taking part, in whatever capacity, in the performance." These relationships between all those who are "musicking" become actual (experienced in the moment) and aspirational, as they serve to represent—or serve as a metaphor for—every ideal relationship we hope to have in life: "relationships between person and person, between individual and society, between humanity and the natural world and even perhaps the supernatural world." 

There is a Swedish proverb that reads, "Those who wish to sing always find a song." Considering the thoughts above, if we have a wish or a desire to sing, it is likely because we have a desire to be in relationship with each other. When that is our wish, the "music" we choose to sing is a secondary concern. Instead, we prioritize the people who are invited "to music" together. 

I'm looking forward to musicking once more with you all during vocal juries and class finals. Thanks for a wonderful semester. 

Watch Yourself! (and invite your inner critics along)

Part of theatre education involves learning how to fairly evaluate performances. In order to do this well, we have to pay attention, thoughtfully take in what we are seeing, and then identify what elements are contributing to, or detracting from, the success of the performance. When doing this, you may imagine what you might do differently if you were the director of the scene or if you were speaking the same text or singing the same notes as the person you're observing. 

Analyzing performances in this way doesn't have to be done with any mean-spiritedness or  schadenfreude. When done with a curious mind, it helps develop the crucial evaluation skills we all need as artists. 

Those same skills can be used for self-evaluation, which takes practice and honing in order to be productive. We all know that we can be our own worst critics. But we can turn that around and use the same observation skills to be our own best evaluators. 

One of the most useful ways to self-evaluate is to video record yourself singing and then watch it as if you are an outside observer. If you're not used to doing that (or have never really tried it), it can be uncomfortable at first since we seem to be conditioned to zero in on our flaws. But honest observation involves identifying areas that can be improved and strategizing ways to work on those parts of your performances. It also, importantly, means identifying the aspects of your performance that are going well that you want to keep or build upon. It takes some conscious effort, but these evaluations can be done without judging yourself or beating yourself up over not being perfect.

In the last blog, I shared some thoughts related to avoidance from The Empowered Performer by Sharon L. Stohrer. The book also has a chapter called "Tell Your Inner Critic to Shut the H*ll Up!" in which Stohrer suggests actually inviting your inner critics to sit with you when you view your videos of practice sessions. As she writes, "The Inner Critics and Judges are part of us. They can help us evaluate our rehearsals and performances, giving us useful feedback. The trick is to harness their wisdom, but avoid giving them power." (p.133)

Once we get to performance time, however, those critics no longer get to speak up. Stohrer once again quotes author Brené Brown, who suggests speaking directly to our inner critics before performances, saying, "I see you, I hear you, but I'm going to show up and do this anyway. I've got a seat for you and you're welcome to come, but I'm not interested in your feedback." (p.134)

As we get closer to end-of-the-semester juries and class performances, try video recording some run-throughs of your songs. Then sit down with your inner critics and put your observation skills to work. Just like theatre critics who write reviews, we can rave about the highlights and take note of the areas for improvement. Then, as performance time nears, we can politely but forcefully remind those critics that it's time to shut the hell up. 

Now go practice.