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Ballad of the never picked:
A qualitative study of self-perceived nonmusicians’ perceptions of their musicality
Eve Ruddock
This thesis is presented for the degree of Master of Music Education
of The University of Western Australia
School of Music
2007
ii
DECLARATION FOR THESES CONTAINING PUBLISHED WORK
AND/OR WORK PREPARED FOR PUBLICATION
This thesis does not contain work that I have published, nor work under consideration for publication. The
thesis is completely the result of my own work, and was substantially conducted during the period of
candidature, unless otherwise stated in the thesis.
Signature …
…………………………….
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Abstract
Humans are a musical species and every culture has its music. However, twenty
individuals out of a cohort of twenty-nine participants in this study judged themselves to
be ‗not musical‘. Through their words, silences and responses, the story of music in the
lives of these self-perceived non-musicians uncovered a musical world where concepts
of performance, judgment and talent dominate. My investigation into individuals‘
perceptions of their musicality revealed a pervasive societal belief that individuals were
either born ‗musical‘ or they were not; their everyday reality was one where music was
perceived as a performance, an object, something that only talented people can ‗do‘. I
planned conversations with participants that aimed to reveal clues that could help to
unravel a paradox that lies within music in our Western culture: every young human is
intrinsically musical but only some are born with a gift to be musical.
Participant convictions that they were not musical deterred some individuals from active
engagement in music making. They felt as if they had been left out of the ‗musical
ballpark‘. Details from conversations illustrated a constricting cultural imposition on
individuals; this was perpetuated in many schools and also in private music teaching.
Data revealed that current educational practice contributed to a denial of a natural
birthright and alienated some individuals from being part of a musical community. As
their stories revealed failed attempts to engage in music making, iterative contacts
created a daunting quantity of data. But there was poetry in participant data. These selfperceived non-musicians simultaneously demonstrated their musicality in the rhythms
of their narrative as they denied that they were musical; this emerged as a means to
report the research whereby participants‘ words combined to tell a non-musician‘s tale.
Compelling narrative revealed a society where educational practice does little to address
individual musical development. While each story alone was specific and complex,
once the stories became woven together as a complex and contradictory whole, the
ballad of the never picked captured the essence of a distanced musicality in our Western
society. Narrative drove towards meaning. Through interpretation and detailed
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qualitative analysis, understandings began to emerge from depths of experience and
from friction existing within contradictions. Deep within narrative which evolved over a
period of five years were perceptions that led to understandings of our cultural reality.
Active involvement in this research became part of an emancipatory process for several
participants where mutually reflective acts exposed unnecessary impositions from
societal expectations. Participant voices uncover a bifurcated reality wherein the
musical development of many individuals is undermined through an ignorance of
holistic human potential; this musical-unmusical divide is perpetuated in educational
practice.
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Table of Contents
ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................. III
TABLE OF CONTENTS ............................................................................................... V
LIST OF FIGURES .................................................................................................. VIII
LIST OF TABLES .................................................................................................... VIII
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ......................................................................................... IX
CHAPTER ONE ............................................................................................................. 1
OUR MUSICAL-UNMUSICAL DIVIDE .................................................................... 1
Music ....................................................................................................................................................... 7
Musicality ................................................................................................................................................ 8
Noise........................................................................................................................................................ 9
Sound ....................................................................................................................................................... 9
Being Musical........................................................................................................................................ 10
Being Unmusical ................................................................................................................................... 10
Being a Musician ................................................................................................................................... 11
A research journey begins ............................................................................................ 12
The Purpose of this Study...................................................................................................................... 13
Pathways to a Question ......................................................................................................................... 14
Conceptual Framework ......................................................................................................................... 16
Garnering Trust ..................................................................................................................................... 18
Limitations ............................................................................................................................................ 19
Thesis Outline ................................................................................................................ 20
CHAPTER TWO .......................................................................................................... 23
BACKGROUND ........................................................................................................... 23
Music education: an ‗extra‘ for some .................................................................................................... 23
Music education towards self-knowing? ............................................................................................... 25
A frill in the curriculum? ....................................................................................................................... 29
Negative musical identity ...................................................................................................................... 29
Tension between curricula aspiration and provision ............................................................................. 32
Music in the Curriculum ........................................................................................................................ 35
A road to questions ....................................................................................................... 37
Humans and Music ................................................................................................................................ 37
Towards hearing non-musicians‘ voices ............................................................................................... 39
Towards Method: A road most cluttered ............................................................................................... 40
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CHAPTER THREE ...................................................................................................... 41
METHODOLOGY........................................................................................................ 41
Background ........................................................................................................................................... 42
Research design and the emerging data ................................................................................................. 46
Phase One....................................................................................................................... 49
Initial interviews lead to Stories ............................................................................................................ 49
The setting ............................................................................................................................................. 51
Phase Two ...................................................................................................................... 51
Twenty-eight Participants: Data saturation achieved? ........................................................................... 52
A Philosophic Lens: A questioning approach ....................................................................................... 53
Researcher Subjectivity ......................................................................................................................... 56
Summary of Research Design and Techniques ..................................................................................... 56
Qualitative analysis reveals central themes ........................................................................................... 59
Iterative themes: The method evolves ................................................................................................... 62
Conceptual framework and the research design .................................................................................... 62
CHAPTER FOUR ......................................................................................................... 67
THE TALES BEGIN .................................................................................................... 67
The Talent Notion: Who the heck told them they could sing? ............................................................... 69
Vance‘s Version of what it means to be musical ................................................................................... 72
Initial Pilot Interviews: Issues and directions ............................................................ 77
‗Blue‘ blows in ...................................................................................................................................... 77
Rhonda .................................................................................................................................................. 78
Towards the never picked ...................................................................................................................... 80
The Ballad of the never picked .................................................................................... 82
Sonya Speaks ......................................................................................................................................... 82
Western perceptions nominate the never picked ................................................................................... 85
The educator and the ‗drop-out‘ ............................................................................................................ 85
Vic confirms the ‗talent account‘ .......................................................................................................... 86
The never picked ................................................................................................................................... 88
Learning to be the never picked ............................................................................................................. 90
From the horse‘s mouth ......................................................................................................................... 93
Locked out! .................................................................................................................... 95
The never picked denied music learning ............................................................................................... 97
Developmental music learning: not for all .......................................................................................... 100
Musicality of the ‗non-musical‘ .......................................................................................................... 102
CHAPTER FIVE: ....................................................................................................... 104
MUSICAL? NOT IN THE BALLPARK! ................................................................. 104
Learning to be not musical ......................................................................................... 104
Music learning at school ...................................................................................................................... 106
That's why I'm not even in the ballpark ............................................................................................... 109
Music of life? I‘m just an observer ...................................................................................................... 110
Meg’s Reflections ........................................................................................................ 111
Meg‘s Story ......................................................................................................................................... 112
Bush Basics: A Different Perspective ................................................................................................. 116
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CHAPTER SIX ........................................................................................................... 120
BALLAD OF HARRY LAWSON ............................................................................. 120
Data as interpretation: subjectivities facing subjectivities ................................................................... 122
Harry‘s Story ....................................................................................................................................... 125
Music in education .............................................................................................................................. 127
‗I‘m not musical‘: Confirmed .............................................................................................................. 129
Epiphany I ................................................................................................................... 131
Harry ‗Lawson‘ ................................................................................................................................... 132
Music’s Just A Frill ............................................................................................................................. 134
Epiphany II:................................................................................................................. 136
Emancipatory effects ........................................................................................................................... 143
CHAPTER SEVEN ..................................................................................................... 145
ASSUMPTIONS TELL A TALE .............................................................................. 145
Glimpse into a hidden world‘ .............................................................................................................. 146
Music and conversations lead to theory .............................................................................................. 150
Assumptions unfold ............................................................................................................................. 153
Musical involvement hangs on Judgement .......................................................................................... 155
CHAPTER EIGHT ..................................................................................................... 160
I DON’T HAVE THE KEY ........................................................................................ 160
Emancipatory Aspects ......................................................................................................................... 163
Towards a licence to do music ............................................................................................................ 164
REFERENCES ............................................................................................................ 166
APPENDIX A .............................................................................................................. 175
Self-perceived non-musician ‗pilot‘ participants ................................................................................. 175
Self-perceived Non-musician Participants .......................................................................................... 176
APPENDIX B .............................................................................................................. 177
Ballad of the never picked ................................................................................................................... 177
APPENDIX C .............................................................................................................. 179
He can hold a tune. No doubt about that. ............................................................................................ 179
APPENDIX D .............................................................................................................. 180
Meg‘s Childhood ................................................................................................................................. 180
APPENDIX E .............................................................................................................. 182
Faces in the Street ............................................................................................................................... 182
APPENDIX F............................................................................................................... 184
Glimpse into a hidden world ............................................................................................................... 184
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APPENDIX G .............................................................................................................. 188
Lateralus.............................................................................................................................................. 188
Chas’s Music ....................................................................................................................................... 189
APPENDIX H .............................................................................................................. 191
Participant views of their own singing ................................................................................................ 191
List of Figures
Figure 1: Overarching research design ........................................................................... 48
Figure 2 ‗Continuum‘ of Pilot Interviewees ................................................................... 81
Figure 3: The ‗Unnatural‘ Path of the never picked........................................................ 92
Figure 4: Participant narrative reveals innate musicality .............................................. 103
Figure 5: Caught in non-musical lifecycle. ................................................................... 110
Figure 6: Musical = being able to sing. ......................................................................... 147
List of Tables
Table 1: Example of perceptions that led to emergence of themes................................. 60
Table 2: Example of perceptions of ‗musicality‘ and self-judgement ............................ 61
Table 3: Criteria to ensure fair (and so useful) research practice ................................... 63
Table 4: Vi and Vance: a comparison of views on musicality ........................................ 75
Table 5 ‗Blue‘: Pride and Talent ..................................................................................... 78
Table 6: Raw data reveal non-musical journeys ............................................................ 95
Table 7: Self-judgement in response to societal expectations ...................................... 105
Table 8: School ‗learning‘ contributes to non-musical perceptions.............................. 108
Table 9: Private music lessons contribute to non-musical perceptions......................... 109
Table 10: Meg‘s Perceptions: Themes from Pilot Interviews reinforced ..................... 116
Table 11: Music in education ........................................................................................ 128
Table 12: Contradictions reveal social persuasions. ..................................................... 131
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Acknowledgements
Firstly, I would like to acknowledge the support of School of Music and the Graduate
Research School of the University of Western Australia.
I wish to thank Sam Leong who encouraged me to pursue the elusive questions that
drove this research. With Sam‘s departure to Hong Kong, special appreciation goes to
Suzie Wijsman and to David Lines for their continued encouragement. Suzie‘s belief in
my work and her thoughtful observations helped to give me the confidence to venture
down an unconventional path towards understanding. David‘s perceptive responses
from across the Tasman helped to keep my focus on central issues; his insightful
directives kept me on track to forge through masses of data. I am also grateful to Bruce
Haynes who read and commented on several chapters. He challenged me to pursue
educational issues that arose and his special interest gave me further confidence that this
work had pertinence and worth for education.
Deepest acknowledgements go to all participants who agreed to take part in the study; it
is ‗their reality‘ that forms the essence of this thesis. Without their willingness to share
their stories and their generosity in staying with my ‗never-ending‘ project, this research
would not have eventuated. In particular, special thanks go to the key participants who
showed great patience and strength during our iterative communications. Their own
reflections were of great value as they contributed to emerging understandings.
I also wish to recognise Bob Webster who was always prepared to fix the many
computing problems that arose over the years. My deepest appreciation goes to my
husband Ian for his (almost) unflagging support and his experienced editorial skills.
Finally, special thanks go to my family and friends for their patience and diversion.
1
Chapter One
Our musical-unmusical divide
Two things teach man about his whole nature: instinct and experience
(Pascal, 1995).
…as I am sure you can tell, I am not musical at all.
I was stunned to read these words that concluded a note from the young mother of one
of my piano students. Her phrase stayed with me and I was puzzled. Her inquiry about
Lizzie‘s progress became a catalyst for my study. What was it that brought her mother
to write these words? How could it be that an intelligent young woman might perceive
herself as being not musical at all? I had assumed that all people were musical (in their
different ways) yet as I began to research the literature and to listen to individuals
speaking in community settings, I began to recognise that my assumption was
misplaced and not shared by all.
In an on-going study1 into perceptions of musicality that includes self-perceived
musicians and from examples in current media reports, several participants reveal how
music acted as a tangible aid towards emotional health. With no aspect of ‗performance‘
involved, the following instances give illustrations of music as a conduit towards well
being:
A young woman, very upset because of a relationship break up, sat at the piano
and began to play nostalgic romantic songs. Her reasons for doing this were that
‗it‘s just nice…it expresses emotions when you can‘t figure it out. Music‘s
usually about emotions. It‘s more focussed. I like doing it because I can.‘
(professional musician).
Bitterly disappointed with her TEE results, a seventeen year old started to play a
manic composition on the piano. It became louder and faster as the tears rolled.
(limited instrumental learning, sang in school choirs).
As you can see I‘m not really very good on the flute. It makes my musician son
shudder! But actually, I love the physicality of the blowing and moving the
1
My original plan included musicians but, when material from self-perceived non-musicians grew in
depth to demand a singular focus, it was necessary to file the musicians‘ interview material for later use.
The first two instances are from this self-perceived musician cohort.
2
hands that the breath is at one with the flute and when I‘m doing it I can‘t think
of anything else, I know its terrible playing but, to me it takes me away from
things…It‘s just the physicality of it all that overwhelms me.2
The young woman‘s response, Because I can, represented the calming, ‗therapeutic‘
effects that being able to ‗do‘ music, regardless of any performance standard, had for
these three individuals. This young woman could do music because singing and
instrumental learning were part of her ‗formal‘ education. For those who feel free to
engage in listening to and in the making of music, they can benefit from its affects as it
enriches everyday emotional expression; music involvement can affect people in other
‗nontrivial ways [as] selfhood and identity are created‘ (Bowman, 2002, p. 76).
Self-perceived non-musician participants in my research also reported instances where
music demonstrated its capacity to help develop their particular identity as well as being
a means whereby they integrated with similar others to form social groups. Both
‗musicians‘ and ‗non-musicians‘ saw music as a powerful social tool that helped them
to cope with real life situations, to get to know themselves and to identify with like
others. Because the influence of music was strong, it was important to consider some
effects for these participants as they lived their lives caught by convictions that they
were not musical and could not do music. Their stories echo a personal revelation in the
preface to The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind and Body,
where Mithen (2005, p. vii) writes of the widespread desire to ‗to make and listen to
music [which] is an indelible part [of] the human condition‘ even for those who feel
estranged from active music engagement. He claims that we humans are ‗compelled to
make and listen to music [and that] music is the most mysterious, wonderful and
neglected feature of humankind,‘ (p. vii) yet he then admits to being saddened about his
own inability to make music with his family. His belief that he ‗can neither sing in tune
nor clap in rhythm‘ (p. vii) and that any attempt to sing on his behalf ‗is a deeply
unpleasant experience for all involved‘ (p. vii) articulates the reality for many
respondents of this study.
When compared to observations regarding the potential for ‗musicking‘ by music
educator Boyce-Tillman (2000, pp. 186-187), Mithen‘s ‗deeply unpleasant experience‘
2
Ron McCallum, Dean of Law at the University of Sydney, was interviewed for the Encounter program,
13.05.07 on the ABC. Following a year of stress, his wife had given him a flute for his 43rd birthday.
3
raises important questions regarding the everyday potential to do music in our ‗Western‘
society. Boyce-Tillman suggests that making music can lead to an inner harmony that is
not dependent upon musical expertise. Also, confirming it as a phenomenon that can
contribute to our self-knowing, Bowman (2002, p. 76) emphasises music as an aspect of
our lives that can deliver insights to affect incremental self-awareness. Indeed, several
participants in the present study acknowledged the essential role that music has played
in forming their identity. But although they recognised the vital part that music played
in their knowing of the self, the respondents who perceived themselves to be nonmusical nevertheless accepted their ‗lack of being musical‘ status without question.
There were also several participants who, despite attempts to resist societal assumptions
that undermined their self-perceptions of being musical, remained convinced by the
widespread ‗myth‘ (Sloboda, et. al., 1994, p. 349) that music understanding and
acquisition of musical skills depended on being born with a particular gift. However,
since active music making is mostly restricted to a talented minority in our culture,
Davidson and her colleagues suggest that the cause of the talent-myth lies in this
condition itself because ‗most people are unaware of how performance skills are
developed‘ (Davidson et. al., p. 189); they fail to realise the significance of lack of a
nurturing musical environment. Such perceptions are reminiscent of a view already
expressed by Davies in 1978 when he referred to beliefs about music being situated in
‗pure mysticism‘. He suggested that many individuals were scared away by the ‗magical
properties of some sort of musical priesthood‘ (1978, p. 15).
A widespread adherence to the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998)3 continues despite
the increasing number of psychological studies that acknowledge the importance of both
hereditary and environmental influences that contribute to the development of particular
personalities as they learn and adapt (Hampson, 1995, p. 21) to their world. In a similar
way, participants in my study revealed diverse and conflicting effects of complex
interactions between personal, family and wider societal influences; some determined
that they were not musical while others, with similar musical skills, did not necessarily
label themselves in such a way. One young man, for instance, had already ‗learned‘ that
he was not musical by the time he was eight years of age. Despite the fact that he did
have one year of piano lessons when he was twelve years old, he insisted that he was
3
The ‗talent account‘ refers to a perception that innate potential is essential for exceptional achievement.
This concept of ‗giftedness‘ is used in music as a ‗qualification‘ whereby some children gain access to
learning opportunities denied those who are judged as not having particular ‗talents‘ (See Howe et al,
1998, p. 399).
4
‗was taught but never really learnt; he claimed that ‗there is a subtle difference.‘ That
subtle difference was later attributed to his knowing that he was not musical, so that,
while he enjoyed the actual experience, he knew that he ‗didn‘t have a particular talent‘
and he had already developed an expectation that it would not be easy for him to learn.
On the other hand, another participant simply viewed his lack of musical abilities to
insufficient learning opportunities and maintained a self-view of being musical.
Unresolved perceptions regarding the nature-nurture aspects of human development had
powerful affects on participants‘ perceived musical potentiality in my study; such ‗folk
psychology‘ (Sloboda et al, 1994a, p. 349) was seen to be a potent source of selflimitation for two-thirds of respondents. In the literature, issues surrounding the ‗talent
account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) became a focus for target articles (Sloboda et al., 1994a;
Howe et al., 1998) when questions addressed the role of innate talent as a main
determining factor for the development of musical skills. A scurry of intellectual
responses delivered an interesting debate (Sloboda et al., 1994a; Howe et al., 1998)
which placed a spotlight on the provision, or more accurately, the lack of provision for
music education in schools. As effective catalysts for stimulating emotive talk on the
value of the arts in education, this debate aired a concern that only the chosen few are
offered music learning. It was considered untenable that only those who were perceived
to be ‗talented‘ should receive offers to learn music while the majority were excluded
from active participation (1998b). Farnsworth (1969, p. 156) had already recognised
that no useful meaning could be attached to innate giftedness (as opposed to
development made possible by an individual‘s environment) yet informants in my study
were still found to be influenced by a belief that individuals were either musical or they
were not.
Such self judgements — consequences of complex interplay between these individuals
and their society as they responded to cultural influences (Sternberg, 1998, p. 428) —
were seen to leave two-thirds of the cohort of self-perceived non-musicians distanced
from their intrinsic musicality. Dominance of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998)
led them to a negative ‗self-understanding‘ (Sternberg, 1998, pp. 428-432) where they
insisted that they could not sing, play, or read music. It also made some of them
vulnerable to the influences of ‗commercial and industrial uses of music‘ (North &
Hargreaves, 1997, p. 268) which cemented their passive music reality and left some
open to manipulative social effects.
5
One lawyer participant in my research determined that her attempt to learn the guitar
proved that she had ‗no gift for it‘. ‗Let‘s face it,‘ she commented when she
acknowledged that ‗a lot of other people did manage to learn through that system.‘ Such
thinking is supported by Serafine (1988, p. 235) where she argued that an individual's
perception of something (musical ability) is determined by the way she thinks.
Unfortunate attempts to learn the guitar as a teenager had left the lawyer feeling
convinced that she was ‗the most ignorant person, musically‘. Yet, embedded in her
data was an instinctive awareness of the value of music; she revealed a determination to
make music making and listening accessible to her children so that they could inhabit a
different musical world from her own.
Diversity and commonality of meanings in the participants‘ worlds uncovered the
idiosyncratic impact of music on ‗personal soundscapes‘ (and selves); data also reveal
various and contrasting meanings implicit in music chosen. Several respondents did
consider that all humans were musical and this understanding is increasingly supported
by neurological research; studies involving human musicality reveal that it is dependent
on a subtle interaction of nature and nurture (Zatorre, quoted by Abbott, 2002, p. 14).
Recent research is now challenging the widespread Western phenomenon of labelling
individuals as ‗musical‘ or ‗unmusical‘ (Nettl, 2007). As he looks beyond disciplinary
categories, for instance, neuroscientist and musician, Mark Tramo claims that music is a
part of our genetic heritage (Cromie, 2001, p. 1) and that,
…[a]ll of us are born with the capacity to apprehend emotion and meaning in
music, regardless of whether we understand music theory or read musical
notation. Without conscious effort, the human brain is able to translate spectral
and temporal patterns of acoustic energy into music's basic perceptual elements:
melody, harmony, and rhythm. Music, like language, is an acoustically based
form of communication with a set of rules for combining a limited number of
sounds in an infinite number of ways. Universal among human cultures, music
binds us in a collective identity as members of nations, religions, and other
groups (Tramo, 2001, p. 54).
Psychiatrist Anthony Storr (1992) agrees that ‗music can provoke intense, genuine
emotional arousal, from ecstatic happiness to floods of tears‘ (p. 29), yet he believes
that these profound effects of music are experienced by some individuals only. ‗As one
would expect,‘ he argues, ‗the unmusical person is less physiologically aroused than the
musical person‘. While Storr does recognise that a musical person may ‗include
ordinary listeners as well as professional musicians‘ (1997, p. 168), the experiences of
6
several participants of this study suggest that the cause of their estrangement lies within
their own society. In several cases, participants indicated that feelings of being unable to
read musical notation or to ‗understand‘ music caused them to doubt their innate
musicality. Yet Tramo‘s work demonstrates that humans require no ‗conscious effort‘ to
process and respond to music (Tramo, 2001, p. 54).
Neurological research, such as that carried out by Tramo, provided a knowledge base to
support researchers and educators who question the talent notion. With measurable data
to support an argument for the crucial part played by listening and learning
(Altenműller, 2004, pp. 30, 31), the experiential account for gaining musical ability
pointed to the essential role played by developmental learning in the gaining of
particular musical skills. Indeed, it was the search to make sense of participants‘
convictions that they were ‗not musical‘ that first led me to the research of John
Sloboda and his colleagues (1994a). In their consideration of what they termed was an
accepted ‗myth‘ in Western society where ‗gifted‘ individuals appear to easily acquire
skills to sing or play (1994a, p. 349), they presented research showing that musical
skills were learned, just as other skills were learned (in many different ways) in the way
that individuals necessarily worked towards acquiring expertise (Sloboda et al, 1994b,
p. 364). As I continued a literature search, it became increasingly clear that there was no
consensus on the nature of human musicality and it seemed rational to heed the
suggestion made by Nettl (2007) that, while it is essential to refer to formal references
from the literature, it is also important to ask ‗average members of a population‘ for
their experiences regarding music and meaning.
It became ironical that, for this research, the decision to divide the self-perceived nonmusician participants into two groups ‗not musical‘ and ‗musical‘ came from the
emergent data itself. Of the 29 self-perceived non-musicians, 20 individuals had
developed a belief that they were not musical. Because the remaining 9 individuals
could not play an instrument or sing, they perceived themselves to be ‗non-musicians‘
but maintained perceptions of being musical persons. While limits of time and space
caused the research lens to focus on the first group for this study, data from the selfperceived ‗musical non-musicians‘ contributed varied perceptions enabling the process
of analysis and providing a wider perspective from which to view the ‗non musical‘
participant position.
7
Music
Before exploring perceptions of human musicality, it was first necessary to consider the
meaning of music. Many varied ‗expert‘ definitions of music have come from the pens
of professional musicians as they contributed to an understanding of music in Western
societies. As these authors referred to sound as an outcome of human activity, their
formal definitions often revealed an emphasis on elite knowledge involving ‗talent and
creativity‘ (Nettl, 2007). Because my aim was to explore perceptions of self-perceived
non-musicians, it became important to acknowledge not only such formal definitions of
music and musicality but also to explore the extent to which these perceptions affected
the everyday lived experiences of respondents. I found that participants‘ impressions of
the world of music were constrained by the notion of giftedness and dominated by a
belief that it was reasonable for only some individuals to have a capacity to do music.
Music maintains its mystery. In the early stages of this research, I found a useful
working definition where music is ‗human behaviour that serves a variety of functions
in every culture‘ (Radocy & Boyle, 1988, p. 15). However, as perceptions from
participants accumulated, it became necessary to modify this meaning to include
insights from music educators and theorists (Small, 1998; Bowman, 1998; 2005; Lines,
2003), natural scientists (Gray, et al., 2001) and brain science researchers (Tramo,
2001). In an attempt to avoid ambiguity it was important to decide upon a clear
definition of ‗music‘. For the purposes of this study, then, music refers to sound (in all
its ramifications comprising many different combinations of pitches, timbres and
rhythms) that is perceived as music. This sound may be ‗humanly generated sonic
expression‘ (Lines, 2005b, p. 3) or, as several participants believe, it may result from
human response to natural events (such as birdsong and other elements of sound in
nature).
Bowman's (1998, p. 16) broad social view of music as something which is physical,
mindful, social and psychological, is useful for this study. Yet, particular experiences of
participants caused me to look beyond understandings of music as a consciously
conceived human construction to one that included human response to a ‗natural
phenomenon.‘ In researching the perspectives of this group of self-perceived nonmusicians, music involvement was seen to relate to individuals as they ‗listened‘ to,
‗appreciated,‘ were ‗influenced by,‘ or ‗did‘ their own music as they lived and
responded to the world around them.
8
It was actual participant responses, then, that led to a perception of music that included
both music as self aware human construction or ‗manmade‘ (the term used by one
respondent) music and also the ‗music of nature‘, where ‗natural‘ sounds are perceived
as music. This study did not focus on music involvement that leads to the production of
fine ‗art works [which] project truths within the historical context of a people‘ (Lines,
2005c, p. 73). Rather, musical involvement referred to human activity which allowed
for authentic individual and group expression and connection as part of everyday
cultural reality as well as a human connection with the natural world. Further to the
above meaning of music, then, for this study it is important to emphasise Small‘s
understanding that ‗[m]usic is not a thing at all but an activity, something that people
do‘ (Small 1988, p. 2). It is necessary, too, to argue against Bowman‘s consideration
that ‗[m]usical experience is…a fundamentally social phenomenon‘ (2000, p. 75 &
Note 70, p. 82). Bowman does note elsewhere (1998) that ‗the border between ‗the
musical‘ and ‗the extramusical‘ has become severely eroded and difficult to patrol‘ (p.
394) and he sought to understand ‗the nature and value of music‘ (p. 3); to get to the
roots of what is ‗uniquely and distinctly musical‘ (p. 3). Yet, four years later in
Educating Musically (2002) he suggested that experiences ‗devoid of social significance
would not be musical, merely sonorous‘ (Note 70, p. 82). I suggest that such a view is
unnecessarily limiting in our understanding of what music is and how it can be for each
different individual. When Boyce-Tillman (2000, pp. 186-187) demonstrates how we
can be ‗at one with...the sonic environment…by musicking‘, by which she includes
imitation of and deep awareness of ‗the sounds‘ surrounding individuals as they
harmonise with their world, she illustrates a broader view.
Musicality
What is generally meant by musicality is also far from certain (Cantwell & Jeanneret,
2004, p. 8). Hallam notes that there is no generally accepted definition but she
recognises that, frequently, it refers to a ‗musical‘ person (2006, p. 93). Such an
individual may either have a fondness for music or may demonstrate performance skills,
so the term often presupposes a possession of particular abilities and talents (Hallam,
2006, p. 93). For one participant, for instance, his musicality allowed him to connect
with particular friends as they felt a close reciprocity in a musical ‗loop‘. Another
participant described how music gave her a connection to her world.
9
Formal definitions provide useful points of reference for this thesis. Where the Oxford
English Dictionary Online (OED) refers to the ‗quality or character of being musical;
accomplishment or aptitude in music; musical sensibility‘, the Grove Music Online
(Nettl, 2007) includes a Western perspective that touches on the essential aspect that
relates to participants in this study. Nettl acknowledges the widespread assumption of
western psychologists that musicality is a ‗thing…possessed by individuals to varying
degrees‘ and notes that ‗it is common to distinguish between musical and unmusical
[my italics] persons‘.
Sloboda and his colleagues appreciate implications that result from this understanding
(Sloboda, et al., 1994b). While they consider musicianship to be something that people
learn, they acknowledge that many ‗experts‘ continue to perceive musicality in terms of
a mythical aptitude (often referred to as a special talent or giftedness) as they respond to
a critic: ‗Regrettably, we do not have to pretend that the world is full of people who
believe that talent is either present or it is not…try talking to a few musicians!‘ (p. 364).
It is regrettable, too, that music teachers are swayed by the ‗talent‘ notion when they
‗decide which young people are to receive instruction‘ (Howe et al., 1998, p. 399).
Howe and his colleagues go on to note that such instructors ‗believe that children cannot
do well unless they have special innate gifts‘.
Noise
Noise may be understood as a sound which is opposite to music. A primary school
teacher participant defined music as ‗something that I like…a noise that‘s not a noise.‘
This could mean that sounds are heard as noise when they have negative effects for the
listener. However, what some individuals hear as music, others perceive as noise. While
to some people operatic singing delivers sounds of great art and beauty, to others this is
definitely not the case; one participant‘s perception of this musical genre is that it is a
cause of intense annoyance. He ‗found the Italian operatic stuff a peculiarly nineteenth
century abomination [which did not] have anything going for it at all…I don‘t find the
nineteenth century romantic German trucks [sopranos and contraltos] at all worth
listening to‘.
Sound
A clear understanding of the concept of ‗sound‘ is also deemed important as it has come
to be part of much day-to-day discourse about music. Sound is a result of audible
10
vibrations transmitted through the air that make up rhythms and harmonies; these result
in either music or noise. The scientific concept of sound has developed in the last 150
years alongside technological developments in sound production, the discovery of the
‗timpanic function‘, the technology of stereo sound and more recently the development
of digital sound production, construction and distribution.
Being Musical
A definition of being ‗musical‘ from a nineteen-year old participant, who was a
university drop-out, offered a way towards unlocking the complex understandings of
musicality evident in this study:
Humans are a musical species (as the beating of drums is a very primeval thing).
As a rule, all humans are musical and do have a response to music.
Despite this seemingly positive understanding of being ‗musical‘, the notion that this
‗musical‘ aspect of humans necessarily inferred a capability for expert performance led
many of the participants to believe that they were ‗not musical‘. This perception,
surprisingly, included the above university drop-out who claimed that ‗all humans are
musical‘. In order to interpret findings, I needed a working concept of being ‗musical‘
that allowed some understanding beyond the commonly held belief that depended upon
an individual‘s ability to sing or to play some instrument to an acceptable standard. As
one participant explained, ‗a person may not be able to sing or play an instrument but
their speaking voice (their expression or tone, inflections of their voice) might be
musical‘. For this study, then, being ‗musical‘ refers to a broad cultural reality where
humans work ‗with music‘ (Lines, 2005c, p. 66) as it is reflected in and it reflects our
everyday existence as musical beings.
Being Unmusical
For several individuals in this present study, a perception that they did not ‗understand‘
music had impacted on their self-judgement and led them to feel that they were not
musical. Feeling that they were ignorant of essential musical knowledge, these
participants‘ perceptions matched a definition offered by the OED where ‗unmusical‘ is
defined as ‗not musically gifted; not appreciative of music‘ (Oxford English Dictionary
Online). There is no scope within this study to include a consideration of individuals
who suffer from ‗congenital amusia‘ (Abbott, 2002, p. 13). The self-professed ‗nonmusical‘ individuals who volunteered for this research expressed feelings of inadequacy
because of a perceived inability to ‗understand‘. One individual, for instance,
11
questioned whether he could ‗really absorb the nuances of what‘s happening with all
these different notes‘. Another remembered that, when she attempted to learn an
instrument in her mid-teens, she ‗didn‘t understand what a note was. [She] felt it was a
foreign language and just couldn‘t grasp it.‘
When one young woman announced that she ‗must be the most unmusical person
you‘ve ever interviewed‘ and said ‗I wouldn‘t say any of my family were ‗musical,‘ her
judgement may be traced to societal expectations. She recognised that, while none of
her family could sing, she also noted that they had not experienced any musical training
or extensive exposure to singing or playing. As she continued to enjoy music and was
perceptive in her choice of favoured recordings, however, this individual would fail to
properly qualify as ‗unmusical,‘ or ‗nonmusical‘. Rather, I argue that her self-judgement
was an outcome of Western societal assumption (Nettl, 2006).
While two-thirds of the participants of this study categorised themselves as being ‗not
musical‘, their data indicated that such judgement referred to their own perceptions.
These resulted from beliefs that they could not sing or play to an ‗acceptable‘ standard
as defined by societal expectations. Such perceptions were not substantiated by realities
within which these individuals demonstrated a genuine (and necessary) connection with
music and to their developing in an environment which did not provide for ‗natural‘
nurturing of music making.
Being a Musician
The Macquarie Dictionary (1991) defines a musician as ‗one who makes music a
profession…especially as a performer on an instrument‘ while the OED states that a
musician is ‗one skilled in the practice or science of music or a professional performer.‘
Thus, both definitions emphasise the importance of essential skills and highlight the
professional aspect of music making.
No participants in this study performed as a professional musician and most excluded
themselves from being perceived as any sort of musician. Several, however, did
consider themselves to be ‗musicians‘ in their own idiosyncratic ways. One young
university student struggled to address his position. While he considered that he
‗qualified‘ as ‗non-musician‘ for this study, he contributed another view where
12
…very loosely, I would describe myself as a musician but…I should qualify
this…oh no, I am…if I sing in the shower ‗n at the beach then maybe I‘m a
musician. Yeah. I‘ll call myself a musician I guess, but only very loosely, for the
record.
Such an understanding differed not just from The Macquarie and the OED but also from
societal understandings articulated in the writings of ethnomusicologist Merriam (1964,
p. 125) who asserts that: ‗All musicians...are specialists, and some musicians are
professionals, though the degrees of professionalism vary...the true specialist is a social
specialist; he must be acknowledged as a musician by the members of the society of
which he is a part.‘ To be legitimately perceived as a musician hinged principally on
whether an individual earned a livelihood from making music. Here, I would challenge
this imposed value (see Habermas, 1979) and consider the ambiguity suggested by a
young university student, who proclaimed that, for him, ‗music IS part of my identity.‘
For this study, while the term ‗musician‘ generally applies to professionals, it can also
include persons who respond to and make music as they connect with their world. For
this reason, I necessarily include ‗self-perceived‘ as part of the title of this ‗qualitative
study of self-perceived non-musicians‘.
A research journey begins
So many events occur during life as a teacher that many of them are assigned to a
miscellaneous box and left there to be considered when there is more time available.
From time to time, however, something happens that can set off an unintended chain of
events. The original catalyst for this study, Lizzie‘s mum, revealed not only her own
negative self-judgement regarding musical potential but also her fear that her daughter
would find herself in a similar predicament: ‗…I know she is enjoying the lessons
(which is important to us) but is she suited to playing the piano?‘
The mother‘s query and accompanying self-judgement stayed in my mind. How could it
be that she judged herself (and her daughter) in this way? With her question so clearly
in mind, I started to realise that her situation was not unique and I began to tune in to
many other individuals around me who also perceived themselves to be non musical. I
became aware of many instances where people missed out on music learning. One such
example came from a grandmother when she phoned to inquire about lessons for her
Year 8 grandson. While the boy‘s sister had been offered a place in the school
instrumental program when she was ‗tried out‘, she explained that her grandson did not
13
receive such an opportunity despite his on-going interest in playing an instrument. What
could it be about our society where the opportunity to learn music was so selective and
different from the study of other skills considered to be essential such as mathematics or
reading? Questions about access to music learning became a burning issue for me and
so, in order to find out just what was happening, this research was commenced.
At first, the issue was focussed on the uneven access to music learning and it was a
challenge to work towards a method that could lead to useful understandings. I decided
that an eclectic approach would be the most effective way of uncovering how
individuals felt about being musical and how this related to their desire to make music.
At first I planned pilot interviews to gain some indication of issues that emerged. These
were to be followed by a survey that could test the relevance of these issues using a
larger number of individuals before completing a final phase in the research which
would focus on a few case studies to enable results from the study to be applied in real
life situations. As this research necessarily adapted to insights from participants, I found
that this original plan needed to be adjusted. It became important to ‗link the living with
the studying of living‘ (Clandinin et. al., 2000, p. xxiv) as I worked to respond to the
research questions underlying the investigation.
The Purpose of this Study
My essential purpose for this study was to give voice to the reality faced by selfperceived non-musical non-musicians in our society. A wide search revealed a dearth of
available information; I could find little to assist me in the puzzle raised by the young
mother who had originally exposed her self-view of being non-musical together with a
strong suspicion that her daughter would not be able to make music either. How could it
be that she accepted such a situation without question? Where the current Western
Australian school curriculum warns that ‗Students can only learn to do what they have
the opportunity to encounter, do or see done.‘ (Curriculum Council, 1998 p. 33) and
acknowledges that music, as part of the ‗arts‘ develops ‗students‘ sense of personal and
cultural identity‘ (p. 49), it became important to explore this issue to determine whether
this was an isolated occurrence or a wider phenomenon.
Indeed, it was too easy to find participants who perceived that they were not musical, so
my purpose began to focus on exploring participant narratives which could be used to
reveal complex elements from everyday life. It was important for me to listen to
individuals‘ experiences and to record them for later interpretation to provide
14
information that may be useful for educational planning. My purpose revolved around
an iterative connection with participants on a mutual journey towards understanding
where together, the researcher and participants could examine real-life experiences so
that, through stories, we could ‗educate the self and others‘ (Clandinin et. al., 2000, p.
xxvi).
The investigation came to focus on self-perceived musicality of the 29 participants, as
we explored experiences which could reflect how feelings of being ‗musical‘ might
have affected opportunities to engage in active music making and listening. Guiding
questions related to understandings of the term ‗musical‘, the extent to which a musical
label impacts upon decisions by individuals to become involved in music and the extent
to which an understanding of the idea of being ‗musical‘ might impact on their
involvement in music. As participant stories reflected our current cultural and social
situations (Phillips & Burbules, 2000; Davidson, 1999; Hallam, 1997), they revealed
unfortunate gaps in the teaching and learning of music in our society. Vibrant accounts
of lived experiences provided a convincing base to facilitate reflections on nonmusicians‘ realities. These provided the reliable information that was necessary if we
were to address the current situation where serendipity often determined which
individuals had access to music learning and where only a select few received the
richness of a music education.
Pathways to a Question
If it were sensible to acknowledge that individual differences in musical behaviour were
an integral part of the human condition (Kemp, 1997), then to perceive individuals‘
musical performance skills as mainly dependent on innate ‗gifts‘ or ‗talents‘ would be
to deny powerful environmental influences that affected individual development
(Davidson et al p. 189). Kemp (1997, p. 25) was persuasive when he addressed
humanity more generally and acknowledged that inner drives may depend more on how
people are rather than what they actually do. His work stressed the importance of an
individual‘s disposition as a crucial determining factor in regard to what and how they
will engage in music or anything else. As participants revealed imposed perceptions of
not being musical, their experiences determined the purpose of this research and defined
focal issues which drove the research questions. However, when I sought information
from a paper (Hodges, 2003, p. 41) which highlighted the importance of music to all
humans and gave an overview of current research, I found that the participants included
15
only trained musicians. My overriding purpose, then, was to explore self-perceived nonmusicians‘ perceptions of their musicality and how these impacted on their involvement
with the world of music. A wide literature search together with a series of pilot
interviews led to the following research question: How can it be that musical beings feel
that they are not musical?
In answer to this, the three aims of this study were:

To uncover how individuals feel about being ‗musical‘.

To describe how they came to feel this way.

To describe and pursue an understanding beneath social and educational
experiences that lead to participants‘ perceptions.
Real-life participant experiences, elicited through observations and interviews, aimed to
provide useful information for individuals who desire to be involved in musicking
(Small, 1998) and for parents and teachers who need to make everyday decisions that
affect students. It was important that the telling of participants‘ stories could bring an
awareness of short and long-term effects of current practice which unintentionally had
the effect of restricting natural musical expression. I began to pursue the idea that it was
important to gain an insight into the underlying assumptions of these self-perceived
non-musicians; such knowledge could help to prevent inappropriate practice as
educators planned their curricula in schools and in private music studios.
Despite the increase in research into music and music education, there remains a void
when it comes to experiences of ‗non-musicians‘. Reliable research is crucial if we are
‗to reclaim music as a living and resonant educational medium that can create
opportunities for humans to engage in democratically artistic instances of work, power,
learning and enjoyment‘ (Lines, 2003, p. 13). To be of value, participant data presented
in this thesis must demonstrate that it is adequate (Greene 1997) and trustworthy.
Toward this end, iterative member checks work to ensure that transparent procedures do
represent real-life experiences of this cohort of ‗non-musicians‘ so that their stories have
value as a reliable source of information. My aim was that these trustworthy reports
from participants could provide essential knowledge whereby the participant stories
themselves might become a catalyst to free such individuals from constraints of an
artificially imposed musical/unmusical divide.
16
An accusation from one of the participants revealed a more profound issue connected
with the perception of musicality. This person, an educator himself, suggested that my
quest was based upon a specific focus on attributes of persons who chose not to engage
in actions that I valued ‗for reasons of [my] own‘. An ensuing struggle to allow this
challenging individual to hear my questions from a new perspective opened a new
puzzle that touched upon the actual nature of our society. I began to question the
substance of the concept that music was ‗not essential to life‘ (Bowman, 2002, p. 63).
While it became clear that this resulted in music being a peripheral ‗extra‘ in the
curriculum, my purpose became finely tuned into participant perceptions as I sought to
make sense of a strange phenomenon in our culture.
Conceptual Framework
The qualitative framework for this research acknowledged my own subjectivity
(Peshkin, 1988; 2000). I accepted that I was necessarily caught in my own reality, so
inevitably needed to conduct research from within my own ‗social and historical
context‘ (Phillips & Burbules, 2000) alongside qualitative analyses and philosophical
insights through which analyses occurred. In an attempt to capture and acknowledge my
own subjectivity and changing perspectives, I recorded thoughts and reactions in a
personal ‗Journal of Research‘. This on-going record of my own thought processes was
an important tool towards the recognition of my own preconceptions and the changing
perspectives of participants. Perceptions from my life experience became entangled
with lived realities of participants as we engaged in ‗collaboration…over time‘
(Clandinin et. al., 2000, p. 20).
Heidegger's (1958) directive that we only have minimal understanding of this path we
tread was helpful as I heeded his insight regarding the importance of the question, itself
formed in ignorance, but which, if carefully considered, could help us see how we are
travelling and so lead to useful insights. I recognised that the lived realities of
individuals within a society were constantly being constructed and re-constructed
depending on the interactions and relationships that are happening in their lives.
Iterative contacts with key participants provided rich data that helped me to work
towards a clearer understanding of how aspects of our society affected this group of
individuals regarding their engagement with music.
17
In the first phase of this investigation, I engaged in conversations with six participants.
Approximately one hour long, each interview was recorded and transcribed before I
forwarded my interpretation and questions that might arise from their perceptions back
to these ‗conversational partners‘ for their responses (Rubin & Rubin, 1995). These
‗member checks‘ (Punch, 1998, p. 260) were invaluable as I was able to adjust
inconsistencies in my perceptions and broaden the emerging scene with participant
responses.
My research focussed on perceptions of music and human musicality of self-perceived
non-musician participants. Their contrasting perspectives provided an opportunity to
explore disparate conceptions of music and musical individuals in our society. Through
a process of engaging with emerging understandings, I have made every effort to
maintain a methodological mix that will ensure strength and clarity in the study design
(Patton, 1990, p. 187). As a qualitative study, I constantly reflected on participants‘
disparate perspectives in an attempt to present a reality faced by non-musicians. I have
taken meticulous care in analysing data in order to gain insight into different
constructions of ‗musicality‘ as reported by each participant (Lincoln, 2002, p. 330).
This iterative process has required reflections on the part of the non-musicians as well
the researcher as we progressed along this, at times, circular path to understanding
(Punch, 1998).
With no ‗expert‘ in the diving seat, this reflective process has seen mutual benefits for
both inquirer and respondents as we shared knowledge through member checks, and
observations (Lincoln, 2002). Throughout this process, I made every effort to seek
understandings that will prove useful for teachers, parents and individuals in their
everyday pursuit of musical involvement. For this study to be useful, it was necessary to
draw on the work of experienced researchers and thinkers: it was humbling to
acknowledge how little we know about our true nature. Insights from writers both past
and present contributed to my capacity to reflect on participant data: the process began
to reveal much about our ‗whole nature‘ through both ‗instinct and experience‘ (Pascal,
1670/1995, p. 32). Reflections from informants led me to ask myself the following
questions:

What reasons might exist within our society that could lead individuals towards
perceptions of being unmusical?
18

What sense might there be in limiting music to a frill status in the education
curriculum?

What benefit might be had from ensuring that only the chosen few will gain access
to music making?

Is the music as frills approach of our education curriculum meeting the needs of
individuals?

To what extent does the selective offering of music instrumental learning affect selfperceived non-musicians?
Participant evidence confirmed that music is a catalyst for communicating with others.
Most of the self-perceived non-musicians recognised the value of music as a tool
towards social connection and used it as a means of knowing other individuals in a
deeper way. So, even for professed non-musical non-musicians, music was seen to
function as a means towards social cohesion (Sager 2005, p. 81). Such connections,
however, are not always encouraged by an educational system where it is too common
for music to be properly included only when a particular teacher in a school happens to
have musical interest and skills. Experiences of several participants who work in the
public education system confirm this as a widespread phenomenon in Western
Australia. Serendipitous provision of music has been a reality for Western Australian
children since the introduction of singing into the curriculum in 1892 (Mossenson,
1972, p. 89). This situation has remained, despite music being an official ‗subject‘ since
1898 (Government Gazette, Feb 26, 1898) and the 1982 Curriculum document
(Curriculum Branch, p. 3), stating that:
Music is for everyone. It is not the exclusive province of the talented or rich; it
belongs to all members of society. To deny children the opportunity of joyfully
participating in music is to deny them part of their growth in artistic and self
expression. Worse still, it continues the myth that music is an obscure, mystical
and irrelevant subject intended only for gifted people. (1982, p. 3).
Participants‘ perceptions and research questions became even more puzzling in the light
of official policy for music in schools.
Garnering Trust
Participant narrative underlies this qualitative study where 29 individuals focussed on
perceptions of their musicality. Multiple stories combine to provide insights into these
self-perceived non-musicians‘ tales and they blend through rigorous analyses to present
an overall picture of their musical world. As individual voices speak, they allow the
19
reader to empathise with their stories. Essential spaces within narrative allow for readers
to enrich the text and to experience their own reconstruction of participant experiences.
In this way, the reader continues the analytic process as part of the community of
researchers (Lincoln, 2002).
Based on trust and mutual exchanges relating to everyday musical realities, these stories
developed from on-going relationships with key participants over a period of five years.
My intent was that their honest, genial voices be heard to provide a way for perspectives
of self-perceived non-musicians‘ realities to find an accepted place in the educational
community so that fresh views of educational practice could be entertained. To expose
current lack of choice for persons who are labelled by institutions and society as ‗not
musical‘ is to give hope that their true ‗musical‘ reality will be recognised.
Limitations
This study focussed on the 20 of the cohort of 29 self-perceived non-musician
participants who perceived themselves to be ‗not musical‘. For this research thesis, it
was not possible to give proper consideration to the self-perceived ‗musical nonmusicians‘. The task of this research was to allow the voices of the self-perceived nonmusicians to be heard by educators and planners; the aim was to expose their reality, not
to propose a ready solution to negative aspects in our educational processes. Except for
several references to inclusive music education practice (Miller, 2004; Smith, 2004) that
would address the current ‗nihilism in music education‘ (Bowman, 2005, p. 30), it was
not possible, within the confines of this research, to consider specific curriculum content
or educational practice. This thesis emanated directly from non-musician perceptions
and the focus was necessarily fixed on individual experiences. As these revealed a
bifurcated reality, one that was endorsed by education curriculum and practice, they do
have important implications for education policy. But, although the lived experiences of
participants revealed situations demonstrating that changes need to occur in teacher
education and in classroom practice, limitations of this thesis did not allow for
considerations of changes in educational practice.
Insights in this study have been triggered both by contradictions within participant data
and by the thoughts of educators and theorists. I am especially indebted to the writings
of Christopher Small where he questioned accepted conventions so that his work
provided a perspective that reached beyond the limitations surrounding music education
20
in the West. Thinkers such as Heidegger led me toward new questions and a way to deal
with their asking. In his considered observations of communicative action within our
Western cultural reality, the writings of Habermas helped to clarify and set in a broader
perspective those findings which I first perceived to be new understandings. Other than
acknowledging a debt to their work, the limited scope of this thesis does not allow for
more than brief references to these and other theorists‘ thinking. It is important,
however, to recognise the contribution of their thinking to deeper analysis of data and
implications rising from participant realities.
Thesis Outline
This qualitative study has been undertaken to address contradictions embedded in selfperceived non-musicians‘ views of their musicality. Information from six key
conversational partners, part of a cohort of 29 participants, painted a picture of a society
in which a form of human expression has been undermined by the prevailing
educational process. As mutual respect and trust was built between researcher and
participants, insights began to reveal an inner experience of music otherwise hidden
from everyday view. This thesis reveals how participant voices began to emerge as a
song that reflected connections and rejections as they attempted to engage with music in
their lives.
Although they first caused surprise, some participant revelations began to open up
possibilities of moving towards emancipation from musical human action that had been
restricted in formal music education. Unexpected findings from participant data fulfilled
the criteria that, for new perceptions to truly emerge from observation, they must not
depend on prior expectations (Bhaskar, 1986, p. 104 Note 1a). Indeed, detailed
examination of words and meanings did have a positive effect for one participant. A
seventy-five year old retiree revealed his musicality through words and actions, but his
perception remained so fixed upon the notion that only ‗clever people sing and create‘
music that he retained a limited view of himself as a musical being. His joy was
palpable when, several weeks after his initial interview, he reported a change in
perception. Having reflected on his interview and subsequent discussions, he decided
that it was possible to see himself as a musical person after all; just one who had not
experienced an opportunity to learn the skills of playing or singing to a professional
standard. Societal persuasions, however, continued to hold their sway over most of the
21
participants‘ negative self-perceptions despite mounting understandings from
neurosience which substantiated the instinctive musicality of humans.
Chapter One (the present chapter) introduces the purpose and overview of the study. I
acknowledge the mystery of music, how it is an instinctive aspect of human kind yet
one that is viewed from so many different perspectives. From the beginning, I
considered that it was important to incorporate some understandings from participants‘
realities as I acknowledged the need to present the reader with data that could directly
evoke these individuals‘ musical experiences. In Chapter Two, I explore the dominance
of perceptions of giftedness in our society where an examination of educational
literature provides evidence of limited provision for music learning in schools. The joys
of the young child‘s musical responses are not sustained without a nurturing
environment so it is important to question why participants in this study revealed
negative self-perceptions. They were convinced that they were non-musical and
generally refrained from any public display of music making. The source of these
negative musical identities was often traced to music experienced in a ‗learning‘ context
where both classroom and private music experiences were found to affect participants‘
perceptions of their musicality.
Chapter Three outlines the methodological processes used, noting how this qualitative
study drew upon various paradigms as I established trustworthy and reliable procedures
to give voice to self-perceived non-musicians‘ realities. Driven by emergent
understandings from participant data, the methodology slowly evolved to cope with the
sheer quantity of information. The methodology was further adapted to embrace
philosophical issues raised by contradictions within participant data. I needed to develop
a way towards reporting details that would reveal emotional impact yet not swamp the
reader with prose. This occurred when I became aware of poetry embedded in the data;
it was the participants‘ own words that led me to the narrative, The ballad of the never
picked as the core of Chapter Four. Following these tales that introduce the participants
and establish details which confirm their non-musical perceptions, Chapter Five
explores the origins of their non-musical reality as we traced how they ended up being
left out of the musical ‗ballpark‘. One participant provoked my thinking as she
questioned commonly accepted views of music; memories of her childhood imagination
bring a story from the ‗bush‘ to spark new understandings about the nature of music.
Meg‘s reflections led me to consider participant narrative that did not resonate with
22
essential rhythms of The ballad of the never picked. As I worked on data from an ‗old‘
academic and a ‗young‘ university drop-out in Chapters Six and Seven, however, their
experiences unfold to present perceptions which have implications for our society. Rich
data from these two individuals became a catalyst towards theory as their experiences
demonstrated the unnecessary societal dichotomy that has developed which undermines
‗natural‘ human response. Their understandings are reflected through the works of
Habermas, Small and Bhaskar (amongst others) to develop theory. Chapter Eight
concludes with a brief conceptual summation. It is the experiences of participants
themselves that provide the essential substance in this study as they progress through
confusion and contradictions to finally ‗spiral‘ towards new understanding.
23
Chapter Two
Background
Music is more important than the tax.
(Vance, 75-year-old retired technician)
I am not musical at all. What might Lizzie‘s mother mean? How could an intelligent
young woman, educated in Western Australia, have ‗learned‘ that she was ‗not musical
at all‘? Could it be that, as Davidson and her colleagues (1997) noted, ‗[p]eople who did
not have a commitment to music were more likely to report negative, contextuallybased emotions [and that] [n]early all such negative emotions were generated in
learning situations in which some attempt to perform or respond to the music was
criticized by teachers‘ (1997, p.197). Small (1998) also contributed to a perception that
schools could be responsible when he referred to a ‗process of demusicalization‘ (p.
212). Such a process, he suggested, was dominated by a seeking out and testing for
students who were considered to have a potential to become professional musicians. He
argued (p. 212) that the music used in a school program often did not incite interest for
the students, yet they would be judged as being not musical because they did not show
interest or reveal proficiency in playing it. It still did not seem reasonable that Lizzie‘s
mother, an ‗otherwise intelligent and articulate‘ (Small, 1998, p. 212) woman should
feel that neither she nor her daughter were capable of socially acceptable musical action.
It became important to further my understandings of human musicality and to explore
the provision of music education.
Music education: an ‘extra’ for some
Even in the early stages of a literature review, it became clear that the non-musical selfview directing Lizzie‘s mother‘s actions did accurately reflect societal beliefs. Music
making in our society is perceived as specialist activity where only the initiates know
the secrets behind performances of worth; most people tend to think of musicians as a
unique minority with especially endowed biological attributes (Davies, 1978, p. 15).
This is where the ‗gifted‘ and ‗talented‘ labels come into play (Davidson et al., 1997, p.
189). Yet, while it is sensible to acknowledge that individual differences in musical
behaviour are an integral part of the human condition (Kemp, 1997, p. 11), when music
24
making is seen only through ‗gifted and talented‘ lens, there is a danger that we ignore
the effects that complex environmental realities have on human development (Davidson
et al., 1997, p. 189).
Some theorists have recognised negative aspects that undermine instinctive musical
response (Small, 1977, 1998). Bowman (2002), for instance, extended his philosophical
reflections to examine music education where he recognised the importance of the role
played by music educators‘ actual perceptions; he emphasised the extent to which their
knowing would impact on actual practice. He pointed to ‗impediments‘ that thwarted
musical knowing. In tracing the crucial differences between ‗education‘ and ‗training,‘
he spelt out the dangers of overemphasising technical facility and the unhealthy use of
music ‗to ends incompatible with education‘ (2002, p. 77). Bowman‘s thinking has
important implications for experiences reported by participants in my research; his
understanding could help address the kind of teaching practice that contributed to their
long lasting negative perceptions of their musicality and sense of self. Such a reality
was already noted by Davidson and her colleagues; they recorded the detrimental effects
of criticism in students‘ music making or music understanding that could lead to long
term negative attitudes regarding involvement in music (1997, p. 197). Teachers‘ own
perceptions, of what music is and how it needs to be taught, were seen to impact on
their teaching methods and to affect students accordingly. Participants who ‗learned‘
that they were ‗not musical‘ were seen to be reacting to the ‗myth‘ (Sloboda et al,
1994a), often initiated by the ‗educational‘ practice of music teachers themselves, where
musicality was seen as a talent or gift that only some individuals could inherit.
In their judgment of a perceived lack of necessary musical talent, particular teachers
might argue that they would be acting with sensible restraint to discourage such
‗untalented‘ students from engaging in music learning (Dunne, 2003, pp. 359-360). To
emphasise this, Dunne (2003) cites a ‗wicked‘ example from the work of MacIntyre,
where there is a simultaneous revealing of a separatist disposition regarding human
musicality together with a disconnection from his own musical self. In a consideration
of what constituted a good teacher, MacIntyre displayed a Western separatist divide
when he proclaimed that ‗there are kinds of teaching—the teaching of piano or violin,
for example—in which the ruthless exclusion of the talentless from further teaching (a
mercy to the student as well as to the teacher and to any innocent bystanders) is one of
25
the marks of a good teacher and in which the abilities to identify the talentless and to
exclude them are among her or his virtues‘ (Dunne, 2003, pp, 359- 360).
While MacIntyre might perceive his intentionally ‗amusing‘ example as ‗properly
parsimonious‘, Dunne condemned his view as ‗impoverished‘ (2003, p. 360). Such
narrow perceptions of learning were also decried by Small who argued that, when based
upon true values, education would not be ‗a preparation for life but a basic experience
of life itself‘ (Small, 1977, p. 211). Since music is considered to be a part of our neural
make-up, ‗a form of intelligence‘ (Gardner, 1999, p. 10), the gradual transformation of
music-making into a product (that can only be made by a professional) effectively
destroys the potential for many non-musicians to acknowledge their instinctive
musicality; ‗the musicality of the ordinary person‘ (Small 1977, p. 163).
To access music learning in Western Australia, students need the good fortune to be in a
school that offers a comprehensive music program, to ‗win‘ a place in a school
instrumental program (by competing against other students in a musical aptitude test),
and have supportive parents. They also require determination to persevere in a learning
that demands dedication and time. Their situation does not differ so much from students
in the United States where both non-participants and drop-outs from a music program
indicated that the time needed for participation precluded their involvement (Frakes,
1985, p. 91). Indeed, several participants in my study reported that their decisions to
concentrate on particular studies, that would enhance employment opportunities, meant
that they could afford neither the time nor expense needed to pursue their music
interests. Yet, recent research provides evidence that engagement in music not only
allows individuals to express vitality and emotional aspects of their lives, but that it also
enhances general learning (Smith, 2003, p. 277). In his work with indigenous boys in
Northern Australia, Smith recognised the value of music across the entire curriculum,
particularly in cases where students were ‗distanced from the educational process‘ (p.
277). His work revealed the effectiveness of music as it brought its intrinsic vibrancy
into the learning environment and positively affected the students‘ work in other areas
of their curriculum.
Music education towards self-knowing?
That the inclusion of appropriate musical engagement should lead to positive change
makes sense when music is understood as something that humans do (Small 1998, p. 2);
26
something that is as normal an activity for us as is breathing. Arguments for the
inclusion of music in the curriculum make more sense and become compelling when
viewed through the reflective lens of Bowman (2002, p. 77) where he recognises the
potential of music education to embrace body and mind (as one) in a learning that leads
towards whole self-knowing. Since musical education experience can lead to deeper
human knowing, given appropriate learning conditions (Bowman, 2002, pp. 75-76), it is
important to challenge widespread denial of such experiences that deprive students from
essential educational provision with its potential for the nurturing of spiritual and social
awareness.
It is, however, common practice in Western Australia for students to gain access to a
place in music programs through success in ability tests, despite this practice being
questioned by experienced researchers (Sloboda, 1985, p. 238). Indeed, it is valuable to
revisit the work of Farnsworth (1969) where his reflections reveal an understanding that
‗the relative potencies of nature and nurture in creating a musician are unanswerable‘ (p.
156). As an experienced researcher Sloboda (1985) delivered well-considered cautions
about the use of ability testing because deficiencies were seen to lead to unfortunate
decisions; in Sloboda‘s view, it would be ‗foolish and possibly unfair to make major
educational decisions on test scores alone‘ (p. 238). O‘Neill (1997) also revealed her
concern about such a selection process to decide which children would receive an
opportunity to learn an instrument at school; she noted that this practice resulted in
particular children being ‗denied the opportunity‘ (p.49) to do something which
enhanced verification of identity (O‘Toole, 2000, p. 28).
Bowman (2002, p. 63) claimed that ‗music education is the means to ends that are
specifically musical‘. However, I would argue that at this stage in our philosophical
understanding, this can be regarded as an assertion only: an assertion from a musician‘s
perspective. Where readers are not capable of conceptualising his profound
understanding of music and of music education, I believe that Bowman‘s claim leaves
him vulnerable to a danger of being accused of promoting a form of musical
involvement that is ‗the concern of experts‘ (as Habermas argued in relation to ‗art,‘
1997, p. 45). Nevertheless, it is important to heed Bowman‘s warning that, where music
education occurs without informed and insightful practitioners, the process can lead to a
distancing from holistic educational practice. While his deep perceptions importantly
cut through eons of accepted expert ‗charismatic but dogmatic‘ music leadership and
27
offer crucial insights towards informed music education, I would suggest that his claims
for educational ‗openness, inquisitiveness‘ (2002, p. 77) could also be nurtured through
human knowings other than music.
Small (1977), on the other hand, perceived that we are ‗part of nature [as our]
intelligence partakes of and relies on the intelligence that pervades the entire natural
world‘ and that it is through the vibrancy of our cultural reality that we ‗maintain the
vital contact with this intelligence‘ (p. 225). Cultural and educational practices in our
particular Western societal variant that had affected individuals participating in my
research, however, reduce access to music engagement for many. Indeed, several
participants referred to the musical progress of those ‗clever‘ and ‗talented‘ people who
could make and understand music while they were excluding themselves from being
active music makers. Most of the participant cohort in this study felt constricted
regarding potential musical responses; their perceived lack of innate talent and musical
‗training‘ caused them to be fearful about responding to music in public. These
individuals talked of music making as something that was carried out by ‗gifted‘ others
who would make products that they could purchase. Several individuals who considered
themselves to be ‗musical‘ suggested that the proof of this position was in their
informed purchasing of particular CDs and DVDs.
However, as Lines (2005a) observed, when music was reduced to being a mere object
for human consumption, it lost its extraordinary capacity to effect change (p. 220). For
many individuals in this study of 29 self-perceived non-musicians, the view of music as
object did limit (and, at least in one case, denied) access to genuine musical experience.
Following brief attempts at learning instruments, several participants perceived
themselves to be ‗not musical‘ and considered that their musical efforts were evidence
of failure. Hallam (2006) recognised that such experiences had a negative impact on
motivation (p. 103) when she warned that it was important to consider how students
were selected for music learning.
Participant experiences in this study also revealed the importance of their own
aspirations compared to the goals of their tutors. Rather than instrumental teachers
working with (Lines, 2005c, p. 66) learners or engaging in (Smith, 2004) music making,
these cases revealed situations where the overriding aim of instruction was that the
students became proficient in performance; where the important thing was to be able to
28
produce ‗results‘ that could be ‗judged‘. So, instead of becoming involved in actions
that engaged and challenged, in their attempts to become successful performers these
participants became ‗failures‘. One participant who felt that he lacked musical potential
because he could not immediately succeed in playing his instrument, used words that
express a common experience; it was his ‗disappointment [that] the results were not as
attractive [as he] might‘ve wished‘ that caused him to ‗learn‘ that he was not musical.
Given that performed music has meaning only when it demonstrates cultural relevance
(Walker, 2005, p. 15), it is important that private music teaching and music education in
schools should seek to provide music learning experiences that are embedded in the real
lives of their students. In her argument that our education practice emanates mainly
from ‗white and middle class‘ traditional western music background, it is sensible to
heed O'Toole‘s (2000, p. 31) suggestion that it was not possible to accept that such
educational provision is appropriate for all students. Further, in focusing on music as
product, participants‘ teachers missed the essential aspect where
…the sounds of music can only have meaning within a social group and its
culture, and sociocultural practices determine both the type and the source of
musical sounds as well as their meaning. There can be no such thing as an
autonomous, i.e. culturally independent musical sound to be perceived purely for
its acoustic properties. There are clear implications for music education (Walker,
2005, p. 15).
Students attending school live in a physical, social, and intellectual world where they
move, interact, learn and grow. It is important that, if ‗schooling‘ is to be justified, then
the school environment needs to be a place that enables ‗teachers and students to
interact as whole persons‘ (Noddings, 2005). Yet, despite growing evidence that music
is an important aspect of human culture (Tramo, 2001, p. 54; Blacking, 1976, p. 9), only
a select few have access to social development and emotional expression enhanced
through active involvement in music. It is important, then, to consider current work by
music educators (Smith, 2004) that continues to show the powerful effect that music can
have on young people, researchers effectively demonstrate how music can act as a
powerful catalyst for students to focus and connect with both music and fellow students.
Indeed, the boys in the ‗Boys Business‘ program were not merely learning about music
as they engaged in (Smith's italics) singing and other music activities, but as they noisily
and energetically were allowed to safely be boys (my italics), their immersion in ‗fun‘
was affirming of their value as human beings (Smith, 2004, pp. 232, 233) as it led to
‗measurable positive change in the cultures of…the schools‘ (p. 234). Such programs
29
could help redress the ‗unhappiness‘ where punitive ‗compartmentalised‘ learning in
schools undermined ‗happiness‘ and ‗holistic‘ development (Noddings, 2005).
Education in Western Australia, however, as one document (EDWA, 2005) reveals,
continues to maintain a focus on the perceived need to prepare individuals towards
economic vocational ends.
A frill in the curriculum?
Listening to participants‘ life experiences led me to ask what is it that has caused us to
become mere spectators in activities that are arguably essential for human well being. In
her work on musical ability, Shuter-Dyson (1999, p. 628) observed that many of us do
not become actively involved in music-making because we believed that we did not
have innate ability to become exceptional performers. Causes for this self-elimination
from active engagement in activities (unless we consider that we have potential to
become experts) lie in what Habermas (1981/1997) described as an undermining of our
culture by an unbalanced process of development. His thesis revealed that undue
emphasis on rationalism and economic factors subverted our society and left us with
false separations in activities essential for human living. Marginalisation of music in the
school curriculum demonstrates this one-sidedness of our education as music, a
‗subject‘ not obviously concerned with vocational education, ‗is often…treated as an
optional extra‘ (Peters, 2005, p. 1). Several participants in my study recognised this
reality as they sought music learning in vain. One noted that the inclusion of music
education in the curriculum was as a frill to ‗more important subjects‘ and that it was
dependent on whether particular classroom teachers had the skill to include it in their
daily work; this perception is supported by Egan (1957, Preface), Dower (1992, p. 1)
and Temmerman (2006, p. 274).
Negative musical identity
An English study found that children‘s views of their musicality varied; they did not all
perceive themselves to be musical (Lamont, 2001, p. 2). Lamont‘s work, which
included data from almost 2,000 children, led her to believe that a ‗negative musical
identity‘ is more likely to occur as the individual becomes older and that it can be a
direct result of music experienced in the school context. Her work with infants and
children in England has caused her to believe that the classing of the self as unmusical
because of lack of technical skill on an instrument was a ‗peculiarly western construct‘
(Mitchell, 2002). In my study, both school and private music learning were found to
30
affect participants‘ perceptions of their musicality. Further, such learning was seen to be
embedded so ‗successfully‘ that it threatened to perpetuate negative musical perceptions
onto following generations as was the case with Lizzie and her mother.
This view seems to be confirmed by a migrant participant who arrived in Australia as a
child. It was after she had learned music formally in Australia that she began to feel that
she was not ‗musical.‘ Her singing lessons ‗taught‘ her that she was not a potential
performer and she became very nervous about singing in public after taking part in a
number of eisteddfod performances. From enjoying her music and feeling that she was a
competent singer, her perceptions of what it was to be musical had been changed; she
had learned to believe that she had inferior music abilities.
Seashore(1938) legitimised a musical/unmusical Western binary in his influential
Psychology of Music with his claim that ‗[it] has long been recognized that some
children are musical and others are not musical‘ (p. 290). As early as 1958, however,
Farnsworth challenged this emphasis on the dominance of ‗talent‘ in regard to the
acquisition of musical abilities and he stressed the importance of both ‗nature and
nurture‘ (1958, p. 179). In her research on Music as cognition Serafine‘s (1988) work
also showed that essential music learning did not require any special ‗gift‘ but that it
occurred in the same way that human beings acquire language and basic mathematical
understandings (p. 234). With her understanding that music learning followed learning
developmental processes similar to those used in the acquisition of other human traits
(p. 5), Serafine questioned ‗expert‘ views that failed to demonstrate an appropriate
means of either precisely defining or of quantifying the ‗musicality‘ that was being
measured (p. 10). Her research cast doubt on the belief that only some people are born
‗musical‘ and that music is an innate ‗talent.‘ Her credible research indicates that
musicality is something that results from normal cognitive development in a musical
environment.
Despite the on-going educational (Swanwick, 1999), neurological (Tramo, 2001),
psychological (Sloboda, 1996) and philosophical (Bowman, 2002) research which
verifies human musicality, attitudes from ‗experts‘ continue to undermine a general
acceptance that most humans are musical beings. From his position as a widely
published psychiatrist, for instance, Storr (1992) exerts an influence on societal beliefs
when he writes that ‗the unmusical person, as one would expect, is less physiologically
31
aroused than the musical person‘ (p.29). While such a judgement is seen to be
questionable in the light of recent research, it supports the Western assumption of a
musical/unmusical divide. Indeed, Cook (1994) questions the way that psychological
criteria has been used in attempts to understand human response to music (p. 65) and
suggests that music response is something primeval; something potentially experienced
by all humans (1990, p.165). Recent work supports his view. Important neurological
and biological research point towards essential human musicality (Gray et al, 2001;
Tramo, 2001) where our development as musicers (Elliott, 1995) is seen to depend on a
combination of a ‗bit of nature, a bit of nurture, like everything else‘ (Zatorre, in
Abbott, 2002, p. 14). One current project (Peretz, 2002; 2005), researching a small
number of humans who appeared to lack musical intelligence, did indicate that there
were some individuals who lacked essential musicality, but for the self-perceived nonmusicians in my study, the common practice of labelling individuals as ‗musical‘ or
‗unmusical‘ was seen to be inappropriate and unhelpful for the development of the
person.
Clues to a possible source of self-perceived ‗non-musical‘ participants‘ distanced
attitude to music are to be found within historical curriculum documents for music as a
‗school subject‘ in Western Australia. In the 1898 Government Gazette, (p. 517) the
emphasis on music in school was placed on the preparation of specified songs that were
to be examined by the ‗Inspector‘. With the publication of the ‗new curriculum‘ (1936,
p. 7) ― which was in use when two key participants were in primary school ― there
was an acknowledgement that ‗music today has a greater value than hitherto because its
effect on the physical, mental and spiritual life of the child is now more clearly
recognized‘ (p. 249). This ‗new value‘ led to a curriculum where music learning sought
not only to ‗give children the ability to sing well [but also] to cultivate taste‘ (p. 249).
The aims of the revised primary curriculum, published in 1955 were similar; however,
in addition to singing and notation, it included the use of percussion bands, bamboo
pipes and recorders (pp. 28-31). I found it difficult to imagine an inexperienced teacher
in a small country school supervising the making of a bamboo pipe and helping the
child to shape and tune it so that it could give ‗him the joy of producing his own music
on his own instrument‘ (1955, p. 29). It was, perhaps, even more improbable that these
pipes would ‗offer music to the child who does not possess a good singing voice…and
foster the love of good music‘ (1955, p. 30). Even as late as the curriculum document of
1982, reasons given for including music in the school program include the facts that
32
‗Children need to learn to listen [and they] need to learn to perform‘ (p. 4). Yet, given a
nurturing environment, children naturally listen, perform and make up their own songs
and stories. With these perceptions, the curriculum writers reveal an assumption that the
teachers need to ‗teach‘ these responses; there is little recognition that important
musical learning has already occurred before a child starts school (Trehub, 2006, p. 43)
and that the important task is to ‗sustain the joy of music and the musical creativity that
are so clearly evident in the months or years that precede formal instruction‘ (p. 44).
In his emphasis on the importance of background to facilitate development of musical
skills, Welch (2005, pp. 117-118) condemns those who negatively judge attempts to
sing. His work shows that children who experienced little music at home and had not
been encouraged in their early vocalizations would probably begin school ‗as less
developed singers [who would be] more liable to be labelled as ‗unmusical‘ by
insensitive and ill-informed adults‘ (Welch, 2005, p. 118). Current research in musical
development of young children (Trehub, 2006) emphasises the crucial part played by
the home environment. Where very young children are concerned, Trehub (2006, p. 44)
cautions against their early musical ‗training‘ and recommends a supportive
environment where children are allowed freedom to respond and where their expressive
actions receive encouragement. Trehub is careful to point out the danger of attributing
apparent lack of musical potential to ‗perceptual origins‘ (2006, p. 44) and notes that
apparent deficiencies that might seem to indicate a lack of potential to do music are
generally due to normal development in an environment where there is little
encouragement for musical responses. Russel‘s (2001) research in Fiji, where the
widespread belief was that everyone was born to sing, supports the understanding that
‗singing ability is more than a biological gift: it is a human behaviour that develops
under favourable socio-cultural conditions‘ (p. 3). This perception was shared by neither
the participant cohort of this study, nor the writers of the curricula upon which their
school experiences were based.
Tension between curricula aspiration and provision
Unrealistic expectations were a feature of both aims and curriculum content details for
Western Australian schools (Education Department Western Australia, 1955). The
‗Infants‘ class, for example, commenced their singing training with ‗play-way‘
33
exercises (Egan, 1957, p. 107)4 pitched in a descending pattern down from E-flat on the
top space of the treble staff. It was not surprising that very few children arrived at
school able to sing such high pitches with accuracy (Trehub, 2006, p. 43). Egan advised
that children who had not yet learned to ‗carry-a-tune‘ (1957, p. 103) needed to be
‗taught to sing‘ (p. 113), and proposed a method for grading out ‗select‘ children to be
the ‗Choir‘ while the ‗others‘ became the ‗Listeners‘ (p. 112) The recommended
‗treatment‘ of ‗others,‘ called ‗the monotones‘ was that they listened and kept the beat;
they ‗were allowed to do everything but sing‘ while the ‗Choir‘ learned the song. These
‗listeners‘ would then have their turn as they became ‗the focal centre during the
Monotone Drill‘ where they stood at the front of the class to echo the teacher and the
‗Choir‘ (Egan, 1957, p. 114).
For the older members of the participant cohort, the curriculum written as a guide for
teaching practice in Western Australia (1936) placed the responsibility for effective
education directly upon the teacher in the classroom (p. 6). It did acknowledge the value
of music as a ‗school subject‘ (p. 249) and emphasised that ‗school is not merely a
preparation for life, but that it is life itself‘ (p. 4). Yet, the attempt to ensure that its aim
to develop and cultivate a taste for the beautiful and an appreciation for some of the
greatest art forms‘ was undermined by the advocated practice. To acquire the
recommended ‗technical skill in the reading of music‘ teachers were referred to the
‗Education Circular‘ (p. 250), and to Music in Schools (Egan, 1957) where specific
directions were given for learning pitch, rhythmic and music reading. While the
recommendation of myriad drills was supposed to ensure the development of skills
necessary for pitch accuracy and music reading, Egan did note in the preface that
‗unless a teacher was musically gifted, or at least enthusiastic about music, it quite
frequently managed to slip out of the time-table altogether‘. Indeed, to deliver specified
content of the 1936 Curriculum so that the students could learn with any sort of
enjoyment would have required a teacher who had an extensive musical background or
a history of intuitive music making; participant experiences indicated that they were not
in a class that enjoyed such a teacher.
4
Music in Schools (Egan, 1957) was written as a ‗manual‘ (Preface) to accompany the revised 1955
curriculum. The copy I located was possibly a reprint edition; no details of an original edition were
available.
34
While there is recognition in the current curriculum framework for Western Australia
(Curriculum Council, 1998, p. 33) that situated practice is essential for students‘
potential learning, many teachers still do not feel confident to engage in music teaching
in their classrooms (Russell-Bowie, 1997, p. 358). There is an acknowledgement in the
curriculum guidelines that ‗Students can only learn to do what they have the opportunity
to encounter, do or see done‘ (Curriculum Council, 1998, p. 33) yet it has taken
initiatives from the private sector to provide materials that can help teachers to become
confident in dealing with practical issues of music teaching (Dower, 1992, p. 1). Dower
(p. 1) noted the underlying anxiety of many classroom teachers where ‗fear and
trepidation‘ meant that they omitted the music lesson. He recognised that teachers were
afraid to embrace music in their practice because of their lack of theoretical
understanding.
Rogers (2005) also recognised similar challenges of music teaching in Britain as he
pointed to two particular problems regarding provision of effective music learning in
schools. Firstly, there was a lack of music experiences in teacher education courses so
that only 2% (p. 10) of neophyte teachers graduated with some background for teaching
music in their classrooms and secondly, that there was a lack of sufficient professional
development (p. 11).
Notwithstanding the acknowledgement that music, as part of the ‗arts develop[s]
students‘ sense of personal and cultural identity‘ (Curriculum Council, 1998, p. 49),
music educators need to develop practical survival mechanisms if they are to thrive
within a political system that requires informed lobbying if it is to provide for the arts in
education. Educational funding is principally directed towards what are considered to be
the core subjects, that is, those studies leading to efficiency in mathematics and literacy.
A danger that lies in the provision of an ‗education‘ that focuses only on the
development of skills that are prerequisites for vocational training is that it could leave
the learner vulnerable to manipulation by incumbent political power-brokers. In a recent
Western Australian ‗initiative‘ (EDWA, 2005), ‗arts in education‘ is recognized as an
important means to provide the State with creative thinkers who could benefit the
economy. In referring to ‗the activities of the states major cultural institutions‘ this
document refers to the Art gallery of Western Australia, the State Library of Western
Australia, the Western Australian Museum and the State Records Office‘ (p. 5) Music
or dance do not get a mention. Despite the recognised value of music learning and
35
music making in primary education, when it comes to policy decisions, music does not
rate as an essential subject. With our system only providing a substantial background in
music experiences for some children, and where teacher education establishments
continue to tolerate a minimal music component, many teachers will continue to feel
that they lack basic musical skills that would enable them to include music in their
everyday practice (Russell-Bowie, 1997, p. 358).
Music in the Curriculum
While the Government Gazette of 1898 set out the teaching guidelines under the
heading of ‗Music‘ (p. 517), the requirements for examination specifically related to
singing, simple rhythmic patterns and sol-fa notation. Music was not mentioned in the
‗Standards of Examination…Elementary Education Act 1871‘ (Mossenson, 1972, p. 5253) but was specifically named as a curriculum ‗subject‘ from 1898 (Government
Gazette, Feb 26, 1898) onwards until, with the publication of the Curriculum
Framework for Kindergarten to Year 12 Education in Western Australia (1998), it was
subsumed as a learning area of ‗The Arts‘. The recent comprehensive National Review
of school music education (Australian Government National Review, 2005) reports that
‗music in schools has been diminished - there has been decreased systemic and school
attention to music; music suffered a loss of identity and status‘ (p. 28); and this situation
is reflected in the younger participants‘ experiences in my study; these individuals
experienced minimal music learning as part of their school programs. Yet, one of the
unique attributes of the musical experience is that it encompasses the complex whole of
our being to engage both mind and sense responses. This, as Jorgensen points out, has
important implications for education (1991, p. 16) where music involvement can help
teachers to develop ‗beliefs, values , and skills that enable [them] to make judgments‘
(p. 20), whereby they are able to be reflective, critical thinkers who can contribute to
education as more than mere technicians (Jorgensen, 1997, p. 92). However, this
becomes a problem for teachers when they feel that they lack essential musical skills
and understanding.
Our educational reality reflects the situation in the United States where many Americans
place little value on the arts and teachers hesitate to include music in their practice
because they feel that they are not ‗licensed‘ to offer music to their students (Cornett,
2003, p. 335). Classroom teachers in Western Australia, like their American
counterparts, frequently rely on the specialist music teacher; this is the expert who
36
knows about music and can offer a proper music education. Cornett notes that it is this
situation that leads to a perception that music learning is something only for the talented
(2003, p. 335). Such exclusive thinking contrasts with developmental music learning
programs developed from the insightful work of Dalcroze, Kodaly and Orff. These
unique musicians became aware that music education as it existed at the beginning of
the twentieth century was inadequate, even for those who attended the music academies,
and they proceeded to develop effective developmental programs designed to be
appropriate for everyone. Their work came from disparate cultural backgrounds;
Dalcroze‘s work was associated with eurhythmics, Kodaly with singing and the folksong, and programs based on the philosophy developed by Orff were centred on speech
patterns and ensemble music making, yet their systems all recognised the need for
learning to proceed from students‘ current musical awareness then to develop
incrementally (Choksy, 1974; Szonyi, 1973; Dalcroze, 1921).
Making good use of music programs developed by educators working with the
philosophies of Kodaly and Orff, the official music curriculum document (Curriculum
Branch, 1982) in use for the younger participants of this study begins with the statement
that:
Music is for everyone. It is not the exclusive province of the talented or rich; it
belongs to all members of society. To deny children the opportunity of joyfully
participating in music is to deny them part of their growth in artistic and self
expression. Worse still, it continues the myth that music is an obscure, mystical and
irrelevant subject intended only for gifted people. (p. 3)
Reasons given for including music in the school program include:
Children need to learn to listen
Children need to learn to perform
Children need to have the opportunity to compose (p. 4).
Yet, when living in an environment which embraces music as normal human action,
children naturally listen, perform and compose (Trehub, 2006, p. 44). For those who
have the opportunity, then, music can be part of their lives and can help them to cope
with its many challenges. However, the self-perceived non-musical participants of this
study did not have the opportunity to experience music programs because their
particular schools were amongst the approximately 10% of schools throughout Australia
which do not offer music programs (Australian Government Department of Education,
2005, p. 27). The National Review (2005, p. 27) also indicated that the quality of music
education provided by the remaining 90% is variable at the very least.
37
A road to questions
My first major challenge towards addressing the complexity of participants‘ experiences
was to design a research project that could reflect a reality lived by self-perceived nonmusician individuals within our Western Australian society. As I began pilot interviews
it became apparent that Lizzie‘s mother, who assumed that hers was ‗not a musical
family‘, was not a unique case. Assumptions of being not musical were embedded in the
self-views of the initial ‗conversational partners‘ (Rubin & Rubin, 1995). From the first
interview I heard the denial of any potential for active musical engagement when a
potential participant raised her voice: ‗Me sing? I have no voice to sing, I would love to
be able to sing!‘ Then, in a second conversation, an emphasis was firmly placed on the
perception that musicians were exceptionally ‗clever‘. It was clear that this individual
believed that playing or singing required particular skill and understanding so that only
particular people could do music. This perception was echoed when another prospective
interviewee delivered her idiosyncratic view of what would happen if a non-musician
like her might attempt to sing in public:
If you go to the pubs say or you go out to a restaurant and you get up and start
singing, people would look at you like…which mental institution has she just
gotten out of?
All of this appeared to be strange. The individual who had claimed that she could not
sing sang ‗Happy Birthday‘ just a few months before this interview; I enjoyed her
singing. What might cause someone to believe that people have to be clever to sing or
play and that it was only acceptable for trained musicians to sing in public? Sloboda
(1996) notes the mysterious lack of involvement of people with actual music
performance. This strangeness multiplies when we consider that music is heard
everywhere, is part of everyday living and integral to important occasions. My puzzle
continued to grow as I checked new data from neurological research (Altenműller,
2004, pp. 31-31) that revealed how changes occurred in the human brain as individuals
responded to music; so humans, instinctively musical beings, learn to do music as they
experience it. Research continued to indicate that it was our own perceptions about our
abilities that determined how we approach learning (Asmus et al., 1990, p. 259); my
questions about musical self-perception and music involvement continued to grow.
Humans and Music
Human musicality is not only a social construct (Cross & Morely, 2002; Peretz 2005)
nor is it merely an instinctive (Peretz, 2005, p. 104) aspect of our species. Music exists
38
in all cultures and ‗all persons have knowledge of it to a considerable degree‘ (Serafine,
1988, p. 1). Our perception does not wholly rely upon musical training and similar
music cognition occurs in individuals who have experienced instrumental learning and
those who have not (Serafine, 1988, p. 234). With this ubiquitous phenomenon so
central to all human cultures, some scholars even argue that it is necessary for our
survival (Small 1998, p. 210; Cross & Morely, 2002). Indeed, recent research in
neuroscience and genetics acknowledges a genetic contribution to music and dance
potentialities; this is significant to this research as it also recognises the importance of
environmental opportunity to develop particular skills (Bachner-Melman et al., 2005).
While participant perceptions in this study highlighted an intrinsic appreciation of
human musicality, they simultaneously revealed a distancing from a sense of freedom to
be musical. With recent studies demonstrating that human beings are neurologically
‗hard-wired‘ to be musical (Gray, Krause et al. 2001; Peretz 2005, p. 104), it was
important to explore why, in our Anglo-Western society, these individuals were
dominated by a belief that only a minority are born musical (Sloboda et al. 1994, p. 349;
Sloboda 1996, pp. 197-108). This widespread conviction that only some people are
musical continues to dominate everyday living despite a general lack of understanding
about what musical ability actually means (O‘Neill, 1997, p. 49). Although research is
beginning to prove that music learning opportunities are essential if musical skills are to
develop (Sloboda, 1996, p. 108), it is not helpful when even experts in the field disagree
in their consideration of what we mean when we talk about musicality (Serafine, 1988,
p. 10).
I argue that it is our lack of knowing that contributes to the confusion surrounding the
action of music making. While we consider that it is ‗normal‘ for everyone to learn
language and mathematics, we often encourage only those who we perceive to be
‗musical‘ to pursue music learning. Since development of musical skills (like reading or
mathematics) is dependent upon a nurturing environment, this leaves us with an
unanswered riddle. Every young human is intrinsically musical but only some are born
with a gift to be musical and while some educators appear to accept that ‗both genes and
environment contribute to musical ability, as they contribute to everything else‘
(Davies, 1994, p. 356) musical learning opportunities are limited to the fortunate few.
39
During this research, poignant examples emerged to uncover conflicts between essential
human musicality and perceptions of being ‗not musical‘. Such convictions appeared to
also clash with findings from studies carried out by Peretz (2005, pp. 103-104) where
she recognises the instinctive musical response of humans, one that is rooted in our
evolutionary development. Her work examines a small minority of individuals who
suffer music perception impairment due to problems with their neural ‗circuitry‘. These
few individuals are exceptions; Peretz emphasises the ‗universal appeal‘ of music and
suggests that music ‗might be better conceived as an adaptive response of the organism‘
(p. 104) so, as I explored views of musicality and perceptions experienced by selfperceived non-musicians, I should have expected to find that most of them did consider
themselves to be ‗musical‘ beings. With only nine individuals out of a cohort of 29
perceiving themselves to be musical, questions arising from the data of the 20
individuals who saw themselves as being non-musical drove this research.
Towards hearing non-musicians’ voices
Following the instance where Lizzie‘s mother accepted her unmusical state and
expressed doubts that her child would be able to sing or play, I noted similar examples
where behaviour was dictated by similar assumptions. These occurred both in work and
in social situations. These instances, together with my own experiences of young
students and parents, convinced me that there was an issue to be addressed. First,
however, it was important that I set aside my own assumptions and prejudice. It was
crucial that I recognised how I was inescapably clothed in my own subjectivity (‗like a
garment that cannot be removed‘ (Peshkin, 1988, p.17). A major challenge was to allow
individual stories to speak for themselves (Peshkin, 1988; 2000, Walsh, 1999) and to
give participant voices a chance to reveal in what ways their perceptions might or might
not affect their self-views or impact on their actions.
Yet, participant views would be deeply situated in their own experiences such that any
attempt to represent their stories necessarily involved interpretations by me. In a
determination to present stories as perceived by the respondents, I planned to take my
interpretations back to the original narrator. In this way, the interpretations would be a
vibrant part of an iterative process, not merely 'interpretations of interpretations'
(Levering, 2006). It was important that participant stories did not become submerged
beneath my ‗analysis and theorizing‘; I was aware of the need to provide the reader with
the opportunity to recognise considerations arising from data alongside data events
40
themselves. As I worked towards an appropriate research methodology I also began to
seek out individuals with diverse backgrounds whose personal experiences could
provide insights into non-musicians‘ reality.
Towards Method: A road most cluttered
Pilot interviewees5 delivered valuable insights that became important data towards
understanding the reality of self-perceived non-musicians. Their perceptions also
delivered surprising negative self-views regarding musicality. I suspected that these six
individuals might represent a skewed sample of informants so determined to seek
further conversational partners who might provide a wider spectrum of views. Indeed,
these initial informants revealed that, for them, music was something performed by
talented professionals. Their main assumptions were that public music making was the
domain of the professional and that they were not gifted enough to aspire to making
their own music. In four out of the six cases, it was a failure in early attempts to learn an
instrument (guitar/voice, trumpet, voice and piano/voice) that led the person to have
feelings of not being musical. Many disparate ideas and understandings emerged from
these initial conversation partners yet the main emphasis was coloured by the
phenomenon of music as ‗performance‘. Participants‘ stories told of a dominance of
self-judgement directed by a belief that talent was a prerequisite to be able to sing or
play. However, music was valued by these self-perceived non-musical non-musicians
for the important ways that it enabled emotional expression and defined (in the words of
one pilot interviewee) ‗understandings [as it] was a way of carving out a whole identity
[and] forming of identity‘.
I was overwhelmed by interviewee experiences; they raised so many questions. What
was it about music that led individuals to know themselves more clearly, to feel
accepted as part of a group? How could it be that music was something that all children
‗did‘ and yet they ‗learned‘ that they were not musical and so refrained from singing or
playing? Questions kept coming. It was time to plan a disciplined research project.
5
See Appendix A.
41
Chapter Three
Methodology
But the only way someone can point to what one generally does is to point to what
particular people do in particular circumstances
(Llewelyn, 1986, p. 107)
This investigation began with a deceptively simple quest to find what might cause a
vibrant young mother to believe that she was not musical. It was her consequent
suspicion that her daughter was probably not musical either that drew me into a long
search. The study commenced as a qualitative/quantitative design based on pilot
interviews, questionnaire and half a dozen case studies; it began to unfold into layers of
data and methodological detail. Unexpected revelations from participant conversations
exposed the inadequacy of the original intended research design. It became necessary to
adapt the research to include a narrative core where iterative interpretations were
allowed to become vibrant sources of understanding, not just ‗interpretations of
interpretations‘ (Levering, 2006). On-going interactions between researcher and
researched became focussed on the central puzzle: how could it be that members of a
musical species would take on and act out a non-musical role?
As I worked to make some sense of the masses of emerging data, it became important to
find a way to allow the voices of the participants speak for themselves; to provide a
transparent means for the individuals concerned to voice their experiences (Clandinin et.
al., 2000). With researcher journal entries recording changes in perceptions of both
myself and the participants, I began to realise that my own views were becoming
enmeshed with those of the participants (Clandinin et. al., 2000, p. 20). Words and
impressions continued to gather in a confusing cloud of experiences and thoughts. It
was in the revisiting of transcriptions that a story with its own meaning (Carter, 1993, p.
6) began to emerge. I began to hear an authentic musicality ring through stories about
not being picked, about the exhilaration of motor bike riding; about having no interest in
42
music yet bursting with pride to tell of a son‘s singing. It became clear that these voices
had a tale to tell; a composite tale of connection and disconnection.
Narrative reporting provided a way for the unfolding story of participant musicality; raw
data were used in the construction of a ballad that would tell a tale of desire to make
music, one that was thwarted by individuals learning that they were not-musical, one
where individuals found that they were not to be active music makers. ‗Music‘ became
the teller of the tale as participants‘ words revealed inner rhythms that proved they were
musical after all. It is the music in the ballad that carries the stories to tell the disparate
experiences of the participants.
Background
This research study acknowledges and is indebted to the analysis of specific instances of
participant response, listening, observation and reflection. Analysis of data facilitated
developing thought processes and reflections that led to subsequent emergence of
theory. Initial pilot interviews revealed participants‘ views and led me to the central
question for this study: How can it be that musical beings feel that they are not musical?
Twenty-nine interviewees granted detailed interviews. These were followed by
extensive iterative contact with six key participants who provided further insights to
reveal a world where negative influences caused individuals to perceive themselves as
being not musical. Twenty of these self-perceived non-musicians revealed that they had
experienced minimal early developmental music learning, and this research captured
their perceived reality as one where they were caught in a ‗non-musical‘ loop.
In response to participant data, key research questions were devised to direct emerging
research design:

What is understood by the term musical?

To what extent does the musical label impact upon the decision of an individual to
become involved in music?

To what extent do participants‘ understanding of musical affect their support of
other people‘s involvement in music?
Most participants believed that, to be considered musical, an individual needed to be
able to sing, play a musical instrument or to have particular musical knowledge. Fear of
43
being judged ‗stupid‘ prevented many of them from attempting to learn and led them to
refrain from singing where someone else might hear them. Dominance of the ‗talent
account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) together with a limited provision for doing music at school
meant that many self-perceived non-musicians did not have an opportunity to
experience developmental music learning. While most participants depended on the
school system to provide music-learning opportunities, two individuals challenged their
own non-musical status to make a deliberate effort to ensure that their children were
given a chance to learn music.
Iterative contact with key participants through interviews, email and telephone contact,
allowed deeper understandings to unfold. Detailed analysis and reflection revealed
consistent themes which demonstrated that performance, talent and self-judgement
dominated participants‘ perceptions and dictated behaviour. At first, contradictions
embedded in data remained elusive until I realised that there was a gap between
participants‘ intrinsic musical awareness and their ‗learned‘ non-musical state. After
subjecting the data to detailed reflection, contradictions were seen to have their origins
in societal tensions. As the spiral of analysis and understanding moved towards theory I
recognised that our cultural realities were situated within a learned perception that not
everyone was musical. This realisation confirmed the notion that it was societal
attitudes embedded in the formal education process itself, not lack of personal musical
potential, that led these ‗non-musicians‘ to feel distanced from their instinctive
musicality.
In an attempt to minimise subjective myopia (Haynes, 2006; Lincoln, 2002, p. 328)
where my own views would be persuaded by my own experience so fail to perceive
more broadly reflected participant data, I engaged in conversations with the broader
community as well as research colleagues. In considering some participant realities, one
young man queried:
We are vessels through which we experience
BUT are we being tuned?
Do we tune ourselves?
‗Are we being tuned? Do we tune ourselves?‘ These questions bring to mind the
consideration of Huberman and Miles (2002) where they see human beings as complex
entities for whom ‗social phenomena not only exist in the mind but are externally
derived from the regularities and determinisms that surround‘ (p. 1) them. How might
44
these questions affect my puzzle that, in our society, ‗musical‘ beings perceive
themselves to be ‗not musical‘? How was I to find self-perceived non-musicians and to
explore how they feel about their musicality?
After consulting many different research methods I finally settled on initial pilot
interviews that would provide necessary data for a questionnaire. I planned to follow up
these initial interviews with half a dozen case studies with an aim to bring a deeper
dimension to the study and provide human stories that would give real-life illustrations
of the main research issues. Careful analysis of these pilot ‗conversations‘ (Rubin and
Rubin, 1995) led me to reconsider the potential sample. With the exception of ‗Blue‘,
the only contributor who was not willing to sign an ethics permission form and so
would not be included in the study, the six pilot interviewees indicated that they
considered themselves to be ‗not musical‘. I wondered whether the emerging themes
were unique to these particular participants and focussed on my quest to find individuals
who might represent a broader perspective of non-musicians. As I sought participants
who might present a different view of their musicality, I was surprised how easy it was
to find individuals who saw themselves as non-musicians and who were willing to take
part in this research.
It soon became clear that the insights I sought were not to be found through
questionnaires or experimental methods. Rather, rigorous qualitative analysis with
iterative contact began to reveal deeper understandings. Surprises emerged from the
pilot interviews where participants, whose ages ranged from 27 years to 75 years,
revealed strong perceptions of being not musical. Their views conflicted with recent
neuroscientific work where Altenműller (2004, pp. 30-31) demonstrated that
measurable and lasting neuronal differences occurred following both long-term listening
experiences and brief musical training. Further, Tramo‘s (2001) research reveals that
musical experience causes lasting changes in the human brain and that these complex
neural responses in auditory pathways may be traced to those that ‗evolved in animals
for communication, sound source identification and auditory object segregation‘ (p. 54).
This area of research has begun to uncover some of the mystery surrounding human
musical perception but does present some contradictory findings. Where Peretz and her
colleagues view musical processing as a distinctive brain function where ‗the musical
brain is relatively autonomous‘ (2005, p. 103), Tramo‘s work suggests that there is no
‗music center‘ (sic) (p. 55) but that music cognition occurs through a complex interplay
45
involving parts of the brain that are also active for non-music functions. As I noted in
the limitations of this thesis, there is no scope to include considerations of congenital
amusia, but with the possible exclusion of ‗sufferers‘ (Abbott, 2002, p. 13) of this
condition, ‗there is a deep human need to create, perform, and listen to music‘ (Gray et
al., 2001, p. 53). As I considered the strong emotional effects of music and the
accompanying notion that its function is related to human evolution (Abbott, 2002;
Cross, 2002) and recent biomusic research (Gray et al., 2001) where music is accepted
as an important part of all human cultures, my research question became increasingly
critical.
A number of potential participants snowballed to 28 by which stage sufficient
participant details were available to give depth and contrast to the emergent categories
(Glaser & Strauss 1967; Minichiello et al., 1995, pp. 13-14). Number 29 happened by
chance; his unexpected arrival is detailed in the ballad of the never picked, Chapter
Four. As I worked towards achieving a cohort that would provide some balance in
views from those individuals who saw themselves as ‗non-musical‘ non-musicians, I
put more effort into finding those who felt that they were musical. Using an adaptable
qualitative research lens, I recorded experiences and reflections from participants.
Diverse backgrounds and occupations delivered stories that revealed a society which
undermined individual musicality. While twenty participants of this investigation
perceived themselves to be ‗not musical,‘ nine felt that they were ‗musical‘ and so
provide a counter balance to the perceptions of those who live with a negative self-view
of their musicality. As Henwood and Pidgeon (1993) maintain, ‗exploring cases which
do not fit an emerging conceptual system is invaluable because it serves as a device for
challenging initial assumptions and categories, and for modifying and elaborating
theory where necessary.‘ (p. 26). For the purposes of this study, it was necessary to train
my research lens directly upon the experiences of those who believed that they are ‗not
musical‘ and to reflect on experiences that had a potential to reveal societal influences.
The more I worked towards understanding the phenomenon of musicality as it is
experienced by individuals in our society, the more accumulating data led to complex
and inexplicable confusion. I suspected that essential meanings lay beneath
contradictions in conversations and that these would have wider implications for
understanding (Bar-Elli, 2006, p. 218) if I could succeed in delving beneath surface
distractions and more deeply analyse towards meaning. As Bar-Elli insists, words used
46
in particular ways are not idiosyncratic to the user (p. 218), but have wider implications
for our understanding if we persist in detailed listening, recording and analysis of data
from self-perceived non-musician participants.
For instance, a physiotherapist ‗knew‘ he could not sing. He told how he had imagined
himself to be a pop singer but that his grade seven teacher had silenced him in the class
choir and told him to mime. At the time, he said, he thought it was funny, but in
response to my written question, he wrote that he was now convinced that the teacher
‗could have been more encouraging‘. For him, this incident rang on through time. ‗It is
a shame,‘ he continued, for ‗even when on my own, I still, even now, feel selfconscious…let alone sing with other people around‘. I related his story to a nineteen
year-old university ‗drop-out‘ who laughed; ‗Classic! Very normal. It‘s always
happening‘. Both physiotherapist and ‗drop-out‘ agreed to sign on as participants for
this study.
I deliberately sought ‗non-musician‘ interviewees who could present contrasting
perceptions to the understandings revealed by the pilot interviewees. Since the latter had
considered themselves ‗not musical‘, I sought individuals who might perceive
themselves as musical. It was important that I could work with a disparate cohort who
would provide wide-ranging views. Quite by chance, I was discussing my research with
a 33-year-old ‗wanderer‘ who was about to leave the country to continue his world
travels. Describing himself as ‗an average‘ musician and he offered to write his thoughts
about what he called my ‗music project.‘ His contribution was fascinating but I did not
believe that he would qualify to be amongst the cohort of self-perceived non-musicians
until I received an email where he declared that he had ‗been feeling extra non-musical
for a while now‘ and gave permission for his material to be part of this self-perceived
‗non-musicians‘ study.
Research design and the emerging data
Mick was but one surprise in this study as ‗serendipity‘ (Punch, 1998) continued to play
a role and new participants agreed to share their stories. The original survey-case study
design became inappropriate as emerging data presented conflicting views; I recognised
a need to devise a new method. It was in a response to real-life experiences of
participants that I changed the design to become a qualitative investigation where the
focus fixed directly on perceptions gleaned from conversations, handwritten and
47
electronic notes. Researcher and participant understandings continued to present
contradictions that remained puzzling; deeper reflections and philosophical insights
over time (Lincoln, 2002, p. 330) gradually brought new meaning to the data.
Interdependence with participants (Henwood & Pidgeon, 1993, p. 24) proved to be both
helpful and confusing as issues led to increased reflexivity and I recognised the
potential danger for researcher persuasion to bias data. It helped to note the warning
from Lincoln (2002, p. 328) regarding a potential for interpretive studies to present
unwarranted researcher persuasion to the readers of research. So I continued to consult
experts in research as I worked towards strategies that were appropriate and trustworthy
(Lincoln, 2002, p. 327). Use of narrative form and philosophical reflection grew from
the demands of the data itself. While narrative form might not provide a basis for truth
claims (Bruner, 1985, p. 113), its value was evident as it delivered insights not
otherwise apparent. I became conscious that the rigorous process of detailed listening,
coding and analysing was uncovering previously hidden complexities and
contradictions.
Understandings emerging from data evolved to speak in theoretical terms as the
research process progressed through a spiral of data gathering, data analysis and
philosophical reflection using social perceptions theorized by Habermas (1981/1997),
Small (1977, 1998) and Bhaskar (1989). Figure 1 outlines the process of iterative
analysis where work on data progressed through initial qualitative analysis before being
reduced to manageable proportions in narrative form (as a ballad) and thence
undergoing philosophical reflection.
48
Theory
Philosophical Lens
Ballad of NP
Qualitative analysis
Raw data
Figure 1: Overarching research design
First reduced to manageable proportions (using qualitative analytical methods and
narrative in the form of a ballad), raw data (participant text in original form) was then
tamed into a theory-generating spiral through further qualitative analysis and
philosophical reflection. Influences of Western dualism (Peacock, 1986, p. 24) came to
light as complex layers of lived musical experiences revealed a dominance of negative
self-judgement and convictions that individuals were either ‗musical‘ or ‗not musical‘. I
heard how many participant attempts to learn to sing or play led to a belief that
musicality is a gift, inherited by only the few. I began to sense the powers of the notions
of ‗performance‘ and the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998). As a wealth of material
from a final cohort of 29 participants brought this reality alive I recognised the
importance of allowing the data to speak for itself. My assumptions about what is
‗music‘ and what is ‗musical‘ were challenged as I absorbed and reflected on data. I
began to understand that participant stories raised ever-deeper questions about the
experience of music in our society and about our approach to the teaching of music in
49
our schools. Dictated by the words and actions of participants, this study began to reveal
why many people in our society might feel excluded from involvement in active music
making. This investigation became a vehicle for an expression of and reflection on
participant data.
Phase One
After approval was granted by the Human Research Ethics Committee, I commenced
the interview process. Each participant received an approved ‗Information Sheet,‘
‗Demographic Data Form‘ and ‗Consent Form‘ before we began our ‗conversation‘ so
that each was aware of the topic and intent. Although interviews were open-ended, I had
guiding questions gleaned from the literature and from documents which included
letters, notes and newspaper articles. As a neophyte researcher, I acknowledged my debt
to recognised workers in the field (especially the writings of Guba & Lincoln (1981)
and Rubin & Rubin (1995). From these ‗experts‘ I learned practical ways of helping
participants to feel at ease which allowed conversations to develop naturally. Ways of
asking questions that encouraged open responses and which kept away from accusatory
phases (Becker, 1998) led towards mutual researcher/participant communication. In this
way, I learned from the participants themselves and soon found that it was acceptable
(and helpful) to allow my own vulnerabilities to show. This made the conversational
partners feel more comfortable as they recognised mutuality in my own musical
experiences and it made it easier for them to reveal deeper thoughts and feelings.
Initial interviews lead to Stories
Serendipity continued to play a part as participants6 in my study snowballed; it became
clear that this was a significant issue for people. Many self-perceived non-musicians
were willing to reflect on their experiences of music:

I approached some neighbours to help with the first interviews. As retirees, they
agreed to arrange to spend an hour talking about music in their lives. Perhaps these
first two informants, both keen ballroom dancers, were the most nervous of all
participants. However, during both their ‗conversations‘ at my house, their concern
quickly dissipated as we talked. They were both keen to tell what they knew and
agreed to take part in another conversation for Phase Two of the study.
6
Please refer to Appendix A for details of self-perceived non-musician participants which includes
names, occupations, ages and self-perceptions of being either musical or not musical.
50

A teacher educator agreed to have a taped conversation in his office. While, for him,
revealing his own perceptions was ‗harrowing‘, his insights were valuable. A highly
principled supervisor, he was aware of the many difficulties caused by research such
as this. He generously (if idiosyncratically) returned interview
abstracts/interpretations annotated with personal comments. He also responded to
several phone calls, replied to written questions and participated in a second
interview during Phase Two of this research.

A fellow member of a singing group was happy to talk over a cup of coffee. She
chose a busy shopping venue, and while it suited her, for ease of transcribing, I was
grateful that most of the interviews took place in my home.

As she spoke about her perceptions of music after her child‘s lesson, a mother of a
young piano student said that she could ‗make time after a lesson one day‘ to speak
about her understandings. Just as I began to think that the ‗one day‘ would never
come, she stayed to tell her story.

A young high school teacher was keen to share her perceptions.
I realised that it was important to recreate participants‘ experiences in order to present
the reader with convincing narratives that could reveal how individuals‘ lived
experiences effected their self-view as ‗musical‘ people. To make this possible, I
adopted understandings from an arts-based reflective study outlined by Barone and
Eisner (1988, p. 75). Participants‘ self-views ranged from alienation to inclusion. Where
one lawyer felt distanced from music in her life and felt that, at work, she was: ‗the
most ignorant person…musically,‘ a public servant remained closely connected to her
musical expression even although she considered herself to be not musical. For her,
music maintained a central role in life and she enjoyed making music with others
enough to ensure that she organised her busy schedule to include rehearsal times for a
community choir.
Knowing that each person brings idiosyncratic understandings to the text, I intended to
promote empathy as participants‘ and readers‘ experiences (Barone & Eisner, 1988, p.
77) combined to build layers of meaning. New understandings resulting from this
process would then be available to provide material for teachers as they reflected on
their own practice; any appropriate observation could be applied to their work practice.
My purpose was not limited to ‗official‘ educational practice, but also aimed at serving
the community of participants and readers (Lincoln, 2002, p. 334). Indeed, the process
51
of participating in this study assisted in emancipation for one, a retired technician and
amateur ballroom dancer. He was excited to change his view from one where he felt that
he was not musical to one that allowed him a perception of being ‗musical‘ regardless
of whether he thought that he could sing or play to certain standards.
It was after I had sent him questions (responding to information given during his
interview) that he made it clear that he did not want to write answers. Instead, he arrived
in person and, while veritably dancing on the doorstep, he told of the difference in how
he now viewed the qualities of entertainers and how he could appreciate even more the
efforts of parents and teachers as they assisted learners acquire musical skills. He also
recognised that it was not his lack of musicality; rather it was due to a lack of earlier
opportunity that he did not sing or play. These new understandings experienced by this
one individual reflected the work of Palmer (cited in Lincoln, 2002, p. 335) where he
writes that ‗epistemology is [not] a bloodless abstraction; the way we know has
powerful implications for the way we live.‘
The setting
Participants were aware that they lived in a world full of sound. For this research,
however, it is important to consider what might count as ‗music/musical‘ for each one.
Two individuals included ‗nature‘ in their understanding of what musicality might mean
as they spoke of how, for them, music was evoked by sounds of water, wind and
birdsong. They acknowledged the effects that these natural elements had on their being.
An overarching impression of participants‘ musical reality, however, was one where the
music came in a commercial package and where individuals accepted their role as
consumers. Music was something made by ‗musical‘ people who were the musicians. A
retired kindergarten teacher who sang with a community choir and attended singing
lessons, confessed that these ‗gifted‘ individuals were the ones who could play and sing.
Along with several other participants, she acknowledged that it was the musicians who
provide the music ‗as opposed to the rest of us that battle on‘.
Phase Two
As a music educator working principally in a private studio setting, my views about
what is ‗musical‘ were challenged as participants revealed their thoughts and
perceptions on what they considered to be ‗musical‘ in their lives. I found myself
searching for meaning in my own world of music. Personal questions regarding my own
52
reality helped to create empathy with participants as we sought to understand this
elusive phenomenon. The research process focussed deeper into how individuals felt as
musical beings; how they were affected at a ‗musical‘ event; how they responded to the
musical world around them. Iterative interaction provided increasingly rich data that,
while messy (Punch, 1998), provided valuable insights.
Twenty-eight Participants: Data saturation achieved?
My concern that the initial six self-labelled ‗not musical‘ participants were not
representative of many self-perceived non-musicians in our community, led me to
continue to seek individuals who might feel differently. Again, music as a focus for
research seemed to attract interest and I received more offers of prospective participants
than a single researcher could handle (and do justice to such valuable life experiences). I
did, however, gratefully accept some of these non-participant contributors as readers
and commentators and they became part of this investigation‘s ‗community‘ (Lincoln,
2002, p. 334) working towards new understandings; their annotated comments
contributed to my analytic process. There were only two potential informants who
baulked at becoming ‗official‘ participants. They both had problems of ‗trust‘ and were
not prepared to sign the consent form. Both were self-employed and were wary of legal
implications.
Phase Two participants varied in age from 12 to 82 and they came from different
backgrounds, both ‗white-collar‘ and ‗blue-collar‘. In an effort to represent different
perspectives on a continuum of musicality, I sought individuals who represented a
negative position where they felt entirely unmusical to a positive one where they
believed they were musical. I was fortunate in finding individuals who represented
diverse situations. Again, contacts were made in different ways. At a social gathering,
for instance, I inquired about some particular music being played and a 19-year-old
university drop-out offered his thoughts. He seemed quite confident in his knowing;
how music was important for both himself and his friends. Just one week short of his
twentieth birthday, he was happy to come to my home and take part in a recorded
conversation on the day before he left for an overland adventure on his motor bike.
Then, at a meeting for research purposes, a fellow student told me of her air-conditioner
technician husband‘s experience of music at school and suggested that I contact him.
Such incidents continued until, with the 28th participant, I believed that I had achieved
data saturation (Glaser & Strauss 1967; Minichiello, Aroni et al., 1995) of emergent
53
categories for this study. Vic, participant number 29 surprised his way into my study, as
his story in Chapter Four will tell.
A Philosophic Lens: A questioning approach
Continuous, systematic analysis and member checks (Punch, 1998, p. 260) exposed
internal tensions within participants‘ perceptions. On the one hand, conversational
partners acknowledged their innate musicality and expressed an appreciation of the
value of music as a means for emotional expression and connection. However, they also
expressed feelings of being not musical and revealed living realities where they were
effectively locked away from any active public music involvement. Participants who
believed themselves unable to make overt musical responses and who accepted a label
of being ‗not musical‘ were vulnerable to music industry dictates in their mute
consumption of others‘ products. Ongoing iterative participant contact was leading to a
palpable perception of separation and disconnectedness between individuals and music.
It was becoming clear that deeper cultural forces were at least partly the cause of
underlying assumptions that influenced participants‘ musical beliefs. Their stories began
to tell how they ‗learned‘ to be ‗not musical‘ and I began to realise that their realities
were not unique but were culturally imposed and were intimately connected with
Western dualisms—that is, an entrenched cultural separation between the musical and
the non-musical (Peacock, 1986, p. 24). Participants‘ stories continually illustrated an
understanding voiced by Palmer (cited above; in Lincoln, 2002, p. 335) that the way we
view ourselves is dependent on what knowledge we are able to access. I became acutely
aware that it was crucial not to ignore the importance of past and current writings
because any potential value of my study lay in its authentic representation of participant
realities viewed though wider, more informed philosophic lens than my small
community efforts would allow.
Capturing and then representing participant stories, was only the first step in my
research journey. As I engaged in the initial phase of detailed recording and analysing
participants‘ perceptions and articulated emerging themes and effects, I recognised a
need to use stringent qualitative research procedures if my study was to work towards
new insights. Use of theoretical reflection as an integral part of an extended analysis
then made it possible to view data through a wider lens and to draw on the social and
cultural awareness of informed thinkers.
54
Philosophical reflection led to new ways of understanding the concepts of being
‗musical‘ or ‗unmusical‘ as they presented rich understandings of our human ways. One
example of the value of a ‗borrowed‘ philosophical lens occurred just when I believed I
had a major break-through. At this stage I believed I had an epiphany. I believed that I
had cracked a life-size problem! Of all the contradictions and complexities in participant
data, thoughts from one particular participant had caused deep confusion; until, in one
‗Eureka‘ moment, the material from a teacher educator began to make sense. I
employed a technique used by Guba & Lincoln (1981, p. 249) where I used a
comparative table to clarify what he recognised as his real world compared to the way
he reacted to and was affected by his ‗learned knowledge‘ of his world. Use of such
comparative tables became a valuable as a tool as they highlighted obtuse perceptions.
I believed that I had discovered a path towards an answer! Societal perceptions caused a
void between participants‘ epistemological and ontological realities. Then I found the
writings of Habermas (1981/1997, pp. 38-55) where he considered that ‗reconnection of
modern culture with an everyday sphere of praxis that is dependent on a living
heritage…[which] is impoverished‘ (pp. 52, 53) is only possible if a major change
occurs in societal institutions. Peacock (1986) also spelled out the deep divide between
‗nature‘ and ‗culture‘ (p. 24) and, as I continued to read, it seemed that my ‗epiphany‘
was a phenomenon that had already demanded the attention of past and current
theorists. I recognised that it was important to seek more knowledge from this domain.
It was not until I read works of Bhaskar (1986) that I found a theory which effectively
clarified the reality suggested by contradictions and subtleties in participant stories.
In Bhaskar‘s view, ‗realism‘ is perceived as something that relates to ‗being‘ (p. 6).
Bhaskar's work provided some theoretical basis for my attempts at questioning
participants‘ perceptions of being unmusical. It helped to give substance to my
challenging these modes of being that limited people from really expressing themselves
as musical humans…as music beings. Not only did Bhaskar‘s work provide a
theoretical base for reflecting on such data, but in his proposal that theory is ‗about the
nature of being,‘ (1986, p. 6) he gave credence to the work of Small (1977; 1998), a
music theorist/commentator who has influenced my research. With his inclusive
approach, Small (1998) perceived a universal musicality available to all and he
emphasised the cultural and social dimensions of music acts—beyond the individual
55
learner‘s capacity. Insights from these thinkers, then, helped in the reflective process as
I sought to reach understandings that would be useful in practice.
Individuals considered in this study revealed an uneasy relationship with their
musicality. Their situations, introduced in Chapter One, were affected by perceptions
that they did not have essential prerequisites necessary for active involvement in music
making. Yet music is a ‗brute‘ fact of life (Searle 1995). It is part of our human heritage
(Small, 1998). Most human beings are hard-wired for musical learning so can
experience normal cognitive development given appropriate experiences (Serafine,
1998, p. 234; Tramo, 2001, p. 54). It was important, then, to question why it was that
participants in this study felt it necessary to believe that they were not musical.
I recognised that sensitive inquiry is crucial if underlying societal forces affecting an
individual‘s willingness to take part in a ‗natural‘ human activity are to be exposed.
Since music is an essential part of human nature (see Chapter One), it was important to
work towards a deeper understanding of our current reality in order to contribute to an
information base upon which educational planning can take place. To achieve this, I
believed that is was important to find a question that could lead to a plan that would go
some way towards an understanding of how non-musicians perceived their musicality.
For help in defining such a question, I sought guidance from Heidegger‘s (1958) What
is Philosophy? where he took his reader on a path that extended back from distant
beginnings and moved towards an unknown future. An exploration based on such
thinking could embrace a connectiveness; an essential aspect of our human existence.
It is part of the essence of our human nature that allows such a reflection back and forth
in an attempt to make sense of existence. To this end, Heidegger placed the greatest
importance on our rationality yet, as contemporary neuroscience is showing (Gray,
Krause et al. 2001; Tramo 2001; Altenműller 2004; Waters 2004), humans are hardwired for expression via our irrational faculties. I wish to argue that this irrational part
of our human nature holds within it a key to deeper self-knowing and as such, is an
integral part of this research. Heidegger provided the original impetus for me to seek
beyond accepted assumptions. I accepted his understanding that we could only have
minimal understanding of this path we tread; this gave me confidence to question
further. Heidegger developed a questioning approach to thinking and I decided this was
the way to approach my own puzzle—the question of ‗unmusicality‘ in society.
56
Heidegger‘s thinking helped me recognise how we live as musical beings (or not). As I
listened to individuals speak about their musical realities I puzzled over difficulties of
moving beyond their present reality to glimpse potential new ways of perceiving.
Thinking in this way helped me to further shape my research question:

What are non-musicians‘ perspectives on musicality and how do these effect their
connections to their world of music?
Researcher Subjectivity
As Lincoln emphasises, honest research necessarily exposes researcher subjectivity
(Lincoln, 2002, p. 334) and ethically conceived, transparent research has the capacity to
uncover personal and societal assumptions that direct what we might otherwise believe
to be inevitable life paths. While participant conversations are intended to remain open
in nature, I planned specific guiding questions to provide an underlying structure for
interactions between researcher and participants. Gradually, I found myself including
my own feelings of inadequacy as a musician and it was these revelations that provoked
further responses from participants.
As I engaged with this raw data from ‗experts‘ in life (Gadamer, 1975 in Greene p.
189), these 29 self-perceived non-musicians‘ actually clarified my own unexpected
connections and disconnections with their musical realities. Situated in their everyday
lives, participant data included perceptions from the present and memories of past
experiences where interpretations reflected real life-worlds (Greene 1997). As the active
inquirer, I not only grasped the notion that I was part of the inquiry but that my own
feelings regarding musicality necessarily affected the research process. One part of me
knew it was easier to stay safely on more ‗objective‘ ground, yet a gut-wrenching desire
for genuine enlightenment gnawed and inched its way outwards from attempts at selfprotection.
Summary of Research Design and Techniques
(a) Methodological Tools

Guiding questions

Interviews

Researcher Journal
57

Documents (participant notes, newspaper articles, notes and letters written by
community members)

Insights from philosophical readings
(b) Guiding questions:

What is understood by the term ‗musical‘? From the analysis of the documents and
from the perspectives of the participants, what are the various meanings of the terms
‗music‘, ‗musical‘, and ‗musicality‘ for the participants?

To what extent does the ‗musical‘ label impact upon the decision of an individual to
become involved in music?

To what extent do the participants‘ understanding of ‗musical‘ impact on their
support of other people‘s involvement in music or have effects on current provision
of music education?
During participant interviews every endeavour was made to allow the conversations to
flow as naturally as possible. I refrained from making notes until after the
conversational partner had left. In seeking information regarding their feelings of being
musical, I also guided their responses towards their perceptions of family members and
friends.
(c) Researcher Journal
A written record of reflections on data that captured immediate responses to interview
and/or other contacts provided an opportunity to consider thought processes over time.
It fulfilled the function of ‗memoing‘ (Punch, 1998, pp. 206-208) as I considered
participant and researcher views, insights from expert researchers and theorists and
reflections on interpretation of data. This on-going record was a valuable adjunct to the
analytic process as it became to aide to an emergence of deeper connections; this
process led to further questions and thence understandings. Not limited to accurate
descriptions of participant ‗reality,‘ the journal facilitated conceptual speculation, a
linking of aspects from data and a consideration of possible theory. Two examples of
reflective journal use follow:
(d) Interviews
I used an audio tape-recorder in order to obtain a full and accurate record of each
interview. Participants‘ words were captured to portray idiosyncratic nuances. I
transcribed all utterances, using annotations within square brackets to indicate pauses,
intakes of breath, emphasis of word/syllable/phrase, laughter, sighs, pauses etc. The
recordings remained a valuable resource throughout the research period. They ensured
58
that the data remained as an authentic record, not tainted with iterative revisiting of text
and allowed for new insights to be gleaned when required.
In the early stages of the interviewing process, journal entries helped to incorporate
understandings from experienced qualitative practitioners. The following example of a
personal journal entry refers to the first interview with a young high school teacher
(Rhonda); it reveals how I benefited from a reading of Rubin & Rubin (1995):
As interviewer, I need to be focussed – to allow value of the procedure be
recognised BUT – not so intent and earnest that the interaction becomes overly
serious and formal. Since the object is to precipitate the uncovering of thoughts
and feelings about a part of the Rhonda‘s life about which she may not be
currently aware – it is best to allow time to be seemingly ‗wandering‘ around the
topic and to gradually spiral in – gently, hesitatingly – so as to be wondering –
not ordered and forthright. In this way – Rhonda may feel that she is really
‗helping‘ me (as, indeed she is) – as she exposes her thoughts and explains them.
The understanding emerging from Rhonda‘s interview might not have occurred
if I had been ‗organized and formal.‘ The outcome would have been quite
different, I suspect. In feeling free to probe the behaviour of her students (not
herself) – she ‗naturally‘ used her own development and experiences and went
from the ‗safe‘ situation of talking about the high school students to explore how
she‘d really felt about making music on an instrument - and why:
In her interview, Rhonda had moved from reflecting about her students and an
observation that they would not try to learn a musical instrument because they would
have been afraid of making a fool of themselves, to reveal her own feelings:
Rhonda: I for example didn‘t play a musical instrument because I felt that I just
was shocking when I did try – and that everyone else would think that I didn‘t
know how to do it –not being able to do it – do it right.
This comment contrasted vividly with her earlier general and impersonal attitude that
had been safely and distantly reflective. Use of a journal, then, helped to refine practical
research procedures as well as to provide a reflective means towards understanding and
theory.
The following example demonstrates how use of the reflexive journal helped to draw on
the work of ‗expert‘ researchers to provide a wider lens through which participant
revelations could give deeper and broader meaning.
When Nell admits that, despite her earlier belief that she was musical, she found
she had ‗no gift‘ for music, her comment is consistent with Dweck‘s
understanding that people with an ‗entity‘ view believe that their ability is at the
core of their achievement (1986, 1999). Because they feel that they have no skill
in an area, they develop what Dweck (and others) refers to as learned
helplessness and so avoid what they see as activities that are too challenging.
59
Nicholls has a problem with Dweck‘s theory (Nicholls, 1990, p. 31). He
acknowledges that not enough is understood yet to explain how we view
ourselves in regard to ability (34, 35). However, his recognition of the difference
between ‗task involvement and ego involvement‘ (p. 36) could be applicable
here where Nell feels that she could not sing or play guitar because she believes
she was not good enough.
Further questions to her are needed to find out:
Whose judgement caused her to have these negative views regarding her musical
ability? Her teachers? Her parents? Her siblings? Herself?
How might she have been persuaded that she is not musical, when had not always
been true for her?
Journal entries and subsequent reflection, then, assisted me to see more clearly
meanings embedded within data. I continued to refer to writings of experienced
interviewers (Patton, 1990; Rubin and Rubin, 1995) which were, again, useful in
guiding me towards flexible, iterative, and continuous interviewing which helped to
lead me towards building meaningful theory. Their writings were an important aid
which led me to ‗suspend [my] own assumptions about the way things work and
actively solicit ideas and themes from [my] interviewees‘ (Rubin and Rubin, p. 43).
(e) Documents
A variety of documents were utilised in this study. Current newspaper reports on
musical events became catalysts to my understandings as they presented insights into
the world experienced by younger participants and raised questions about music in
contemporary society. Documents that were directly useful for data analysis and
reflexivity, however, included participants‘ annotations on (returned) transcriptions,
letters, unsolicited handwritten notes, replies to my questions and my own notes from
telephone conversations. Several examples of handwritten documents provided
additional (and conflicting) insights to material given during the interview and
transcription process.
Qualitative analysis reveals central themes
Listening to, transcribing and engaging in iterative conversations in addition to phone
and/or email contact enriched researcher reflection. Clustering like experiences or
influences into tables assisted in the process of analysis (Miles & Huberman, 1984, p.
283) and reinforced accuracy of emerging themes. These centred around:

Music as performance: where an ability to play an instrument and/or sing was the
important determining factor of an individual‘s self-view as a musical being.
Participants‘ evidence was dominated by perceptions where judgement of musicality
affected their willingness to engage in musical activities.
60

Music as human action: something in which humans are involved in their
everyday life either as ‗doers‘ or ‗appreciators‘. This included perceptions which
deferred to the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) and indicated that a conception
of music was perceived where it was either a private or public ‗pursuit‘.

The effect of music on identity: where it was perceived as central to the
development of both individual identity and social cohesion.
In Table 1, participant examples show that, while these individuals enjoyed music, they
experienced a reality where the performance aspect dominated their involvement with
music making. They were not be prepared to sing (or accepted others‘ judgement that
they could do so) in public because they considered that their standard of performance
would not be acceptable to others; their voices were not ‗musical‘ enough. Then, in
Table 2: Example of perceptions of ‗musicality‘ and self-judgement, examples of
participants‘ perceptions reveal how these led to the emergence of themes and presents
the relationship between pilot interviewees‘ understandings of being ‗musical‘ and a
resulting self-judgement.
Table 1: Example of perceptions that led to emergence of themes
Music as performance:
Music as human action
identity
Sonya
I have cousins who
belong to marvellous
choirs. There's no
doubting their musicality.
Mine never was / never
will be at that level.
I love to clap and dance
along to the music and I
love to listen. I enjoy it
much more if I don't have to
keep still. I want to move
not just with the beat but the
emotion that I hear in it.
I do consider myself '
‗musical‘ if you include
enjoyment and a
passionate
commitment to helping
others enjoy it too. I'm
assured that I can't sing
in tune…I accept
ruefully.
I don't consider myself
‗musical‘ compared to a
musician. I‘m not even in
the [same] ballpark.
Vi
…they have to be able to
project themselves
satisfactorily to other
people as being
‗musically‘ talented. If I
hear a singer [who does
not sing well] I‘ll say,
‗Who the heck told them
they could sing?‘
[A musical person] can sing
or play a ‗musical‘
instrument. [Their sound]
must be easy to listen to,
relaxing, inspiring, stirring
or stimulating to my senses.
Knowing that I have a
hopeless voice I would not
like to inflict my singing on
someone else.
I don‘t really think I am
musical. I have no voice
to sing I would love to be
able to sing; I enjoy
humming along with the
radio.
61
Caterina [A musical person is]
someone who is a trained
musician in some sense,
or they have a gift. [Their
music] moves you in
some way.
They have a natural ability
to be ‗musical‘…they‘ve got
this innate gift in them.
That‘s what I would think if
someone said…a ‗musical
person.‘ If it sounds nice to
me…sounds in tune, …just
is a nice sound in my
ear…something in it that
moves you in some way.
…certain hymns that all the
children liked…ones that
would be really popular, an‘
they‘d all start singing it
really well; I love singing
hymns.
I‘m not musical. I‘m not
trained. As a family, we
were brought up around
music but none of us
could sing, so I wouldn‘t
say any of my family
were ‗musical.‘
I always think ‗God I
wish I could sing‘
Table 2: Example of perceptions of ‗musicality‘ and self-judgement
Nell
Harry
Ada
Rhonda
Perceptions of
being
‗musical‘
A person who is
musical can
hear it and
appreciate it. I
wouldn‘t say
any one of my
family is
musical.
There are two
aspects to be
drawn on when
referring to
people as
musical. There
is the
appreciative
aspect and then
that which is the
usual sense of it
meaning that
you can‘t play
an instrument or
make music and
therefore are not
musical.
To be musical is
to be able to
appreciate the
finer things of
music. Someone
has a musical
ear - not like
me,
unfortunately –
when they can
pick up the
notes, the
sound, the tone like my son can
listen to
something and
then play it.
Music is an
enjoyable thing.
It can bring
emotion into you.
Am I ‗musical‘?
‗Musical‘ in
playing
instruments - no;
‗musical‘ in
enjoying music –
yes.
Selfjudgement
I am not
musical
because, whilst
others did
succeed to learn
the guitar in a
similar
situation, I
failed.
I am not musical
because the
results are not
good enough
quickly enough.
I am not
musical because
my singing is
not always in
tune when
compared with
other people
(especially my
son).
I didn‘t play a
musical
instrument
because I felt that
I just was
shocking when I
did try and that
everyone else
would think that
I didn‘t know
how to do it
right.
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Iterative themes: The method evolves
Of seven pilot interviewees, Blue was the only one to see himself as a musical person.
Was this group so biased? Did it represent many in our society? This research sought to
gain insight into different understandings of what it meant to be ‗musical‘ in order to
provide useful information for music teaching and learning. I recognised the need to
broaden the participant base to include individuals who might have different
perspectives. To be of any use, this study needed to be fair and to represent different
people from the community. It needed to provide a fair balance of views from society
(Lincoln, 2002, p. 330). This proved to be not such a difficult task, since, speaking to
people at research or business meetings and at social events, I found that ‗music‘ and
‗musicality‘ sparked spontaneous interest. I was fortunate in having more offers of
participants (from varied backgrounds) than I had time to interview and consider.
Ever alert to the problem of the art of persuasion, I always endeavoured to ensure that
all research practices are transparent and that I remain receptive and perceptive. I realise
that it is essential to maintain openness and honesty in all interactions if researcher and
participants are to remain open to new perceptions (Lincoln, 2002). It is through this
iterative, reflective process that reciprocal learning can take place as, through the telling
of their stories, individuals‘ reflections may reveal new understandings to themselves as
well as to me. I am ever conscious that this work is based on a sharing of knowledge,
and that there is no single privileged owner of knowledge. As Lincoln (2002, pp. 331341) emphasizes, valuable revelations from the participant data rely on adequate
research processes where researchers remain alert to poor practice that would
undermine researcher participant relationship.
Conceptual framework and the research design
Three concerns regarding the trustworthiness of this research led to a review and
modification of the ‗survey and case study‘ design. I needed to consider issues of
authenticity, honesty, and transparency to ensure that the methods used did clearly
reflect lived realities and revealed processes in such a way that they could be useful to
practitioners. It was important to address issues of concern, where:

The results from interviews in Phase One merely scratched the surface of participant
perceptions; it was crucial to tease out deeper understandings.

With one exception, participants from Phase One perceived themselves as being not
musical (and that self-perceived ‗musical‘ individual was not willing to become a
63
participant for this study). I recognised the need to seek further participants who
might reveal disparate views.

I needed to address community scepticism (sometimes deeply entrenched) in the
reception of research outcomes. To this end, it was worthwhile noting Lincoln‘s
(2002) advice regarding a transparent researcher process (and openly acknowledged
subjectivity) and to make it clear that essential value of the study rested in
participants‘ own experiences and views. It would only be through consistent,
systematic recourse to their authentic voices and by open acceptance of the mutual
importance of all involved that any deeper understandings of human connections
with our musicality could be articulated.
The design maintained its focus on an analytical and interpretative examination of
documents and participant-researcher conversations. I continued to peruse pertinent
documents (letters, emails, newspaper articles, submissions, etc), transcribe
conversations, record details and impressions of telephone conversations and emails as
well as making notes of recurrent ideas and participant contradictions in my Research
Journal. These facilitated reflection as I undertook careful analysis to tease out and to
understand emergent meanings before recording understandings in readiness for
participant verification.
Engagement with participants and their perceptions over a period over five years added
depth to the interpretative process and provided an increasingly fair representation of
their disparate views. The framework for this study is summarised in Table 3 (modified
after Lincoln, 2002, pp. 329, 330).
Table 3: Criteria to ensure fair (and so useful) research practice
Criteria
Action
Effect
Authenticity
Iterative discourse with
participants to ensure their
views are truly told
Ethical considerations
maintained throughout every
phase.
Fairness
Views of all contributors
(interviewees and authors of
documents) to be given
balanced exposure.
Researcher/Researched
Mutuality
Humility of researcher by
maintaining an awareness of
equal partnership in
With no dominating view,
societal effects on nonmusicians are articulated and
so can be heard in social and
educational planning.
Increased understanding
happens for both researcher
and researched;
64
exploring feelings of
musicality
Educative
Sharing new understandings,
encouraging change and
providing information for
education planning.
Provides an opportunity for
the view that it is as normal
to do music as mathematics,
so that music could be
included as part of the core
curriculum.
Philosophic lens
On-going reading brings
philosophic insights to the
interpreting of data.
Deeper philosophical and
theoretical awareness provide
a framework within which
broader and deeper
reflections bring new
meanings to participant data.
Systematic
Careful recording of all data;
on-going reflection to strive
for conscious awareness of
assumptions; constant
member-checks to verify
accuracy of interpretations.
Checks and re-checks so that
queries from participants and
interested educators or
researchers can be accurately
addressed.
As researcher, I recognised that my own experience as a musical being was unique, and
that it was important to acknowledge that all participants each had their own musical
reality. Yet it was tempting to believe that I had some understanding of how the other
people in this study might feel about being musical and how their reality might affect
them and their involvement in music. I consciously strove to bracket my own
perceptions (Patton, 1990) and to hear the real voices of the participants, not mere
echoes through my interpretation (Walsh, 1999). In an attempt to achieve a story that is
as close as possible to perceived realities, I presented participants with my version of
what their tales. At times, I exaggerated their positions in the hope of provoking
responses.
Most importantly, this journey has been a consistent attempt to perceive the many layers
of depth of the participants‘ realities. So that their different stories received a fair
hearing, it has been essential to review interviews and subsequent responses and reexamine thoughts and impressions from the observations so that broader understandings
could be teased out of the distractions and complexities of everyday living. This
approach led to a constant exploration and re-exploration of perceived facts and feelings
of both researcher and researched. Every endeavour has been made to maintain a
rigorous method with an ever-growing paper trail recording processes of this interactive
process. All participants‘ data comprised memoranda and reflective notes that facilitated
65
a rigorous and continuous reflective process towards understanding. This paper-trail
existed as a transparent documentary guide to the continuous reflective and interactive
process towards generating of theory. As Henwood and Pidgeon found (1993, p. 25),
this was an invaluable aid to keeping track of details as well as stimulating new ideas.
Understandings emerging from experiences and reflections in this study do not sit
comfortably with the Western dualistic view of individuals being either musical or
unmusical. Yet challenges presented by participant experiences and philosophical
reflection are substantive as they provide plausible grounds for convincing theory.
While it cannot lead to generalization, it is relevant to parents, teachers and community
members as they engage in music listening, learning and doing as it provides a clear
picture of alienation that result from exclusive practice. (Henwood & Pidgeon, pp. 27,
28)
It was beyond the scope of this study to examine factors concerning the development of
‗musical‘ ability or ‗musical‘ achievement. Therefore, it was not possible to include
discussions of the range of perceptions that ‗musicality‘ might encompass, and the
varying degrees to which different individuals might include music making and music
listening in their lives. Further, as acknowledged in Chapter One, the limited scope of
this thesis did not allow for more than limited reference to the influence of educators
and theorists.
For this research, the ‗critical realism‘ of Bhaskar (1989; 1986) helped to frame findings
from participant perceptions. This gave a freedom to view new understandings as
emancipatory and to perceive human ontological ‗reality‘ as being more important than
our current place of epistemological awareness. Recent neurological and biological
findings, then, can count as a substantial source of knowledge against which
participants‘ stories reflected their particular societal influences. Using the ‗scientific‘
evidence that humans are ‗wired‘ for music contributed to the credence of my research
quest where the question centred on how musical beings came to believe that they are
‗not musical.‘
From the warnings of Hammersley (2002), however, I recognised the importance of the
work itself and that its value need not necessarily be reflected in a change in societal
attitude (despite my perceptions). What was crucial for this study was that participant
66
stories were heard, that interpretations underwent careful member checks so that
research results were useful for critical reflection. Participants‘ own words led me
address a major concern so I strove to find a way to present potential readers with real
data, yet not swamp them with prose. As I continued to immerse myself in data, I
recognised poetic rhythm in the stories; this opened a path towards a narrative base for a
series of ballad stanzas. These used only the participants‘ words and I juxtaposed
phrases to enhance meaning. Participant data join to tell ‗music‘s‘ story, a telling which
reveals a reality of music in the lives of non-musical participants. The ballad of the
never picked follows an overview of the pilot interviews to form the core of the next
chapter.
67
Chapter Four
The Tales Begin
Music is in our genes.
(Tramo, In Cromie, 2001)
Despite their initial apprehensiveness, two of my immediate neighbours were willing to
do interviews. Vi and Vance became the first ‗conversational partners’ (their italics,
Rubin & Rubin, 1995, p. 10) for this study. In these pilot interviews7 my intent was to
be as informal as possible; to encourage participants to feel free to tell their stories
without duress. Anticipation of a taped interview, however, was intimidating for Vi and
she wanted to know what it was all about. So several days before the appointed time, I
gave her the information, concession and demographic forms as we briefly discussed
the purpose of the study.
Nervous, neatly dressed, and with prepared handwritten notes in hand, Vi arrived
precisely at the appointed time. Talking into a microphone was a problem for her but
she was determined to contribute. She had considered the topic and wanted to make sure
that her voice was heard. She knew what she thought a ‗musical‘ person was and she
reasoned that her contribution might help to work out how people came to think of
themselves as being ‗musical‘ or not. I made some comments about our immediate
setting and that seemed to take the edge off our tension. As I waved towards the kitchen
and indicated that the washing up was still waiting, she relaxed: ‗I‘m not even lookin‘ in
the kitchen, Eve. I can see your washing on the line too. Is that alright?‘ Down-to-earth
chores seemed to work their charm in getting rid of any pretence at formality. First she
talked from prepared notes but within ten minutes our conversational flow had become
more natural.
Vi hears the music in the natural elements around her and considers that, to be musical,
a person does need to be able to appreciate these. For Vi, music included such things as
7
For a list of pilot interviewees, please see Appendix A.
68
‗good news…or something giving relief, [as] music to my ears‘ which included
anything that gave pleasure or release from worries or other tensions. Yet, she
maintained her view that, to be considered musical, a person must be able to ‗sing or
play a musical instrument‘. A discerning listener of music and keen dancer, this topic
was important to her. It was not long before two main themes emerged from her story.
Vi empathised with the young mother‘s situation. She believed that she would also have
doubted potential musicality of a child if the mother were unmusical; Lizzie‘s mother
was certain of her unmusical status because she could not even pick out tunes on a
guitar whereas her father and brother could play by ear. Vi understood:
…well you do [compare yourself to others] and I think when people first start out to
learn a musical instrument or learn to sing…they perhaps do have an inferiority
complex and…I wouldn‘t consider myself as being musical. I don‘t really consider
myself musical because I can‘t play…well I used to play the piano but I don‘t play
the piano any more.
Self-judgement became an issue as Vi compared her music making ability with that of
commercial artists:
…like I‘d say some people might consider themselves good singers and
their sounds come out as utter noise! I would be one of those. I would hate
to inflict that on someone else.
Her view was dominated by her belief that music is something that is performed and
then judged by various standards. She found some music to be:
…total noise…such as heavy metal, some screeching pop bands, heavy
opera…I can‘t tolerate screechy opera voices; she laughs, that just irritates
me, it just hits a nerve ‗n I‘d rather walk out. Some heavy classical music
also I just can‘t tolerate, so music like that I would consider noise.
Questions continued to emerge from Vi‘s interview. It soon became my turn to
be nervous; having transcribed and analysed her words, I presented Vi with my
précis of her perceptions together with questions that emerged from her data.
Vi is my neighbour. As a happy retiree, her music was important to her and I
was afraid that I might unsettle her; undermine her musical reality. She
commented:
I‘ve really been thinking hard the last few days.
You‘ve certainly got my brain cells goin‘! I tell ya!
69
She accepted the challenge to help with yet more queries; within a couple of
days she returned her carefully written pencilled responses which delivered
fine details and delivered useful background. For Vi, for individuals to be
considered musical, this meant that they could perform for someone else‘s
pleasure. Their performance needed to meet certain standards. She believed
that she was a good judge of performance and was convinced that she did not
qualify as a performer; she re-iterated her belief: ‗I don‘t really think I am
musical‘. Yet, she acknowledged her ability to appreciate music in nature and
good music made by others:
I can‘t sing…I don‘t really think I am musical. I enjoy listening to music
and I appreciate going to musical theatre but I wouldn‘t say I am musical
as a person, [however,] I can hum a tune with the radio…in that sense I
would be musical because I enjoy humming along with the radio.
The Talent Notion: Who the heck told them they could sing?
Vi recognised that she had the ability to ‗detect whether that piece of music is playing
flat or that singer is singing flat or their breathing is not right and it‘s upsetting the
continuity of the song‘. She knew what music could sound like when it was good, even
if she could not make it herself and she stated: ‗it just irritates me and I‘d rather walk
out if a person can‘t sing properly…and I think, who the heck told them they could sing?
While Vi referred to professional singers in this instance, her question raised the crucial
factor of significant others, like Lizzie‘s mother and those persons who were
instrumental in affecting the way individuals‘ form their perception of their personal
selves (Harter, 1997; Sternberg, 1998).
Vi declared that she did not criticise anyone if they were to ‗sing in the shower‘ for she
believed that ‗everyone is entitled to sing or make their music or noise,‘ yet harsh selfjudgement is evident as she protested:
I would love to be able to sing. [Vi laughs…self-conscious (like me)…she
continues,] knowing that I have a hopeless voice I would not like to inflict
my singing on someone else…like I‘d say some people might consider
themselves good singers and their sounds come out as utter noise - I would
be one of those…I would hate to inflict that on someone else. I did singing
at school and high school an‘ I just…I‘ve got one of those voices that just
fall all over the place. [She thinks for a while and continues] You can learn
to become musical…you know, if some people cannot play the piano or
guitar or whatever…if they say like ‗oh look - I‘m not musical, can you
teach me?‘ They can then turn into a musical person.
70
For a person to be seen as musical, Vi believed that ‗they‘d have to be able to project
themselves satisfactorily to other people as being musically talented‘. She did recognise
that this reality could lead people to ‗having an inferiority complex‘ regarding their
musicality and that this could affect their ability to learn to sing or play. Since Vi‘s
‗musical person‘ is one whose music making is easy to listen to, is ‗relaxing, inspiring
stirring or stimulating to the senses‘, she was convinced that she did not ‗fall into that
category‘. Such a standard, she believed was not within her reach because, if it were, it
would have ‗been obvious [that] she had potential to do the singing, dancing, or playing
the music‘ and she would have known that she was ‗musically inclined‘. Indeed, quite
how it would have ‗been obvious‘ is the question at the heart of this investigation. Vi
helped here in her response to my question: In what sort of ways might it have ‗been
obvious‘ that you are or are not musical?
In the making of music sense: I would have enjoyed piano lessons, or perhaps been
keen to learn another musical instrument. On the singing scene – family, friends
may have said, ‗Gee you have a good voice – why don‘t you take singing lessons?‘
No-one did!
This initial participant understood the importance of being recognised as musical.
Formal Music Learning: not a Joy to Remember
Recent research shows that parental support along with influences of social and cultural
environment are important for successful instrumental learning (Hargreaves, 1986;
O'Neill & Sloboda, 1997). A supportive environment is recognised as integral to most
successful learning (Sternberg, 1998); positive, non-threatening experiences are
significant motivating factors to music learning (Sloboda, 1996). Shuter-Dyson (1999)
argues that it is necessary to recognise the interdependence of aptitude, teaching and the
interest of the individual in the development of musical ability (P. 627). Rather than
being part of ‗magical properties of some sort of musical priesthood‘ (Davies, 1978, p.
15), success in music learning goes to those who have worked to develop high levels of
competence and who equip themselves to become the music makers in our society
(Davidson, Howe et al. 1997; Serafine 1988; Sloboda, 1996). Research indicates that
those who might not show any early interest or ability are not encouraged to pursue
learning and so they become mere spectators (Shuter-Dyson, 1999, P. 628).
Thus, while piano lessons were made available to Vi, active support of the learning
process was not, nor did there appear to be any genuine desire on her part to play this
71
instrument. That the lessons happened on an afternoon where it interrupted playing
outside with her friend also contributed to her lack of interest:
I was sort of pushed…well not pushed into it but as a kid Mum always got
me to play piano…you know do piano lessons… and I used to hate
practising…like…often when my piano teacher came ‘e used to call to the
house he would have to run up the street and get me from playing with my
girl friend you know I‘d forget all about my piano lessons an‘ dum Mum
‘d have to run up the street and come and say oh ―You know your piano
teacher‘s here. Did you forget about your piano? [She laughs,] well I can‘t
say that I really enjoyed learning the piano…
A love of dancing is central to Vi‘s life. Together with her husband, she enjoyed
‗dancing her little legs off‘ at dances and balls. She recognised that, from this point of
view she would be considered ‗a bit musical‘. However, she questioned her musicality
when it came to playing or singing and places this within her family setting:
…my family…my brother plays the guitar my Dad was a pretty good
piano player, and…there are certain members of our family that have a
‗musical‘ background that they‘ve been involved with…playing ‗musical‘
instruments but I‘ve never been that way inclined.
Vi‘s perception of music carried a value judgement that was dominated by music as
‗performance‘. A main focus throughout the forty-five minute interview, besides six
distinct references to music as performance, there were four references to the
importance of being a performer, and able to perform to ‗her‘ standard of singing or
playing. I suspected that this perception dominated her view to such an extent that it
interfered with her freedom to make her own music. Questions of self-judgement gave
rise to a fear of judgement by others. Because she knew that her dancing was fine, she
felt free to dance, whereas her singing could only happen when she was sure that no one
else could hear. With a laugh she confided:
I enjoy [singing] under the shower or something when nobody else is
around…I enjoy singing along with the radio…I suppose you would
classify me as being a bit musical in that sense.
Vi indicated that she would always encourage anyone who wanted to learn to sing or
play, even if she thought that they were not musical. She would detect whether or not
they sang with a good tone and could pitch the notes accurately, but could accept that:
‗they‘re probably still musical in themselves but they‘re not pleasant to listen to
musical‘. Although she refrained from any public music making, she would encourage
others to become involved:
72
…it‘s wonderful I think everybody should have a go...if we‘re talking
singing or instrumental now anything like that – yeah, go for it…music is
so relaxing. It‘s an out for anybody. I mean, it can get rid of tension,
stress…if they think they are a fantastic singer, let them go for it whether
they‘re good or bad or otherwise.
Vi had clearly prepared for her interview. Just before she left she commented that she
had ‗really been thinking hard over the last few days‘. Despite what contradictions
might be embedded in her data, Vi was convinced that her understanding was based on
good evidence. In her view, to be considered musical, a person must be able to perform
at a good standard so that they could please others. She was convinced that she was not
musical, despite the fact that she accepted others might consider themselves musical
simply because they enjoyed singing or playing.
Research suggests that the crucial factor affecting a person‘s developing a healthy sense
of their musicality rests in ‗positive early experiences‘. Sloboda and his colleagues
found that the important aspect is the enjoyment of listening where there are no
demands for the individual performance (1994, p. 353). After eight years of piano
lessons Vi believed that she could not play and vehemently declared her total lack of
any ability to sing. Despite believing that a person could learn to sing or play, she
questions: ‗me sing? [as she tumbles into her own answer] I have no voice to sing, Eve.
I would love to be able to sing!‘
Vance’s Version of what it means to be musical
Vance could not sing. The 75-year old retired technician kept himself fit with his gym,
gardening and dancing. As an enthusiastic teacher of ballroom dancing, Vance‘s whole
being revealed his joy in being engaged in something he loves. His enthusiasm and
commitment to the dance and to his students was palpable. For Vance, the salient issue
was that of self-evaluation. He knew that he was good at teaching people to dance, that
he moved well to music and yet he denied that he had any potential to sing or to
understand music.
I enjoy music…I don‘t know that I‘m musical. See, when you say to me
‗musical‘ I think, ‗can I play a musical instrument? Can I really absorb the
nuances of what‘s happening with all these different notes?‘
Vance‘s enthusiasm for dance was contagious. As he spoke, I could feel his excitement
and understood that, as a pubescent boy, given the choice between being in choir and
doing gymnastics, his decision was not difficult at all:
73
…the movement part of gymnastics…the control of my body…was far
more important to me…than being able to sing…and maybe I was satisfied
to put all my expression into movement.
Despite his obvious personal preference for gym and dance, he stopped to consider how
he might feel about singing. He concluded that he would always have to defer to those
other ‗clever‘ people who could sing and create the ‗mood‘ for him. While on the one
hand, Vance was convinced that, ‗if you can walk, you can dance,‘ on the other, he was
sure that he was born with no ability to sing:
Singing, I feel is more a gift. [I have] admiration for the people that do
singing and I just feel that it is a talent. You‘d most probably say ‗if I can
talk I should be able to sing‘. I don‘t see it as being as easy [and the reason
is because], most probably because I‘ve been able to do the movement bit
and I haven‘t done the other. Maybe you could teach me to sing – I don‘t
think so
As a teacher of ballroom dancing, he acknowledged his awareness of differences in
people‘s ability to learn; but his experience convinced him that, if the person wants to
learn, then he could help them to become a good dancer.
Many people seem to have a natural flair for dancing and can learn with
ease. You can tell straight away. [but] I can get them to all do it…but it
just takes a little longer and [you need to] get them to get a bit of
confidence in themselves. If they can walk – they can dance.
A dichotomous view emerged when he expressed optimism regarding the little girl
whose mother questioned her ability to learn to play the piano. He did not believe that,
just because the mother believed she was not musical, it meant that her daughter could
not learn to play. In a similar way that he could teach anyone to dance, he considered
that the young girl could learn to play. He acknowledged the important part played by
experience and learning when it comes to dancing and instrumental learning, yet he
maintained his bias towards the ‗talent‘ notion when he spoke of learning to sing.
Besides needing to have a natural ‗gift‘ for singing, Vance suggested that this was
merely a base requirement, and a person also needed drive and ambition if they were to
become a good singer. He held that excellence in performance was crucial when it came
to singing and so echoed Vi‘s conviction that to be considered musical as a singer, a
person needed to have talent.
74
Musical learning warranted if talent evident
Recent studies, however, question the validity of such a belief. In her work in Fiji, Joan
Russell (2001) noticed people singing ‗without self-consciousness‘, and recorded their
belief that ‗We were born to sing‘. As she researched children‘s imagination in
education in the U.S., Dee Russell (1998) observed children displaying skills that could
be mistaken for ‗innate talent‘ when these abilities were developed through educational
experiences. Yet both Vi and Vance held onto their perception that a gift was required
for singing, even while they also recognised the need for dedicated practice for potential
singers to hone their skills. In Vi‘s words
…if it was obvious that he or she had potential to do the singing, dancing, or play
the music, I would say immediately yes, they‘re musically inclined. They might not
be necessarily musically labelled yet because they might not have, as far as my
satisfaction of listening to music goes, they might not have quite reached that point
of things…
Despite her belief that practice could develop musical skills, she was adamant that she
would never be able to sing where others could hear her because
I don‘t like to be considered a prat! Other people would probably say – ‗who told
her she could sing!‘ I wouldn‘t want to inflict my poor singing skills on anyone in
public!
As with several other participants of my study, neither Vi nor Vance could identify with
the title for Walker's (2005) recent paper entitled: We all came out of Africa singing and
dancing and we have been doing it ever since. This title was a painful reminder that
some individuals in our society felt that they were unable to either sing or dance.
Vance revealed a deep admiration for people who could play and sing. His early
endeavour to learn the trombone was thwarted when he saved up to buy an instrument
only to be deceived when he was sold a ‗dud‘. It was not until one year after his big
purchase, when he had saved enough to pay for lessons, that he discovered the
instrument was no good. By then, his future savings were needed for his approaching
marriage so his trombone learning never did eventuate. However, his avid interest and
active listening continued as he admired contemporary music and musicians; he
wondered ‗how can composers produce all these fabulous tunes?‘
Vance saw musicians as being clever; he viewed music as something that required much
understanding. He revealed a deep admiration for those who have dedicated themselves
to mastering musical performance. While Vi acknowledged the effects of physical
75
enjoyment of music twice in her forty-five minute interview, Vance referred to this
aspect eleven times. For him, the physical impact of music and movement was
profound. He remembered being about thirteen years old, his voice was ‗starting to
break‘ when the teacher said:
Look I‘m sorry, boys you know, it‘s just that stage of life when that‘s changing –
leave it for a couple of years and then you‘ll be right. You can come back in the
choir again. ‗Oh gee sir,‘ Ha and so…‗Wow we‘re right we got into gymnastics.‘
So, I think, although I enjoyed being in the choir, the movement part of gymnastics,
the control of my body…was far more important to me…than being able to sing.
Was this a fairy tale? As she answered my written queries, Vance‘s wife, Vi wrote that
music only changed her behaviour if there happened to be ‗a dance floor and my partner
around, and I‘ll make a beeline for it!‘ She finished her response with:
Being able to dance to music gave me more confidence, and I met the man I
married! And we all live happily ever after! 
Whew! You owe me Mrs Ruddock!
(Hee hee!)
I did and I do owe both her and Vance. It was data such as theirs that enabled me to
recognise underlying themes that were relevant to these self-perceived non-musician
participants. Despite interviewing 27 other people, the understandings gleaned from Vi
and Vance rang through participant understandings. Music was perceived as a
performance where judgement determined acceptance; together with the notion of
talent, these aspects were seen to direct musical involvement.
Table 4: Vi and Vance: a comparison of views on musicality
Theme
Vi
Vance
Contradictions
Music as Performance
Sees performance in
two ways: public
capacity
private capacity
Music is a wonderful
thing clever people do.
Both perceive the
importance of ‗putting
in the hard yards‘ as
pre-requisites for music
learning thence
performance; yet
neither believe that
they could learn to be
acceptable as singers.
Judgement
Detects quality in
performed music –
potent aspect of
musical experience.
Strong negative selfjudgement re
performance ability.
More aware of
enjoyment and
appreciation of good
qualities than of
criticism of
inadequacies of
performers. Fine
judgement of rhythmic
aspect of dance music.
Negative self-
Prepared to give others
the ‗benefit of the
doubt‘ in regards to
learning to sing. Both
sure that they do not
have potential to sing
in public.
76
judgement re singing.
Physical Enjoyment
…stimulating to my
senses [2references in
interview]
If a person is
unfortunate enough not
to…be able to
appreciate music in
nature [he/she] may as
well be dead.
Physical impact of
music and movement is
profound [11
references in interview]
Vi is aware of
appreciation of her
dancing ability while
Vance allows his
response to the rhythm
to dominate. Yet Vi
judges people who
cannot appreciate the
sounds/rhythms of
nature as ‗unmusical‘.
Social Aspect
Lessons – alienation.
Listening – enjoyment
and involvement
Connection with others
through enjoying
listening, moving to
music.
Judgement of quality of
performance overrides
Vi‘s appreciation
whereas Vance admires
musicians as he uses
their work to connect
with others.
A musical person
Appreciation of music
including music in
nature
Doing – singing or
playing
Someone who plays an
instrument and
understands what is
happening to make
such nuances.
For Vi, Judgement of
skills dominates while
Vance appreciates
knowledge and work of
musician.
The Talent Notion
Presents the view that
she cannot play well
and has no voice to
sing.
‗You need a gift to be
able to sing. You can
tell straight away if a
person is a natural at
dancing‘ [but anyone
can learn].
Both believe that a
‗gift‘ is essential for a
person to be able to
sing. But they
recognise the important
part that learning and
practice can play.
Effects of private
music lessons
Negative memories of
separation from play
and family involvement
Planned for, but never
experienced
instrumental lessons.
Vi ‗learned‘ that she
was not musical; Vance
has more realistic
notion than he could
have learned if he had
had an opportunity.
Underlying
contradictions
Singing or playing
benefits people but
‗only some people are
musical‘ because only
some can perform to a
good standard. Yet ‗a
musical person is one
who appreciates‘
manmade music or
sounds in nature. You
can learn to become
‗musical‘ because [a
good teacher] can then
turn you into a
‗musical‘ person.
‗Anyone can learn‘ to
dance or to play an
instrument but you
need a ‗gift‘ to sing.
Experience and
learning lead to
dancing and playing
but ‗you need a gift to
be able to sing‘.
People can learn; but
you have to be born
with a ‗gift‘ to be able
to sing.
Understanding
Not particularly an
issue.
Musicians are clever
and can understand
about how the sounds
are put together to
make effects.
Vi had learned ‗the
basics‘ from her piano
lessons: for her
understanding is not an
issue. It is for Vance,
who believes that
musicians know
something he cannot
77
know.
Connection
Appreciation of music
as entertainment.
Vital personal
connection with many
different genres.
For Vi, appreciation of
performance skills
overrides personal
response to music.
Private/Public
I wouldn‘t think I was
a good singer. I enjoy
singing under the
shower or along with
the radio when nobody
else is around.
I‘m not musical enough
to make my own music
but I love dancing just
about anywhere – at
home or in public.
Performance aspect
undermines personal
enjoyment of singing if
‗others‘ might hear.
Initial Pilot Interviews: Issues and directions
Reflecting on understandings from Vi and Vance confirmed that there is a belief, at
least by two individuals, that a person needs to be born with natural musical talent to be
considered musical and this was a prerequisite to be able to play an instrument or to
sing. These initial pilot interviewees did reveal essential features of music in our lives
and raised a number of issues. Vi and Vance saw music as an important part of life that
enhanced everyday living and promoted social connection. Both, however, viewed
music as performance, as something to be judged.
They perceived music as a component of everyday life where we used our discernment
to choose which music is right for us as consumers of other musical people‘s work.
Information from their data raised questions regarding the relationship of formal music
learning and issues of self-judgement. As I analysed their words and continued with
extensive literature searches, I began the task of finding non-musicians who might
represent disparate views and who might be willing to take part in this research.
‘Blue’ blows in
With some old friends, we acquire grapes, crush them, set the juice to settle and then
transfer it to a vat to bubble away, mature, then bottle. It is at such a wine bottling that a
potential informant has his say. Having called in to see his brother, ‗Blue‘, an animal
trainer, understands exactly what it means to be musical, ‗I love my music. I can sing all
my songs from the 50‘s, 60‘s and 70‘s. Not the 80‘s and 90‘s. That‘s not my style!‘ To
him, ‗the kid‘s music of 80‘s/90‘s is not music, ‗but it is music for those who grow up
with it and like it. I haven‘t got a voice – but I can sing all the songs, know all the
78
words...can tell you who sang the songs and the date they sang them…I don‘t reckon
that the kids today know their music in the same way. There‘s just too much to know!‘
Personality of performers and knowledge of songs he knows are high on his musical
screen. ‗Blue‘ is certain that, not only is he musical, but that he can tell whether others
are musical. He interrogates his twenty-two year old nephew. There‘s no way this
young bloke knows as much about his music (contemporary popular music) as ‗Blue‘
knows about his! Ownership and pride of knowing are clearly implied. The
comparatively brief proclamation from ‗Blue‘ added important views.
Table 5 ‗Blue‘: Pride and Talent
‗Blue‘s‘ Beliefs
Pride in knowing
musical knowledge (about
songs and artists) means
that you are musical
Singing voice is innate
you have a voice or you do
not, so you can sing or you
cannot
This belief is also held by
Vi and Vance
Views of Vi and Vance seem to be of another world. Is it possible that all perceptions of
what it is to be musical would be so diverse? It is crucial to seek other understandings
that could make it possible to form views that might more accurately represent our
conflicting ways of seeing ourselves as musical beings.
Rhonda
Seeking a younger informant, I approached a twenty-seven year old high school teacher
who loved listening to music in her car. When she realised that the study involved
perceptions of musicality, she was keen to have her say. She felt that she really knew
about her young students and was willing to present her understandings. Her
perceptions were grounded both in her observations of her students and from her own
reality. Considering her students‘ lives first, gave her confidence to express her personal
experiences that affected her view of her own musicality and how this impacted on
musical involvement in her life.
79
Initially, she split music into two opposing realities. She saw herself as being musical
when music was considered to be something that was part of education or as something
that was enjoyable to listen to. She knew, however, that she was not musical when it
came to making her own music. While her interview was just over an hour long, she
made six references to being ‗not musical‘. Her memories of early attempts to play an
instrument in school were clouded by her feelings of not being as good as her brother or
sister. Her perceptions were that they could already read the music scores when they
were learning to play in the primary school classroom, whereas she could not. It was her
view that this lack of knowing, together with her poor rhythmic skills meant that she
was unlikely to ever make her own music in a satisfying way. Her responses to queries
about how she considered others as musical people all referred to their abilities to play
instruments, to be able to dance or to sing with style. As with the earlier informants, the
performance involved in the making of music was the most important thing. Indeed, it
was this emphasis on ‗performance‘ that led the participants to claim their non-musical
status.
Speaking from her own perspective and from her observations of her students, she
repeatedly mentioned the self-consciousness that people feel when doing something that
might make them appear to be different. She stresses that doing a musical thing
threatened to be embarrassing for her. She appeared to think that such knowledge was
self-evident:
…everyone walks along, but not everyone plays musical instruments. Everyone
walks. But not everyone plays instruments.
I wouldn’t sing out in public
Rhonda‘s view reflected those voiced by Vi, twenty years her senior. As she considered
how she felt about singing in public, the young teacher reflected about the nature of our
society:
Yeah I love singing. But I wouldn‘t sing out in public ‗cos I don‘t think I‘ve
got the voice to sing out in public. I sing at home with my family or I might
sing here if we were having a Christmas carols or whatever or, you know, if
you wanted to do a few beats of something yeah I‘d give it a go…but, I
don‘t know if its just…maybe its just the society we live in and it‘s the
judgemental nature of and the critical nature of people?
Unlike Vi, she did not appear to be a part of the panel of people judges, but
rather, an individual who was happy to maintain her ‗teacher‘ mode where she
80
saw her task as one of nurturing others to extend their capabilities. The young
school teacher‘s view focussed not only on her lack of musical ability, but on
the disparity between the private and public nature of music making. Her
articulation of this separation made her position clear:
…if you go to the pubs say or you go out to a restaurant and you get up and
start singing people would look at you like…which mental institution has
she just gotten out of you know, or… how could she possibly sing look at
her she‘s revolting or [breathes in] you know, it‘s the worst thing I‘ve ever
heard so there‘s a real tendency to sort of pick at other people? [by singing
in public] you are drawing your attention to yourself its like wearing you
know if you go out wearing something that‘s a really loud colour like a- a
vivid green or a bright fluoro pink like people would just like look at you
and think oh my god she‘s just so different from everybody else
An Overview of Rhonda’s Perceptions
Themes
Rhonda‘s Perceptions
Positive effects
of music
I find some music very motivational…emotionally stirring like it
actually brings emotion into you.
[…uses music as motivation in school classes] as a reward, some
students um or some classes were allowed to have music from
CD‘s so they would bring in [favourite] CD‘s.
Two views of
musical
Musical in playing instruments - no
musical in enjoying music – yes.
People do music
…kids even make music themselves on the desk or with their
hands or with their pen.
Music as social
tool
People are careful to choose music that will make them accepted
by the group
Music as
performance
You only make music in public if you are trained to play or sing
Private music
making only
Not normal for untalented to make music in public
Affective power
of music
It makes you feel good it is ‗emotionally stirring like it actually
brings emotion into you‘
Towards the never picked
While some details of pilot interviewees Rhonda, Ada, Nell and Harry are reported in ‘I
am unmusical!’: the verdict of self-judgement (Ruddock & Leong, 2005), these
individuals continued to participate in my on-going research; their stories grew in depth
to reveal telling details of how we distance ourselves from our potential to be musical
and along with Vi and Vance, their insights are absorbed into the ballad of the never
81
picked (details regarding the ballad follow in the section below). With the exception of
‗Blue‘ the pilot interviewees presented perspectives of individuals who saw themselves
as being ‗not musical at all‘. They were, however, happy to acknowledge the important
part that music played in their lives from an ‗appreciative‘ aspect. Their data suggested
they shared a belief that individuals were born musical or they were not; not one of
these individuals felt that they were free to express themselves musically. Rather, they
deferred to those ‗talented‘ others who were born with a gift. Figure 2 ‗Continuum‘ of
Pilot Interviewees represents the six pilot interviewees‘ relative positions on a
continuum of musicality; their placement is consistent with their early musical
experiences at home and at school.
Nell
Harry
Rhonda
NHP/NA
NHP/MA
MPS/MA
/NMP/
NHP
Vi
MPS/MA
/NMP/
NHP
Vance
Ada
MPS/MA
/NMP/
NHP
MPS/MA
M = Musical P = Performer H = Home (non-public place) S = Social (public place) N = Not

MP = Musical as competent performer (sing or play privately and in public)

MPH = Musical as performer at home

MPS = Musical as social performer with others

MA = Musical as appreciator

NMP = Not musical as solo performer in public

NHP = Not musical as non-public performer

NA = Not musical as appreciator (do not listen or appreciate)
Figure 2 ‘Continuum’ of Pilot Interviewees
Careful recording of data followed by detailed coding and analysis did make it possible
to present clear reports of many aspects of participants‘ musical involvement; it also
82
raised some issues relating to this phenomenon of musicality. Yet, such writing did not
reflect an innate yet ‗hidden‘ musicality of these self-perceived non-musical
participants; it did not capture a composite rhythmic flow of their voices. However, as I
combined phrases from participant data that revealed incidents and perceptions relating
to their musical reality the ballad of the never picked8 sings to tell the participants‘
rhythmically human tale.
The Ballad of the never picked
It’s kind of primeval but no-one’s given me
An affinity with music – I don’t have the key
My mother wanted one of us to play
None of my family is musical I would say.9
[Nell, Caterina, Susan]
As more participants told their stories, more conflict became evident in their
perceptions. They denied their own musicality while simultaneously speaking of their
enjoyment of music and of its potent effects on their lives. Their experiences spelled out
confusions between their feelings of being musical and their ‗knowing‘ that they were
‗not musical.‘ My study became more finely focussed on the dichotomy of music as
being a universal characteristic of humanity and music being an inherent gift for the
favoured few. The contrasting views of Harry and Sonya show the distance between the
two extremes, where being musical
…is a thing one is or one isn’t (Harry)
…or
…everyone has got music in them…it‘s just a question of bringing it out
(Sonya)
Sonya Speaks
Unlike Harry, Sonya‘s view of musicality was inclusive. She was not apparently
constricted by any version of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) and saw music as
a human characteristic that was shared in varying degrees by everyone. Like Harry,
Sonya had also completed a PhD in History, and was familiar with the contemplative
process. Although temporarily incapacitated with a leg injury, she appeared to be happy
to speak of her feelings and experiences about music in her life. She showed no
8
See Appendixes B and C for The ballad of the never picked
Ballad stanzas use participants‘ words only and are italicised throughout this chapter. Phrases are
juxtaposed to enhance meaning and some stanzas include multiple participant contributions [names in
square brackets at the end of relevant lines indicate which participant data are used]. They are written as
lyrics to the air, ‗Lord Randal, No. 12‘ from the Child collection (reproduced in Trapp, J. B., 1973).
9
83
evidence of any defensive barriers like the facetious qualities that underlaid Harry‘s
entertaining but nevertheless genial text. Despite the fact that she felt that she was
speaking outside her area of expertise, her opening comments encapsulated the essence
of my quest:
Interview Data
Eve
So, you‘ve actually realised what it is that we‘re trying to
investigate…to try and tease out somehow what people understand
by the word ‗musical‘ or ‗music‘. Would you like to make a few
comments about what music might mean…?
Sonya Well yes,…you told me exactly what you wanted. You told me
about the lady that said she wasn‘t musical…as soon as you said that
what you were investigating is perceptions of what is musical and
what is being not musical and I think that one of the really sad
things about Australian society and it might be other societies too, is
that people grow up with ideas that are implanted at an early
age about the fact that they are not talented in this of that direction
and if that‘s implanted as firmly as it often has been in the past, it’s
very hard to change later in life.
So as to what‘s ‗musical‘ I think that‘s harder to think about than
understanding what people mean when they say they are not
musical. However, what do I mean by ‗musical‘? Well, my
perception…what musical is about…as a person…is being
somebody who relates to sound…who can get meaning and emotion
from sound and particularly sound that‘s organised in certain ways,
but…the beginnings of musicality needn‘t have anything to do with
anyone playing music as such. I think it‘s about having the rhythms
and timbre, speech patterns…I think mothers talking to babies and
children‘s babble is the first beginning of a feeling of
musicality…it‘s the organization of rhythm and tone and pitch. It‘s
just inherent and maybe for some people, it‘s more inherent than
others – obviously…people who can hear well are going to hear
better, but the whole business of rhythm and pitch…and timing
seems to be the basis of musicality. Now that could be because I
think I respond more to rhythm than anything else and I think I
always have, so I‘m probably talking out of my own experience. But
I think it‘s really important to expose children at a very early age to
sounds because that fixes…is the basis of musicality. So my
perception of someone who‘s musical is someone who has an ability
to appreciate emotions and patterns and get aesthetic pleasure out of
sound.
Sonya appeared to present a synthesis of my argument. When contrasted with
perceptions from Harry, I believed that I had a genuine contrasting view. I suspected
that Sonya has not yet revealed her deeper musical reality, for she was fully occupied
84
with her own research and writing. It seemed that her most occupied life left minimal
room for regrets in any other facets of her life. Yet, her later emails revealed an
inexorable continuum to her inner knowing and as her words swam through my
consciousness, they blended with understandings from other participants. This
amorphous cacophony struggled towards meaning. Words and actions tussled to make
sense. As I analysed and coded data into thematic tables it became clear that it was the
spoken words of participants themselves that carried immediacy; that portrayed human
meaning. As I noted at the end of Chapter Three, it was almost three years later, when,
after a series of emailed questions and responses, Sonya was to write:
And finally, I don't consider myself 'musical'. I'm a keen appreciator of music.
Like ‗Meg‘ [a later participant], I've always loved the music of birdsong, water
gurgling and other environmental sounds. I'd love to be a proficient practitioner,
but I'm not. So I don't regard myself anywhere in relation to a practising
musician. I'm assured that I can't sing in tune and the only thing I can play is a
CD. I'm not bad at tapping out a rhythm on anything to hand though. I'm not
even aware that I do it, and find my fingers tapping and feet drumming in the
most unlikely circumstances. Yes, I enjoy it. No, I can't do it.
Participant conversations delivered a mass of data. Complexities grew as I sought new
interviewees who I suspected might present different views. Further literature research
verified that, despite the fact that most humans are as ‗wired‘ for making music, as they
are for learning language and developing mathematical and motor skills (Sloboda, 1996,
p. 108), 19 out of 28 individuals in my study (participant 29 was yet to make his
entrance) considered themselves to be ‗not musical.‘ Most of these individuals revealed
an uneasy relationship with their musicality. Surprise, serendipity (Punch, 1998) and
contradictions were consistent elements as this qualitative investigation and drove
inexorably towards questions that raised doubts regarding the rational base upon which
our society is presumed to rest. Since music is a natural, ‗brute‘ fact of life (Searle,
1995) I questioned how it is that these individuals have come to feel ‗not musical‘ and
to exclude themselves from music making activities.
As I deliberately sought new participants who might have had different self-perceptions,
unsuspected feelings of being ‗not musical‘ continued to emerge. Individual stories,
hidden from everyday view, melded to reflect experiences that affected self-view;
participant voices rang with connections and rejections following attempts to engage in
music making. I began to hear poetry embedded in text as words tumbled together to
reflect thoughts and understandings of this group of self-nominated non-musicians. A
85
composite tale with important implications for education and for music in our society
began to emerge.
Western perceptions nominate the never picked
The educator and the ‘drop-out’
Qualitative analysis continued to show that participant perceptions matched dominant
Western beliefs where individuals are considered to be musical only if they can prove
their musicality by singing or playing. Teacher educator Harry explained that he could
know whether his grandchildren were musical unless they could do something that
demonstrated that they were ‗talented or appreciative.‘ Such thinking lies
uncomfortably with a growing substantiation of universal human musicality (Tramo,
2001) and it indicated an unnatural distancing from an essential human attribute. For a
professional educator like Harry, it also revealed a surprising ‗blind-spot‘ in his
awareness of the learning process. He was not alone amongst educators, however, for
his belief that musical ability depends upon possessing a natural talent qualifies him to
join the 75% of education professionals in England (Sloboda, 1996, p. 108). Knowledge
that musical development depended on a combination of a ‗bit of nature, a bit of
nurture, like everything else‘ (Zatorre, 1994 cited in Abbott, 2002) was found to be
missing (Davidson, Howe et al., 1997). While the work of Peretz (2005) revealed that a
small number of humans lacked musical intelligence, non-musician experiences in my
study indicated that the common practice of labelling individuals as ‗musical‘ or
‗unmusical‘ was both inappropriate and unhelpful.
Harry revealed the pervasive predominance of judgement when he considered an
individual‘s ability to perform. On the one hand, he mentioned ‗the central and defining
role‘ that music had played at particular times in his life and he also considered that to
be musical could mean being ‗appreciative‘ or ‗talented.‘ Despite this, there was a
persistent mantra underlying our extensive contact: he insisted that he was ‗not
musical‘. He began to adopt this self-view in his late teens, following his experience of
a few disappointing trumpet lessons. Retreating from direct first person dialogue, he
judged that:
The…possibility was there but it was not something which came easily…and
would have required much greater effort and commitment than I was willing to
invest in that stage…that may be partly due to the [lack] of feedback of
instantaneous success or the disappointment that the results were not as
attractive as one might‘ve wished.
86
Although as a participant Harry found it daunting to be in a study about which he had
major reservations, as an educator he maintained an empathetic acceptance of and
encouragement for my research. His voice blended with that of Chas, a 19-year old
university drop-out who explained that, ‗with aptitude I‘m talking about ability and
motivation. If I was motivated I could overcome my lack of natural ability.‘ These
participants were bemused that I should pursue this investigation since they were
convinced that giftedness for music-making is a prerequisite for playing or singing.
You’re going to have big trouble anyway.
I’m not musical cos I can’t play.
But when in a mess, to go beyond that
I can be uplifted and helped by an ol’ favourite track. [Harry]
I would’ve assumed that you would’ve known
I wasn’t very good, I hardly outshone
Others in the class…wasn’t good straight away
If I had a propensity for music I would play. [Chas]
Although Chas claimed to have a ‗lack of natural ability‘ he simultaneously
acknowledged the important part that music played in his life. He described how it
could act as a conduit for social connections and how it could be a means of engaging
with life:
You could argue that humans are a musical species. The beating of drums…is a
very primeval thing. As a rule, all humans are musical and do have a response
to music. When you‘re listening in a group, you can read responses of others.
You can look at someone and think you‘re thinking what I‘m feeling about this
music – this is real cool. I am a musical being but I am a consumer of music,
not a connoisseur, but a real enthusiast…and have real appreciation. I start to
have ‗withdrawals‘ if I don‘t listen to music.
Vic confirms the ‘talent account’10
I carefully combed through participant data, recorded researcher observations and
reflections, fine-tuned categorisations and developed cross-case analyses. Just when I
believed that I had achieved data saturation (Glaser & Strauss 1967; Minichiello, Aroni
et al., 1995) of emergent categories for this study, my vacuum cleaner broke down and
another participant appeared: Vic the vacuum repair man became Participant Number
29. As I waited for Vic‘s computer to print out an invoice for the repairs, I decided to
ask him a question. He seemed to be very friendly and did appear not to mind as I
10
Please refer to Note 2 for a comment on the ‗talent account‘ (See Howe et al, 1998, p. 399).
87
asked him if he thought he was a musical person. Vic surprised me: ‗Nah. Absolutely
not. Can‘t stand it to be honest.‘ Phrases from actual comments at this first meeting and
from a later interview juxtapose to tell his story:
My Dad took up music with the Merchant Marines.
Can’t stand it to be honest. Don’t play anything.
When my Dad was playing – yeah we used to nick off
And it probably did affect the way I that I felt.
My brother, had a crack at the ol’ man’s clarinet,
Dad just got rid of it but my brother found one at the tip.
My son’s right into music, much better than me,
He can hold a tune and likes Green Day and ACDC.
My school was big time on music but I’d
Rather do detention and used to refuse.
I ended up getting the strap…it only hurt
For a little minute But the music went on forever.
No no no. No regrets. Footy’ s11 the thing.
I’m singin’ that song only when the Eagles win.
You feel pumped…and jumpin’ outta your skin.
I’ve got my beer and the footy - don’t play anything. [Vic]
One fleeting reference to his son was the only brief exception to Vic‘s negative attitude
to music during our initial conversation where antipathy towards his father‘s constant
clarinet playing dominated. His own inability to find a way to cover the appropriate
holes on the recorder cemented his negative self-view of his musical potential and he
went to great lengths to avoid any music activities at school.
Six months later, however, when we met for an official interview, not only did he speak
proudly about his son‘s musical prowess, he gave an impression of liking music. Asked
to comment on several recorded perceptions from other participants, he agreed that
‗music is part of our primeval heritage,‘ and assured me that he fitted the ‗not musical‘
mould. He said that he did believe that people were born ‗musical‘ or ‗not musical‘ and
volunteered his final conviction:
I reckon they are.
Like you‘re born to play football.
Born with a gift.
Sort of in your blood I reckon.
Wasn‘t in mine though!
11
Australian Rules Football
88
Minimal early learning opportunities led Harry, Chas and Vic to believe that they lacked
talent because they could not immediately play a musical instrument. In their
recognition that only a minority of our population ‗do‘ music, however, Davidson and
her colleagues (1997) attributed perceptions of being ‗not musical‘ to a lack of
awareness of the music learning process (p. 189).
The never picked
While Harry and Vic accepted their non-musical status without question, despite her
eventual acceptance of her own inability to do music, 63-year-old Sonya believed that
human musicality was inherent and that all people had a right to full musical
participation. Even as a child, her belief in everyone‘s intrinsic musicality survived four
testing years of piano lessons where memories of boredom predominated and where she
could not see that the process:
…was much about music…I was a terrible student. Interestingly, I was far better
at theory than I ever was at practice. But…I don‘t know why that was and I
think…Miss Keypunch was a terrible teacher basically. All that you had to do
was keep on pumping, it seemed to me. I could pump alright but I didn‘t fancy
that.
What did upset her, and where her hurt remained palpable fifty years on, was evident in
her admission that she ‗was accused of having no sense of rhythm [and was] chucked
out of the job‘ just as she was feeling proud to be the leader, marching her class back
into their room after an assembly.
When Sonya, an erudite historian, recalled her childhood I was entirely unaware of the
passion about to erupt. Speaking of herself as a ‗musical‘ person according to my
definition of the term, she understood my project and explained:
I think that one of the really sad things about Australian society and it might be
other societies too…is that people grow up with ideas that are implanted at an
early age about the fact that they are not talented in this or that direction and if
that‘s implanted as firmly as it often has been in the past, it‘s very hard to
change later in life. I do consider myself musical if you include enjoyment and a
passionate commitment to helping others enjoy it too. I love to clap and dance
along to the music and I love to listen. I want to move not just with the beat but
the emotion that I hear in it. When it swells to an uplifting climax, I want to
spread my arms and raise my hands to follow that movement too.
Her strong belief in human musicality exacerbated the frustration Sonya experienced at
school where her musical responses were undermined. She considered the crucial role
played by teachers:
89
Perceptive teachers can add immeasurably to a child's capacity to appreciate
and/or practise [music]. Conversely, imperceptive, insensitive teachers can do
immeasurable damage to a child's interest in music and capacity to enjoy, let
alone perform, it. I first realised that I couldn't sing when I was never picked for
singing at school.
In her opening interview I heard gentle yet precise articulation as Sonya recalled several
childhood experiences. She remembered feelings ‗of sheer delight at music…at
kindergarten…I was lucky to have an absolutely wonderful kindergarten teacher.‘ As
she spoke, there was a subtle change in emotion as a later memory took over. She
remembered that, at age eight, she had to face an ‗awful year‘ at a new school. Rhythms
of speech tightened, pace quickened and Sonya delivered pure poetry:
It was a very prized thing to be
the leader to your class group marching into assembly
and I got to be leader
and I was chucked out of the job
cos12 I was no good!
And the reason was because I was indeed marching on every beat
But they wanted it every second beat
‗Cos the music was too fast…
And…and I was accused of having
No sense of rhythm!
And even at age 8 I knew that to be untrue,
and…and not only…no sense of rhythm
but having no sense of music
and I was bitterly frustrated
absolutely.
Sudden and raw, her words, ‗‗cos I was no good‘ revealed her regret. I heard echoes of a
hurt not extinguished. It was three years after this interview when Sonya wrote in an
email that this strong response was ‗a child‘s reaction to injustice‘. She explained that
she felt ‗bitter that adults could be so stupid!‘ Indeed, it was in the voice of Sonya and
through the intrinsic musicality of her words that I first imagined this story of selfperceived non-musicians‘ musicality as a ballad. As I analysed her interview, notes and
emails, a story emerged of natural musicality thwarted by the negative judgement of
others:
And I got to be leader; chucked out of the job
Accused of no sense of rhythm…I was no good!
And no sense of music? Even at age 8 I knew
I was bitterly frustrated, knew that to be untrue.
12
Because
90
Wasn’t picked as a dancer which was a great shame,
I first realised that I couldn't sing
When never picked at school, bitter that adults could be
So stupid, not have a better grasp of musical ability.
Always moved with a beat, fingers tap and feet drum,
I couldn't sing the high notes, so transposed them down
I’m assured I can't sing in tune I accept ruefully
And the only thing I can play is a CD. [Sonya]
Sony‘s last email not only reiterated her love of music but her acceptance that she was
not musical. She finished with a wish that she could be ‗a proficient practitioner,‘
something that, she had learned, was simply not possible:
I think I first realised that I couldn't sing when I was never picked for singing at
school. I really enjoyed practising with my high school choir but was never
included in any special group. I enjoyed singing while washing-up or travelling
in the car, but I got the idea that other people didn't enjoy hearing me that much.
I'm assured that I can't sing in tune and the only thing I can play is a CD.
Learning to be the never picked
A musical person has a natural ability, an innate gift in them…I am probably the most unmusical
person you’ve ever interviewed. [Office worker, Caterina]
As mentioned in Chapter Two, ‗demusicalization‘ (Small, 1998, p. 212), has been
considered to be a process where negative responses to attempts at making music
undermined musical development. Small attributed the focus towards finding students
with the potential to become ‗talented professionals‘ (p. 212) as one major cause of
‗silenced others‘. Yet schools did not carry sole responsibility; instances of
‗demusicalization‘ were part of everyday events and could leave individuals believing
that they lacked essential musical ability. An American music educator (personal
communication) regretted that he was denied the opportunity to give his grandchildren
drums as a gift and he reported hearing their busy parents yell, ‗Stop making that noise,‘
when their children moved rhythmically or made experimental pitch utterances. This
response to instances of early music making contrasted with the smiling encouragement
that was given to his grandchildrens‘ early babble. Whereas that was encouraged and
recognised as an intrinsic part of essential language learning, early music making of
these was heard as mere noise.
91
Negative input may not be overt (as it was in this case). Instances from this study
revealed that it came from the community at large, from private music lessons and from
the school classroom. Several participants explained how they began to feel that they
had no potential to sing when nobody seemed to enjoy hearing them; although he could
not recall how, by the time he was eight years old, university drop-out Chas ‗knew‘ that
he did not have a potential for music. Two male participants grew up believing that they
could not sing after teachers asked them to mime in class and six participants described
their formal music lessons as the catalyst for their negative musical self-view.
Ongoing inductive processes of this research produced unexplained contradictions that
painted a societal reality which undermined authentic human action. Despite music
being recognised as a vibrant means of engaging with life, it would appear that our
‗judgemental‘ society could be one as described by Rhonda; one that could condone an
educational practice that does little to address individual musical development. When
forty year old Jim was told to mime in his compulsory singing Year 7 activity, for
instance, he thought: ‗I‘ll never be a rock star [and, at the time] thought it was funny.
Just accepted it. Later on – looking back, [he] thought the teacher could have been
encouraging.‘ Such evidence suggested a reality where only some individuals got a
chance to do music in our society; a chance where luck often determined who would
experience developmental music opportunities. It was important to record these
experiences that thwarted instinctive musical development and addressed the
misconceived notion that it is not normal to do music unless an individual is born
‗gifted‘. Using everyday experiences of participants, Figure 3 traces an ‗unnatural‘ path
to a self-perception of being ‗not musical.‘
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Instinctive Response
Stop making
that noise!
―You have a
good voice‖
No one did say!
Lack of Encouragement
Can you please
mime?
Not normal to do music
unless
You’re gifted
Musical skills arrested
Everyone walks
along, not everyone
plays or sings.
I felt it was a foreign
language – I just
couldn‘t grasp it.
It‘s as if someone
hasn‘t given me the
key.
I’m Not Musical !
I accept ruefully,
the only thing I can
play is a CD.
Figure 3: The ‗Unnatural‘ Path of the never picked
As she reflected on her perceptions of being musical, twenty-seven year-old high school
teacher, Rhonda considered that:
I didn‘t play a musical instrument because I felt that I just was shocking when I
did try – and that everyone else would think that I didn‘t know how to do it– do
it right. I love singing. But I wouldn‘t sing…out in public…cos I don‘t think
I‘ve got the voice to sing out in public…it would be embarrassing.
Rhonda‘s understanding was in line with beliefs of twenty-four of the twenty-nine
participants where they revealed an intimidation by ‗the judgemental nature of and the
critical nature of people‘:
You fear a mistake, don’t know what to do
Have no voice to sing an’ they’re judging you
Such a hopeless voice but I’d love to sing
Look at her! Revolting and it’s the worst thing! [Rhonda]
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You have a good voice? No-one did say!
Not terribly musical. I cannot play. [Vi]
Other clever people sing and create for me
The sound and the mood that makes me happy. [Vance]
From the horse’s mouth
Eighty-two year old Scottish farmer, Jock, spoke of ‗the great honour it is to be able to
achieve success‘ in performance. He was convinced that a person was either born
musical or they were not. Speaking of his sister, he said: ‗her and music didn‘t get on
very well together, they didn‘t agree.‘ His niece, however, was different for ‗she
must‘ve got her genes from her father. His acceptance that musicality was an accident
of genetic heritage was certain:
Aye…well I told you last time I wasn‘t very musical I recognise tunes but I
can‘t play any instrument. Oh, they [my parents] wasna musical. At least my
father wasna…a wee bit o‘ music in my mother‘s side there…there was no
music in our house…there was nothing like that in our house. We didna have
this musical connection.
Jock was wily and sharp; not only did his words illustrate the widespread influence of
the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998), but a quick twinkle in his eye warned me of a
‗slight‘ in my questioning technique. His amusement was an immediate response as I
found myself guilty of asking a ‗leading question‘ (Patton, 1990, p. 318).
Eve
So…You did sing around a bit as a kid…like that sort of song?
Jock
Ah just…but I never…thought I was any good at it…and I never
got any encouragement.
Eve
You were never any good at it?
Jock
That‘s right. I never got any encouragement from anybody…
Eve
But probably none of the other kids did much either did they…at
that time? Except for the ones…
Jock
Aye. Except the ones that were kinda good at it anyway.
Eve
And those kids…they came from homes where…it maybe
happened…?
Jock
A ha.
Eve
Am I making this up…or
Jock
No no. No no. You‘re dead right there.
Eve
Cos…it‘s important that I don‘t…that I don‘t say something…
Jock
…goes into my mouth…
Eve
…yeah exactly.
Jock
…into the horse‘s mouth.
We were sitting at a table with the tape recorder between us and he had just explained
that, to be musical, you needed to have ‗a gift for it…have the artistic thing in you‘. He
94
continued to inform me that he ‗has no inclination for music at all,‘ as I rose to go and
put the kettle on. It was time to have a break and a cup of tea. I said, ‗But listen, the
other day when we were walking out there, you were going to sing ten green bottles.‘
Walking away, I was surprised to hear ‗…hanging on the wall‘…indeed, Jock sang that
song all the way through to its one bottle end. He sang alone, grin on face, foot tapping
in time.
Jock‘s sentiment echoed that of twelve other participants who felt they were not
encouraged in early attempts at music making. His words traced a conviction of not
being musical right back to his childhood. Along with Sonya and others in this study,
this individual told a tale of unnatural acceptance.
You have a good voice? No-one did say!
Not terribly musical. I cannot play. [Vi]
But I really believe everyone’s got music in them, [Sonya]
It is part of our lives and our expression. [Caterina]
Oh, she did’na dance, did’na do anything,
We didna have this musical connection.
So Aunty Jean must’ve got her genes from her father
And Peg, she’s got the artistic thing in her. [Jock]
Initial analysis of participant data revealed unexplained contradictions that, after further
reading and comparison of cases, indicated a social reality that undermined human
action. Ever conscious of the pervasive presence of my own subjectivity, I sought to
engage in a research practice that would reduce its impact and allow participants an
authentic voice. To this end, I followed the rigorous procedures designed to minimise
researcher domination and highlight participant understandings. Use of tables helped to
clarify emerging categories and to develop themes. They also functioned as a means
towards cross-case comparisons (Miles & Huberman, 1984). As they exposed the
negative effects of minimal encouragement for music making, they revealed an
inexorable path to feeling ‗not musical‘ which happened not only in the general
community, but was evident in some formal music learning. In the following excerpt
from tables used to facilitate the journey to understanding, participants‘ own words
illustrate how a general perception or particular events could lead to self-perceptions of
being ‗not musical‘.
95
Table 6: Raw data reveal non-musical journeys
Participant
Event
Outcome
Self-Perception
Jock
I never got any
encouragement
from anybody…
I have no
inclination for
music at all.
I‘m not very musical. I
recognise tunes but I
can‘t play any
instrument.
Harry
I had some trumpet
lessons (in late
teens) to see
whether I could
make it work.
Disappointed that
the results were not
as attractive as I
might‘ve wished.
…not gifted with a
musical talent. Cannot
sing, not even in the
shower.
Nell
I had guitar lessons
for six months. I
really did want to
do that.
I couldn‘t do it. I
didn‘t like it. I
didn‘t understand
what a note was.
I just felt it was a foreign
language and I just
couldn‘t grasp it.
Chas
I was taught the
piano for a year
when I was eleven.
I didn‘t have a
particular talent
…didn‘t pick up
on it really quickly.
I do not have an aptitude
for music.
Locked out!
Forty-year-old lawyer and mother of three, Nell was born in Scotland but had lived in
Australia since she was a young child. She had accepted a reality where music has no
place in her world and described music as something that could be ‗understood‘. Nell
recalled: ‗I think Mum wanted us to be a bit more musical…but when I was young they
didn‘t have enough money for music lessons.‘ By the time she was in her mid teens and
enrolled in guitar lessons, she felt that she had no key to access her musicality.
Her story told a tale of a non-musician locked away from her musical self. A view of
music as a complex entity that demands understanding prevented her from connecting
with it. Throughout the research process, she maintained that to hear music properly
was to understand it. Such thinking contrasted vividly with current knowledge from
scientific research where, in a biomusic program Gray and her colleagues (Gray, Krause
et al, 2001) revealed similarities between animal, bird and human music that led them to
suspect that music not only predated humans but that it was a vital, natural
communicative tool. Neurological work, too, confirms these suspicions where Tramo
(2001) claimed that everyone has an essential musicality. His work with brain responses
revealed a ubiquitous human capacity to react to music as a fundamental part of our
96
human expression (Tramo, 2001). These developments began to provide hard evidence
for the view that ‗experience with music affirms our bond with the world and our
aliveness as few experiences can‘ (Bowman 1998, p. 301).
Nell considered that ‗you get a lot of status from being able to make music and be in a
band…and so on.‘ She was amazed that young primary school children could play
together in a band; a belief which emanated from her perception where there was
something ‗magic about making music,‘ which, she suggested, was ‗a very difficult
thing to do.‘ With a little laugh, she admitted to having no recall of doing any music at
primary school herself and added that her memory ‗could be selective because as I say I
don‘t have an affinity with music and I could have just blocked it out.
Witnessing her young son‘s response to music gave Nell pleasure. She recognised the
positive effect it had on the young energetic boy who had problems with core learning
programs at school. Like other participants, she saw such a response as being ‗kind of
primeval.‘ Her own brief attempt to learn the guitar in her mid teens left her convinced
that she was an outcast from the world of music. She commented that she ‗can
remember at the time saying it‘s as if someone hasn‘t given [her] the key as in…a key
on a map…a combination.‘ At no time did Nell mention that she also had singing
lessons because, as she explained in a written response to one of my queries:
I think because it was a negative experience and I don‘t tend to remember it. I also
don‘t tend to mention (admit to it!) usually because people would then expect me to
know something musically. I would not join a singing group because I guess, it
would be embarrassing. I think I have too much to do in my life to embark on
learning an entire area of knowledge. There is too much and I really feel I have no
gift for it.
Towards the end of her initial interview, Nell referred to an incident at her home and
commented, ‗I‘ve never felt I wanted to make music.‘ She seemed to be unaware of her
earlier comment that she ‗really did want to‘ learn the guitar.
As contradictions accumulated in participant data, they began to build a picture of a
rational society which itself did not make sense. There appeared to be individuals in this
society who felt so locked away from taking part in something that was an integral
aspect of human ‗identity affirmation‘ (O‘Toole, 2000) and they felt so completely
distanced from a natural means of relating to their world (Small, 1977). I began to
suspect that such observations gave indications that these individuals existed in a culture
that was divorced from any recognition of their universal birthright, leaving them to
97
exist in an ‗impoverished…lifeworld‘ (Habermas‘ italics; 1981/1997, p. 45). This
conflicting data, presented by individuals whose information is otherwise concise and
accurate, did seem to point to a detached and alienated society; a society where
individuals deny an intrinsic and instinctive aspect of their humanity.
Nell‘s estrangement from her musical world left her distanced from that resonance
between knowing that human beings ‗can really get something from music‘ and a reality
where she believed that she ‗cannot really hear it‘ and did not have ‗any affinity with it.‘
When I asked her what might be the cause of her perceptions, she adopted a pragmatic
view:
Well I like to think it was bad teaching Eve…let‘s face it…a lot of other people did
manage to learn through that system. I think also I just had no either innate ability
to understand it and I think now…now that I know…I think children need to listen
to a lot of music, to be able to understand…what it is.
In facing her belief that she had no ‗gift‘ for music, Nell (like Sonya) revealed a
reluctant acceptance of a perceived lack of musicality. Her story suggested that this
perception was influenced by her experience of formal music learning which
undermined potential positive connections with anything musical. Nell's story
demonstrated how an individual could feel alienated from ‗everyday experience with
music‘ (Serafine, 1988, p. 234) because of a self-conviction that she lacked any musical
ability. Nell laughed to rebut my suggestion that many of us are ignorant about many
aspects of music as she commented: ‗well not where I work…I think I‘m the most
ignorant…musically.‘
The never picked denied music learning
While Nell‘s experience with her private music learning may be unfortunate, I
considered the pre-emptive negative judgement that Sonya received at school to be
unacceptable educational practice. If a school curriculum limited the provision of music,
which is an integral part of our world and a means whereby humans connected socially
and historically (Shepherd & Wicke, 1997, p. 125), then this may lead to a restriction of
social and cultural development and may subsequently encourage pathological aspects
of society to become established (Habermas, 1981/1997). Recent research reveals a lack
of awareness of the music learning process and suggests that it was not useful to
withhold music learning experiences because of perceptions that a particular child might
not appear to be ‗musically gifted‘ (Davidson et.al., 1997). Yet, Harry articulated a
reality that faces many students in schools:
98
Ingrained in the standard rhetoric of schools
Music and other arts are just the frills,
Relegated into the outer fringes and you know
It’s an add on. It’s not doing the Greek Gymnasium approach. [Harry]
Language, maths and science are central to the task
It’s the age old…which knowledge is most worth?
Should music be part of the primary school?
The assumption is that such things are optional. [Harry]
Music is a part of our curriculum,
I believe it enhances other learning.
Participation is not optional,
But, like Science, does sometimes get a raw deal.
[Retired primary school principal, Susan]
Experiences like those of Sonya and others reveal a reality in which selective primary
school offerings demonstrated an exclusive version of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al.,
1998) and highlighted an educational practice that did little to address the musical
development of all students. In a discussion on teaching as a practice, Dunne (2003)
illustrated how music in the West was caught up in a separatist heritage (Habermas,
1981/1997, pp. 44-49) as he cited a provocative passage (also used as an example in
Chapter Two). In this, MacIntyre is seen to reveal a disconnection with his own
musicality as prejudice prevented recognition of innate musicality of humans:
[T]here are kinds of teaching…the teaching of piano or violin, for example…in
which the ruthless exclusion of the talentless from further teaching (a mercy to
the student as well as to the teacher and to any innocent bystanders) is one of the
marks of a good teacher and in which the abilities to identify the talentless and
to exclude them are among her or his virtues. (MacIntyre cited in Dunne, 2003,
pp. 359-360).
As Dunne condemned this view as ‗impoverished‘ (2003, p. 360), I heard echoes of
such a perception in the voice of Vi when she claimed that she has ‗a hopeless voice,
and would pity the teacher‘ who might accept her as a singing student. Dunne suggested
that, to be consistent, MacIntyre might judge his provocation to be ‗properly
parsimonious‘ a description that indeed reflected the view of Harry, in which he
considered the everyday running of the school day where ‗the real demands central to
the task rate language learning, maths and getting a job as more worthy of effort (given
limited resources) than aesthetic activity (including music).‘
It also reflects current acceptance of selective teaching practice where, as a result of
tests in school, a limited number of ‗gifted‘ children are chosen for instrumental lessons.
O'Neill reveals her concern for ‗those children who will be denied the opportunity‘
99
(1997, p. 49), but young university drop-out Chas demonstrated a similar view to that of
Harry when he said that education necessarily has funding limits. While Chas
recognised MacIntyre‘s provocation as ‗old-fashioned‘ he also commented that ‗it‘s
probably technically right but has no soul.‘ Chas considered that if resources are
limited, then these should provide only for those who have a propensity to succeed in
musical performance.
Stories from participants show that this restricted view of music education affected selfview, a perception reflected in a study (Frakes, 1985) into attitudes towards school
music activities Frakes‘ found that non-participants had the least positive attitude to
music (p. 91). Like the ‗non-musical‘ never picked, the participants in Frakes‘ study
showed that ‗self-perception of musical ability‘ was related to the non-participants‘
negative attitudes towards music (p. 93). Individuals such as Chas accepted a lack of
musical learning in their education because they had been persuaded to accept a system
dominated by the focus on the development of skills necessary for workplace survival
(Small, 1977). A recent document (EDWA, 2005) in Western Australia illustrates the
view of education as training for the workplace; ‗the arts‘ were seen to important when
they helped to prepare a ‗creative‘ workforce. With little recognition of the intrinsic
value of music in an education system, music could become a subject, or even an
‗object,‘ (see Lines, 2005), where some ‗talented‘ students could excel as performers
while the remaining students were left to become consumers. Individuals such as Nell
might then be excluded from authentic music involvement because of an unnatural
usurping of knowledge by ‗experts‘ (Habermas, 1981/1997, p. 45).
Janice and Caddie, (primary teachers and participants in this study) were aware of the
importance of music and expressed concerns about their everyday struggle to include it
in their general school program. Their concern was validated in the realities of
individuals such as Jessie, where there was minimal music learning experience in their
education; again increasing the danger of being excluded from their ‗cultural heritage‘
(Habermas, p. 45). As Jessie, a retired office worker explained: ‗I kind of don‘t like it
much…don‘t understand it so I am a little bit frightened because you feel you ought
to…a kind of snobby thing…you‘re lacking some kind of refinement if you don‘t
understand.‘ Such a perceived limitation results in an unnecessary distancing of
individuals from their inherited potential, yet such a reality would continue as the norm
so long as music education remained a special provision for ‗gifted‘ students. I
100
suspected that the view of arts education as preparation for employment (EDWA, 2005)
undermined its essential purpose, which should be concerned with the holistic
development of the young child (Noddings, 2005.
Developmental music learning: not for all
Two-thirds of the participants in this study accepted the general veracity of the ‗talent
account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) in regard to human musicality. Their experiences
supported the observation that, in the West, music had been transformed into a product
(Lines, 2005), so that music existed as an object that is produced for consumption. A
contrasting view of music, however, lived in the memory or two participants as they
recalled the central role of music from their European childhood.
There is no such a thing as dinner and just talk,
Everybody just sang, and this is how we start,
But then singing lessons…and eisteddfods…out of tune.
I am embarrassed now and like the choir with no audition. [Ada]
In Budapest school all of the class sang
And harmonised too, but Australian young men!
Footballers singing their song after the game,
You think, ‘my God!’ they could learn if given a chance. [Ella]
These negative self-views of musicality contrasted tellingly with the natural rhythm and
musical expression revealed in participant stories. Research data suggested that it was
the balance between individual self-view and community judgement that determined
which individuals considered themselves to be musical beings. In the cases of these
participants, a general acceptance of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) dictated
who could sing or play. They were persuaded by the notion that it was not normal to
engage in active music making in our society unless a person was born with a musical
gift. It would seem that, at the centre of this participant data was a conviction that
individuals are unmusical unless they could prove otherwise, despite this fact being in
direct opposition to recent biological and neurological studies that confirm human
musicality (Gray, Krause et al, 2001).
101
I know I can’t sing, I can’t hold the key,
So shocking you know, but teacher can’t see,
‘There’s someone over there that’s just not quite in tune.’
We’d all sing again, but this time I’d just mime. [Mechanic, Howard]
Then therapy helps to find who I am.
I sing in the car, but not all the time,
For my thoughts and feelings…it’s great to be
Able to sing and I know that I’m free. [Howard]
These revealing experiences of individuals who believed that they were born without
the ‗gift‘ of music vibrated with rhythmic musicality. They highlighted the
understandings of Small (1977) where he makes a plea for the ‗subversion of the whole
process of schooling, revealing to the pupils the quite simple fact that learning is not a
preparation for life but a basic experience of life itself, and giving them confidence in
their ability to learn whatever it is they wish to learn‘ (p. 211). At the time when Sonya
was in the primary school, the curriculum document directing teachers‘ programs
delivered clear directions where rhythm was as ‗the basis of all music [and that] this
sense should be carefully developed through song and games, dramatizations, marching,
skipping, tapping and beating‘ (Education Department Western Australia, 1936‘ p. 252).
To accuse the eight-year-old of having no sense rhythm could be perceived to be a
result of an ‗insensitive and ill-informed‘ (Welch, 2005, p. 118) attempt by a teacher to
ensure that all the children marched on the beat. Sonya was, however, devastated by this
incident; this experience was to stay with her and the listener can still hear the hurt in
the voice of the small child from the sixty-year-old academic.
This incident appeared to reveal a misreading of the curriculum where the educational
‗aim was to develop an ‗appreciation of the beautiful in...music [and] obligation [was]
to build up within our children a feeling for that which is noble in literature, delightful
in music...[and where] the function of the school [was] to develop this appreciation in
music...so that our rising generation will have within itself resources from which beauty
and serenity will grow‘ (Klein, 1936, p. 5). Yet, Harry confirmed that teachers felt
‗threatened‘ as they tried to prepare the students to ‗perform‘ successfully so that they
would ‗pass‘ their testing visit by the school inspector. A recent press report reflects
historical events as the writer suggests that school inspectors might, once again, be
introduced to check on teachers‘ work. A ‗humorous‘ conclusion to the newspaper
column (Casellas, 2004, p. 13) unveils implications regarding music in our society as
102
the author imagines how the inspector might meet the school doctor at the end of the
day in a country school. Instead of commiserating with her nit-checking, his response
provided a neat summary of societal attitude and inappropriate curriculum content:
At least you don‘t have to listen to them sing. How many times this week do you
think I‘ve had to sit through ‗by yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes; and none of them knows what a brae is anyway.
Welch lamented the ‗mismatch between the interests and musical identities of pupils
and the curricula that they experience‘ (2005, p 119) as he considered that individuals
were inappropriately ‗labelled as unmusical‘ despite universal human musicality (2005,
p. 118). Sonya expressed frustration because she ‗knew‘ that she, a musical person, had
been unjustly led to a ‗rueful‘ acceptance that she was ‗not musical‘. Her story would
seem to justify the subversion of educational practice suggested by Small (1977, p.
211), for her story revealed that she suffered long term feelings of inadequacy because
of the actions of one teacher. While her experience highlighted the debilitating power of
the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998), it also demonstrated the pervasive resilience of
humans to ‗maintain the vital contact‘ (Small, 1977, p. 225) with an essential part of our
nature. For Sonya, music remained ‗just part of me‘; her concluding statement about
music held an element of defiance: ‗Yes, I enjoy it. No, I can't do it. That's why I'm not
even in the ballpark - but I love dancing.
Just sitting quietly and listening to the trees,
A music of life; like tribal communities.
You think it has to be manmade It’s just part of me,
That’s a music of life, Water gurgling, poetry.
Musicality of the ‘non-musical’
An unfolding story of participant musicality emerged through the construction of the
ballad to reveal a tale of a desire to make music; a desire that was thwarted by everyday
reality as individuals learned that they were ‗not-musical‘. Music itself became the
story-teller as participants‘ words rang with rhythm to prove that, despite their learning,
they were musical after all. Figure 4 illustrates how the composite narrative of
participants‘ experiences revealed their innate musicality despite negative cultural
learning. While each story alone was specific and complex, once woven together as a
complex whole, the ballad captures the essence of a distanced musicality.
103
Participant stories reveal
that they know they are
not musical
Participant stories:
the Never-Picked
Composite stories combine to
make the Narrative
Narrative rings with rhythm to
reveal that participants are
musical
Figure 4: Participant narrative reveals innate musicality
Sonya made it clear during our initial contacts that she believed being musical was an
inherent aspect of human nature. Yet, three years after our initial conversation, she
replied to my query, ‗how might you view yourself relative to a practicing musician?‘
with a concise, ‗Not anywhere in the same ball park!‘ This comment, her second use of
the ballpark analogy, opened the way for a final deeper revelation where she articulated
her acceptance of her non musical position. It was Sonya‘s story that led towards
insights of other participants‘ journeys from their musical selves. Chapter Five begins
with an exploration of how musical beings learn that they are not musical.
104
Chapter Five:
Musical? Not in the ballpark!
You have to sneak up on generalities, not assault them head-on.
(Gould, 1996, p. 20)
Learning to be not musical
Jim was a physiotherapist who ‗knew‘ that he was ‗unmusical‘ and that he could not
sing. He told how he had imagined himself as a potential pop singer when his grade
seven teacher silenced him in the class choir and told him to mime. At the time, he said,
he thought it was funny, but later he was convinced that ‗it is a shame [and that the
teacher] could have been more encouraging. Even when on my own, I still, even now,
feel self-conscious…let alone sing with other people around‘. As I related Jim‘s story to
Chas, a nineteen year-old university ‗drop-out,‘ he laughed; ―Classic! Very normal! It‘s
always happening‖.
Normal? Could such a departure from inclusive education be widespread? Music is
recognised as a crucial aspect of human knowing and is an important part of children‘s
education (Aitken, 1993), yet the data from my on-going research project suggested that
the perception seen by Chas was a reality for many in our society. Furthermore, Harry, a
senior teacher educator, claimed that music in Western Australian schools was ‗a side
piece to the whole educational business…just one of the frills…an add on…not
essential for the younger child‘s development.‘ Participant perceptions revealed a
general view of music as something that was performed by the talented where there was
a general acceptance that music was not something that was accessible to all. To be
musical, Harry believed, ‗is a thing one is or one isn‘t.‘
Yet all human beings come into the world ready to respond to music (Tramo, 2001).
Lullabies soothe newborns and songs connect groups of people; music promotes social
cohesion (Cross & Moreley, 2002). All cultures have their music and humans rely on it
for ritual and relaxation, however, at the heart of this study of self-perceived non-
105
musicians was a conviction that individuals are not musical unless they could prove
otherwise. While challenges to this widespread assumption (Blacking, 1976; Sloboda et.
al. 1994) are yet to gain a widespread hearing, individuals who feel that they are not
musical tell stories that reflect a judgemental and exclusive school practice. This exists
despite a general acceptance that all human cultures have music as a central force and
that all human societies demonstrate a ‗deep human need to create, perform, and listen
to music‘ (Gray et al, 2001) so it is puzzling that such a group of participants who
perceive themselves to be ‗non-musicians‘ and ‗not musical‘ was so easy to recruit.
How was it that these individuals had come to perceive themselves to be ‗not musical‘?
Rhonda, a young high school teacher lamented widespread societal ‗judgement‘ as her
observations of teenage students became a springboard to reflections on her own reality.
She revealed a reluctance to sing in public because she feared potential embarrassment
as a result of ‗the society we live in [and] the judgemental nature of and the critical
nature of people‘. Other participants also had a view that musical people were either
talented singers or instrumental performers. In Table 7, participant data show the fear
and embarrassment that reveal feelings of not being musical together with a reticence to
engage in music making where other people can hear.
Table 7: Self-judgement in response to societal expectations
Participant Participant data
Musical reality
Caterina
None of us could sing, none of us
can…so I wouldn‘t say any of my family
were musical. I wish I could sing. I‘ve
always believed that I‘m a bad singer
I‘m just an observer of music.
Enjoyed singing in the choir at
school. Limits her involvement to
appreciation of ‗talented‘ others.
Harry
I‘m not musical. I can‘t hold a tune. I
can‘t even sing in the shower. I was
disappointed when the results [of
attempts to learn an instrument in late
teens] were not as attractive as one
might‘ve wished.
I wouldn‘t sing out in public. People
would say: ‗how could she possibly
sing…she‘s revolting, it‘s the worst
thing I‘ve ever heard.‘ I fear
embarrassment, fear I‘ll make a mistake.
Refrains from any attempt at active
music making, even in private.
Believes that being musical ‗is a
thing one is or one isn‘t‘.
Me sing? I have no voice to sing. I
would love to be able to sing! I‘ve tried!
I don‘t think I am musical.
‗I can hum a tune with the radio. I
would certainly have been prepared
to put the hard yards in to sing. Pity
the teacher though!‘
Rhonda
Vi
Sings at home and in the car.
Refrains from singing in public.
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Retired teacher and historian Sonya reported that: ‗I really believe everyone has got
music in them. It‘s just a question of bringing it out.‘ Yet her self-reflections told a
different story:
I first realised that I couldn't sing when I was never picked for singing at school.
I enjoyed singing while washing-up or travelling in the car, but I got the idea
that other people didn't enjoy hearing me that much…I don't consider myself
'musical' [although] I'm a keen appreciator of music. I don't regard myself
anywhere in relation to a practising musician. That's why I'm not even in the
ballpark.
Such denial of ‗the musicality of the ordinary person‘ (Small, 1977, p. 163) led to the
negative self-views held by two-thirds of the individuals in this study. Their perceptions
were dominated by a societal assumption that musicality is an innate gift possessed only
by the talented few as individuals failed to acknowledge the importance of the essential
role of developmental learning (Davidson et al, 1997). Multiple stories in this research
combined to reveal a musical world dominated by societal perceptions of performance
and talent. The research is validated through iterative relationships that developed with
key participants over a period of five years. Trust and mutual exchanges then led to
deep reflections on everyday musical realities as participant voices uncovered adverse
effects of formal music education in creating their individual musical selves.
Music learning at school
Primary schooling has powerful influences that are not only outcomes of curricula and
everyday practice but that can result from societal convictions that teachers can provide
real knowledge about potentiality of children. One grandmother‘s letter, for instance,
recognises the importance of music education in schools and reveals particular
expectations:
Leonie is 10 and pleased she has been picked to learn the flute at school next
year. Everyone is saving pennies like mad to buy a flute. Jo is learning the
trumpet next year so we keep on saving. Jo is quite good on the piano. Last year
her old Grandmother [the writer] tried not to look too pleased when Jo played
the accompaniment for some of the carols at the school concert. I hope Newtown
gets one [a music specialist] before long so my other grandees can find out if
they have any musical ability.
This letter highlights the issue of selective learning opportunity and competition for a
place in an instrumental program. Yet, as O'Neill (1997, p. 49) stresses, early testing for
musical ‗ability‘ could lead to a denial of essential access to human learning so that
107
some children receive preferment over others who might actually have more motivation
and commitment to longer term learning. Her suspicion was born out by Andy, a
nineteen year-old medical student, who observed that when
…kids…in year six start…learning trumpet or something ‗n they do it for two
years in years six ‗n seven ‗n they might even do a couple of lessons in years
eight, nine and ten…‗n then the trumpet sits under their bed for the rest of their
lives ‗n they don‘t seem to‘ve achieved a whole lot through their three or four
years of trumpet training…dare I call it that!
When Andy claimed that music was ‗part of your environment, part of your culture, it‘s
part of you,‘ he reflects recent research which shows that knowledge and understanding
of music theory are not essential for our deep connection with music (Cook, 1990, pp.
62, 63). Such research addresses human musicality and recognises the importance of
music to human development. Mithen (2005, pp. 69-84), for example, highlights the
importance of music to human cognitive development and music as a means of
expressing emotions and connecting with others. Further, Cross and Morely (2002)
consider the relevance of music to human evolution as it provides a means towards
social cohesion. A recent example of the ‗power of music to unify a group of people‘
resulted in a happier first grade class when the students showed an improvement in
‗conduct and attitude‘ as they worked together to compose (Miller, 2004, p. 65).
Despite music education being recognised as important in the education of children, it
remains low in the priority of many schools (Russell-Bowie, 1997, p. 358). Further,
minimal music provision in pre-service education contributes to a lack of teacher
confidence in everyday classroom practice. Evidence from this study shows that, for
some individuals, music in the classroom had changed little since Small, the educator
and theorist, observed the reticence of teachers to teach music because of inadequate
preparation in their teacher education program. His perception that this problem did not
apply to the areas of art or creative writing (Small, 1977, p. 214) is also still pertinent. A
curriculum that provides students with access to music learning that is both
developmentally (Miller, 2004) and culturally (Smith, 2004) appropriate could address
this unsatisfactory situation.
Caddy, an experienced primary school teacher participant told of the problem she faced
when the music specialist teacher was no longer available for her school. She feared the
prospect of teaching songs to her class and spoke of feelings of insecurity when it came
108
to singing in the classroom. Yet once she had completed several music projects,
including one involving the children‘s own compositions accompanying a social studies
theme, she appreciated the extra music that was occurring and the fact that music was
no longer ‗separate‘ from the other subject areas. However, her program did lack
developmental music learning and what actually occurred often depended on the
children‘s favourite CDs that they brought into the class for general listening.
While Susan, a Primary School Principal, believed ‗that participation in musical
experiences, including movement to music/dance is essential in enhancing all other
learning‘, she revealed her pragmatic acceptance of selective opportunities. She
explained how ‗testing carried out in Year 3 for violin and for other instruments in Year
6 is both a useful part of a process of getting children interested to learn an instrument
and in their actual learning to play.‘ When faced with another participant‘s perception
that: ‗one of the really sad things…is that people grow up with ideas that are implanted
at an early age about the fact that they are not talented…and if that‘s
implanted…firmly…it‘s very hard to change later in life,‘ Susan agreed that this might
be ‗true…but that decisions we make about talent are often based on non-school
experience [and that they were] a fact of life regardless of programs.‘
Susan recognised that a pragmatic acceptance of music as a ‗frill‘ in the school program
as a useful means to provide class teachers with their compulsory ‗DOTT (Duties Other
Than Teaching) time‘ lowered the importance of music as an integral part of the
teaching program. She also accepted that auditioning in order to form a ‗quality‘ choir is
a useful process and that ‗children who don‘t make it into the choir could join a sports
or other activity of some sort.‘ Experiences recorded in Table 8 and Table 9 show a
general perception that music is something that requires extraordinary ability; the
importance of the nurturing of innate human potential goes without recognition.
Table 8: School ‗learning‘ contributes to non-musical perceptions
Name
Perceptions of being Not Musical
Caterina
Learning the recorder at school started putting me off ‗cos I thought ‗I can‘t
just read it…I can‘t read music!‘ I felt stupid. I am the most unmusical
person…I‘m not musical. I‘m not trained…God I wish I could sing.
Chas
By about age 8, I knew I was not musical…this knowing was a gradual thing. I
109
cannot say how it happened. I hardly outshone…others in the class when we
learned the recorder. [Whereas I excelled easily in maths.] Private piano
learning confirmed this conviction.
Vic
I couldn‘t even play the recorder…would rather do detention than do music at
school.
Table 9: Private music lessons contribute to non-musical perceptions
Name
Self-perceptions of being Not Musical
Chas
When faced with the demographic statement ‗I have learned to play a musical
instrument‘ Chas responds: ‗I was taught but I never really learnt. There is a
subtle difference…I didn‘t have an aptitude for it...I wasn‘t good at it straight
away.‘
Jessy
When I think of ‗musical‘ I always think of classical music. I kind of don‘t like
it much and don‘t understand it. I was a little bit frightened because you feel
you ought to…you‘re lacking some kind of refinement if you don‘t
understand. [Piano learning] undermined my confidence. I felt stupid.
Nell
I did want to learn guitar. I didn‘t understand what a note was…I just felt it
was a foreign language and I just couldn‘t grasp it. I just had no innate ability
to understand it. Theory lessons [seemed to be] a foreign language.
That's why I'm not even in the ballpark
Several participants admitted that they felt ‗stupid‘ because they could not sing in tune
or read music. An understanding of developmental learning suggests that it would be
surprising if they could do either of these things with no musical background and I
would argue that there would be little expectation for them to solve complicated
mathematics or to excel in a high-grade basketball game without appropriate initiation
and practice. Despite being irrational, a negative influence from the environment
dominated individuals‘ self-views so that they felt that they were not musical unless
they could prove otherwise. This persisted regardless of the lack of necessary
developmental music experiences. Figure 5 outlines these participants‘ reality where
negative responses to their attempts at making music caused them to doubt their innate
musicality. They responded by assuming the ‗judgemental…and…critical‘ perspective
which affected Rhonda; human responses to music were distanced from everyday
action. Where developmental musical actions are approved (like early speech acts that
lead to language acquisition) individuals are free to become part of a musical
110
community; they need not get caught up in a non-musical cycle (nine individuals out of
the 29 participants in this study considered that they were ‗musical‘).
Approval of action
Part of
Musical
community
Negative response
towards
attempts
to do
music
musical?
not musical?
Ready to judge!
Self-doubts
and
non-musical
status
Only gifted people
do
music
Non-musical Cycle
Figure 5: Caught in non-musical lifecycle.
Music of life? I’m just an observer
Despite agreeing with the perceptions of several other participants that music is a
primeval response to life and that it has a positive influence on moods and sense of self,
Caterina explained that she felt ‗too embarrassed‘ to learn singing. She protested that
the teacher would say: ‗Oh, no hope!‘ Yet a palpable musical connection was revealed
in her actual words where she spoke of ‗music [as being] the sounds of life. Just sitting
quietly and listening to the trees and the birds…to me that‘s a music of life.‘ In class,
however, she remembered that she ‗felt stupid. Definitely. I remember thinking ‗Oh I
can‘t do this‘. Cos I can‘t read music…I‘m just an observer of music.‘ For Caterina,
although she refrained from doing music where anyone might hear her, music remained
‗something intangible that…is a very important part of our lives.‘ Her school
111
background had not included a developmental approach to music learning which could
engage the imagination through composition (Miller, 2004), a ‗normal‘ process for art
and story-writing. For Caterina, her experience of feeling daunted by an inability to read
musical notation was what led her to claim that she was ‗probably the most unmusical
person you‘ve ever interviewed‘.
Meg also initiated her conversation with the exclamation, ‗Oh I‘m not musical!‘
However, Meg was someone who had always known that she was in the ‗musical
ballpark‘. She loved listening to music and was happy to do her own music despite
being aware that she ‗couldn‘t play it myself to the standards that I‘d like to hear‘. Her
imaginative childhood had provided her with an ability to withstand practical
difficulties and allowed her to develop an independence and resilience that refused to be
tempered by life demands. It was the thinking of Meg that led me to question the
essence of societal perceptions of our ‗musical ballpark‘
Meg’s Reflections
I love music…Oh, I’m not musical!…if I come again in another life
I’m going to come back as a singer and make people cry.
I have not always been a city dweller. Many years ago I lived in station county in South
Australia. Home was a railway cottage in a town boasting twenty inhabitants. No room
for pretensions - life was different and direct. It was here that I met Meg. She had grown
up in this country before leaving for the city to train as a nurse, and was living on a
sheep station with her husband and two young children. That was thirty years ago.
Things have changed, the children have grown up and Meg and her husband have left
their beloved country to make a living ‗down South‘. Meg returned to full-time nursing,
study and administration, and now makes it her business to take a real holiday once a
year. This is how we came to talk about being musical as she and her husband spent a
few days with my family on their annual holiday. This happened to be a period when I
was still seeking appropriate participants for this study.
Meg agreed to be a conversational partner. On several occasions, she and I pursued an
understanding about what it meant to be musical. At first, in a prelude to deeper
discussions, there were mere snatches of comment. One occurred as we were touristdriving towards a lunch destination and Meg announced, ‗Oh, I‘m not musical!‘ It was a
catalyst to my request that she participate in the study. I wondered what might have
caused such a strong response to my comment that I was engaged in researching how
112
non-musicians feel about the idea of musical. I dared to ask if she would be willing to
take part in a formal, taped conversation. A forty-five minute interview was recorded
the next day and this was followed by brief reflections. It was more than a year later
when I sent her a copy of the transcript together with interpretive comments. In a series
of emails, she indicated that she was happy with the written understandings and her
‗corrections‘ related to grammar only. From my perspective, ‗real life‘ language gave
authenticity to raw data, despite it not being grammatically correct. To Meg, however,
an efficient health care co-ordinator, it suggested lack of attention to detail; a lack of
style: she wrote that it was ‗…bad luck I put so many ‗ums‘, ‗ers‘ and ‗yeahs‘.‘ In a
quest for clarity, these are omitted from the excerpts below.
Meg’s Story
It was pleasant sitting in the sun at eleven o‘clock before leaving for lunch. Meg
indicated that she was still happy to share her perceptions and experiences about aspects
of being musical. Yet, when I casually asked whether she might have any thoughts
about what music might be her dismay was palpable. She queried: ‗Ah heavens ah –
what…music to me…or…what I think music is?‘ Soon, however, after acknowledging
that any attempt to define music was so difficult, we relaxed and talked about her
impressions of what music might be and how we might think about a person who was
musical. Her perceptions were enlightening. Any definitive answer eluded yet it was
birdsong that first came to her mind as something that could best represent this
widespread yet mysterious phenomenon. Musical people were, for her, those individuals
who could sing in tune or play a musical instrument…yet, she considered, there was
more to being musical than that. Meg‘s upbringing as an only child in isolation from
others led to insightful reflections.
While both Vi and Meg acknowledged the importance of the performance aspect of
music and both felt that nature itself could be music for people, Meg went further in her
interpretation of music as a composite of natural elements. She referred to both
appearance and sound as she envisaged a physical musical reality:
Music from birds…instruments are musical, and birdsong is musical…A
musical person has the ability to produce tones ‗n notes ‗n music either
from…mouth or from an instrument. That‘s…doing it yourself…that‘s the
mechanics of it. But as I said there‘s so much music everywhere…in nature. I
saw a whole thing up at the bush once. A whole lot of trees down in a big
gully…we were having a barbeque an‘ that reminded me of music…because it
had that sort of sculptural abstract visual thing. So, to me, music can be visual as
113
well as hearing….There‘s music everywhere you go. I mean just trees, listening
to the trees. The wind in the trees…that‘s musical…the wind ‘n the little bits of
gumnuts tapping against each other.
Considering her own family, she noted that her Dad was always ‗very flat‘ and that
…neither of the children could sing in tune. They sing very flat like we all do. Yet,
my father-in-law was quite musical. He used to sing quite well in tune. My
daughter-in-law doesn‘t play any musical instruments but she can sing in tune. She‘s
got fantastic dancing rhythm, of course.
Meg revealed an underlying acceptance of a reality that musical ability
depended on an accident of birth, and while she did not consider her son to be
musical because he could not sing in tune, she noted that he did have some
musical talent in that he could figure out tunes on an instrument and used to
enjoy playing in a grunge band. He married a girl from a different musical
ethnic background who ‗of course has fantastic dancing rhythm because her
background is enmeshed in a musical culture‘. Her observations were to be
later supported in Bowman‘s consideration of the importance of music as part
of education (2002)13.
As she traced her son‘s history, she painted a clear picture not only of the
development of the young Sam, but also of her own perceptions:
…when he went to City College – in his first year he actually played the bag
pipes – and he was quite good. I remember old Joe saying he had quite a good
finger. He did have that musical that…anyway he had that little bit of…talent I
s‘pose that‘s why he went on to go and do the guitar and got really wrapped ‗n
playing with the band. [Laughing, she added] we were quite pleased ‗cos it sort
of kept him off the streets a bit. Gave him some purpose.
Her story was spiced with little episodes, and the following illustrated her
reasons for considering her non-singing son to be musical person:
[Upon receiving] a little stone instrument from South America with a few holes
in it…he started picking it up and started playing. [Then,]
…when Sam was in Grade 7…and was leader of the dance…his rhythm was just
spot on
He played quite well...when his Dad turned forty [and Sam had come home to
the station for the hangi celebrations, Meg laughed as she described how they]
13
‗Music‘s nature as ritual becomes crucial when we turn to what may be the most pivotal claim I want to
make for music‘s ethical and education significance. This claim is that we are what we do, and do
repeatedly. Music‘s ritualistic actions and the dispositions that undergird them are fundamental to the
formation of character, both collective and individual. More strongly still, music plays a fundamental role
in the social production and regulation of identity‘ (Bowman, 2002, p. 75).
114
got him to pipe the pig in. So all dressed up, and it‘s a dress up show…and he
was dressed up in green hair and he was playing ‗Amazing Grace‘ while people
were bringing in this pig.
Meg perceived that certain aspects of musical talent were inherited. Recalling
the incident that occurred as we drove along exploring aspects of Perth, I
reminded Meg of her comments regarding being not musical:
Oh I‘m not musical. I mean when I say not musical…I thoroughly appreciate
music I love music, I love hearing sounds of music but I can‘t actually transpose
it ‗n I can‘t play to the standards that I‘d like to hear.
I don‘t sing in tune as to how it‘s played on an instrument…I love singing
because I know all the words…I love singing, singing when I‘m drunk an‘ all
that sort of stuff, but…I would never perform as a singer because I couldn‘t. I
wouldn‘t consider my standards were up to the standards of a singing performer
Laughing, she commented that her daughter, Sally, proclaimed that she would:
…have to come back as black because…because I like music, and if I come
again in another life I‘m going to come back as a singer and make people cry
Meg noted that ‗expectations of others [caused us to] judge ourselves;‘ she saw how this
related to social aspects of doing music at school where peer pressure often operated to
stop students playing a certain instrument. This was the bagpipes, in Sam‘s case, where
his former enjoyment in playing was affected because of
…expectations of other people [which caused] him to stop in year eight because
then…it was a little bit infra dig if you played the bagpipes.
Expectations could also have a positive influence, she noted, and could cause a
young person to pick up a musical instrument. Referring to her son she recalled ‗that
later teen period where it was ‗cool‘ to pick up guitar, and Sam got totally stuck into
his grunge band with his mates…the drummer‘s father was a musician and he
actually came along and helped encourage them‘. Sam‘s Dad, was proud of his
efforts, especially when the young man and his friends got a gig at the local pub.
Music continued to be a connective medium as Bill (Meg‘s husband) and Meg
enjoyed playing with their grandson (Sam‘s son).
…I can‘t sing…we let him [the grandson] do the singing‘n Bill played the
mouth organ [and Meg strummed along on a ukelele]. But he couldn‘t really
play it properly but still…but we had a bit of a go.
115
Meg remembered that her mother was always whistling, always singing:
…as far as their musical went, Mum was always whistling. She whistled very
well. She had a nice…she whistled in tune and her whistle wavered…that was
nice, I could never whistle like that. My Dad was very flat. He‘d try and sing
and you know, he‘d put everybody out of the room but at the same time he really
loved his country and western records.
He would always sit out there in the caravan there and play his country and
western records…then he‘d play ‗When the Saints Come Marching In‘ and we‘d
all march around the table….And he had this one about putting the poor vicar in
the stew and things like that…which I was terrified of but I thought the poor ol‘
vicar being put in the stew!
In the Stew, In the stew,
They put the poor Vicar in the stew
I really imagined that they put the Vicar in the stew and got upset about it; it was
most distressing to imagine people being cooked when you are little.
With her stories, Meg acknowledged the powerful impact that music could have as
people listened to or made music:
Oh it‘s good. It releases. It‘s terrific, oh…is one of the best things of all for
releasing any sort of stress or emotions ‗n you know sometimes I wish I was a
brilliant pianist ‗n when you‘re feeling stressed or really cheesed off you could
sit ‗n belt it out on the piano. But I sit ‗n turn it up…turn up music ‗n listen to it
‗n dance you see…to myself…
Towards the end of her interview shereflected on the ‗musical‘ or ‗unmusical‘ labels we
imposed upon ourselves:
…as being the producers of music…I guess that‘s just stereotyping music to a
point because really nobody thinks beyond it do they? And you think of it…that
it has to be manmade, but it‘s not…
Was Meg was able to come to a different view of music (compared to the never
picked) because of her ‗background skills‘ (Searle, 1995, p. 133)? Could music
be something other than a human construction? Could it be something already
in nature? Through thought, Meg had moved from her initial comment, ‗Oh
I‘m not musical‘, to consider another possibility of intrinsic musicalness
encompassing all of nature, including humans.
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Table 10: Meg‘s Perceptions: Themes from Pilot Interviews reinforced
Music as Performance:
Music as human action
Identity
Judgement: ‗Oh I‘m not
musical…I can‘t play it to the
standards that I‘d like to
hear.‘
Expected societal standards of
performance limit who do
music;
Physical and emotional
enjoyment and release.
Social Aspect; pride in son‘s
performance
Two views of musical:
Self-view; not musical
‗I don‘t sing in tune as to how
it‘s played on an instrument –
so I am not musical.‘
‗I would never perform as a
singer because I couldn‘t. I
wouldn‘t consider my
standards were up to the
standards of a singing
performer.‘
Effects of private music
lessons
Doing – with grandson;
Engages in music making as
social action.
Appreciating
The Talent Notion –accepts
she is not musical ‗and if I
come again in another life I‘m
going to come back as a
singer and make people cry‘.
Music as motivation –when
lonely, her daughter ‗threw
herself into her practice‘.
Bush Basics: A Different Perspective
Oh I’m not musical!
Meg's bush background, with its minimal access to entertainment and social contact,
allowed a unique relationship with the physical environment; her imaginative inner
resources ran free. An exciting, interactive virtual world of friends existed for Meg as a
child, a world where roughly hewn toys, animals and plants made for complex play as
she subtly connected to her real world. Never subdued by her rugged background where
improvisation was a major resource, she retained her refreshing, if pragmatic, view of
all things that came her way. So I appreciated Meg‘s perspective, untainted with layers
of assumptions regarding music learning and performance, as a valuable contribution
that could help to balance data. It could help to prevent bias which, as Taylor (1997)
warns, is an inherent danger of any exploration of social reality through a particular
perspective (pp. 315-316). Research using culturally loaded perceptions, Taylor argues,
does not ‗in any sense record brute data‘ (1997, p. 316).
So, excerpts from Meg‘s biography (see Appendix D), her own words from her
transcript and my interpretations are presented here in an attempt to overcome some of
the distortions of a single interpretation. Meg‘s understandings offered a unique view. In
her one hour interview, she travelled from a perspective embedded in commonly held
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‗expected standards‘ of music making, through the openness of her bush childhood to a
view where she questioned societal assumptions about the very nature of music:
Oh I‘m not musical. I mean when I say not musical I‘m not…I thoroughly
appreciate music I love music, I love hearing sounds of music but I can‘t
actually transpose it ‗n I can‘t play it myself to the – well to the standards that
I‘d like to hear.
Meg‘s initial claims to be non-musical conflicted with her later acknowledgement of the
powerful effects that music had for her, either when listening or singing when drunk.
Could it be that she was revealing an ‗unreconciled nature‘ (Habermas, 1981/1997, p.
48) of her musical world when she presented contradictory thoughts of being unmusical
on the one hand and her strong response to music on the other? While Habermas was
reflecting Baudelaire's recognition of the distance between art and everyday life, Meg‘s
story displayed this separation of music into two disparate entities. For her, it was
something that individuals could only do if they happened to be born ‗musical‘, that is
they have a ‗natural‘ musical potential. Otherwise, they were expected to remain passive
receivers of professionals‘ music―except in private or when drunk. This understanding
was also made explicit in the conversations of several participants (most notably, key
informants - Meg, Chas, Harry, Rhonda, and Nell).
As ‗self-defining beings, humans are partly what we are in virtue of the self definitions
which we have accepted, however we have come by them.‘ (Taylor, 1997, p. 319);
Meg‘s particular disposition had responded to her background to make her a resilient,
spirited individual. Her honest perceptions, enriched by her experiences of an unfettered
childhood imagination, added valuable insights to my conception of what music could
be. Meg never lost her ability to improvise. She never saw her stark childhood as being
difficult, but rather, she responded to the rich tapestry created by her imagination as she
learned to survive diverse hardships with her particular pragmatic acceptance.
While it might have only been ‗a bit sad‘ that her childhood ‗friend Mrs. Cactus‘ had to
meet a violent end - ‗killed by a front-end loader‘, Meg showed that she would cope
with the same pragmatism many years later when her family had to leave their beloved
station and start out again in life. She accepted that it was necessary to retrain in her
nursing profession so she could, once again, work and live in a different way. Her
resilient nature allowed her meet obstacles head on. It was the same with her
perceptions about her musicality. She believed that none of her family could sing in
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tune, accepted that she would never be a ‗singer,‘ yet she commented that this was not
‗huge thing‘ in her life:
I‘m very happy with…with singing to myself ‗n listening to nature ‗n nature‘s
music. Because of the expectations of human nature as to how people should
perform, that‘s the major reason I don‘t really consider it a…huge thing in my
life but then again, I often say if I come again in another life I‘m going to come
back as a singer ‘n make people cry…with emotions.
If Dewey's challenge to the theorist and empirical scientist is that they open themselves
to a new way of thinking, away from the limiting perceptions of separatist views of
human experience and nature (Dewey, 1958/1997), then Meg with her imaginative
background could suggest one way towards an integrated perspective. She avoided any
limited understanding of what it meant to be a musical being where that led to a
disconnection from nature. She never lost her ability to maintain an awareness of her
position as an integral part of the natural world. Her childhood on a remote station left
her with an inner ability to call upon her imaginative resources and to ‗penetrate into
[nature, and reach] down into its depths in such a way that its grasp is capable of
expansion; it tunnels in all directions and in so doing brings to the surface things at first
hidden‘ (Dewey, 1958/1997, p. 251). In such a way, Meg recognised her musicality.
In a way reminiscent of Dewey's recognition of the relationship between nature and
experience (p. 251), Meg saw music in nature and in the sounds of nature and of
persons. She perceived the connections between environment, experience and genetic
makeup that led to musical expression. Her perceptions could be viewed as a
manifestation of understandings of thinkers such as Derrida (Llewelyn, 1986) who put
forward the notion that the essential interrelatedness of things mean that phenomena
outside the self affect our inner being and colour our interpretations of and response to
our world.
In her view of the landscape as a sculptural soundscape, she revealed a unity with the
rhythms of her natural world. It was this, her own realization that caused her to query
the essence of what it might mean to be musical; I suggest that her perceptions offer a
way to redefine our ‗musical ballpark‘. Indeed, in her reflections music became
something that was an intrinsic part of our natural environment and something not
necessarily dependent upon human action – except, of course, in her perception of it.
Her suggested interpretation and her experiences of music as something that enhanced
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social communication also lie comfortably with understandings of Cross (Cross &
Morely, 2002)
While Meg laughed as she commented that her daughter ‗promised‘ her that she would
need to ‗come back as black‘ in another life as a singer so that her singing performances
would affect people, her words recalled two similar stories. One 30-year-old musician14
highlighted the lack of widespread musicality in our society when she reported an
incident which involved an African woman in a class for non-English speakers.
Everyone in the class believed her to have excellent rhythm and singing abilities, so
they asked her to sing for the class. Her reply was revealing: ‗No, you white people
don‘t join in; you just watch!‘ This comment resonates with a postscript from teachereducator participant Harry, the character whose data drives the next chapter. On the
back of an envelope containing written responses, he wrote:
P.S. Not only am I not musical, but I can‘t dance either. However, I do like
music but do not like dancing. White men ain‘t got no rhythm.
14
Participant in the ‗musician‘ study noted in Chapter One.
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Chapter Six
Ballad of Harry Lawson
Man is naturally credulous, incredulous, timid, bold.
(Pascal, 1995, Contradictions, No. 124, p. 31)
Towards the end of the previous chapter, I noted Chris Small‘s plea for education to
become a vital aspect of students‘ lives (1977, p. 211). Small advocated that music
learning be recognised as a quality experience for students as they engaged with music
(in different ways); to do music was not merely to learn about something. For the selfperceived non-musical participants of this study, however, their experiences did not just
teach them that they were ‗not musical;‘ rather it led them to a reality where they did
not feel free to do their own music. Adorno (Bowman, 1998, p. 351) was one of the first
thinkers to emphasise the power of music and the consequent danger that could ensue
should individuals be allowed to become ignorant consumers. This, Adorno warned,
would leave them increasingly vulnerable to political manipulation; in an
acknowledgement of Adorno‘s insight, Cook (1998) noted the inherent values of a
widespread informed appreciation of music. Besides contributing to personal enjoyment
and social cohesion, musical awareness could also provide individuals with the means
to recognise influences that music can have as an ‗agent of ideology‘ (Cook, 1998, p.
122). For the never picked, individuals who had learned that they were not musical, yet
still found that they wanted or needed to use music in their daily life could, I feared,
find themselves in danger of becoming vulnerable consumers of the music industry.
To what extent Western Australian schools contribute to students‘ musical development
is a moot question. Participant experiences, together with information from educational
literature (see Chapter Two) revealed that music education provision in Western
Australia was largely dependent upon the musical background of a particular teacher. In
the official ‗manual‘ written to accompany the revised music curriculum of 1955, Egan
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(1957, Preface) noted that: ‗unless a teacher was musically gifted, or at least
enthusiastic about music, it quite frequently managed to slip out of the time-table
altogether‘. That the situation had not changed very much (even following two major
curriculum revisions) was evident in data provided by primary school principal, Susan,
who explained that:
Music is a part of our curriculum. It‘s not optional in primary schools. How well
the syllabus is executed is another matter. But that applies to all areas of the
curriculum e.g.: science is supposed to get a raw deal too.
It was valuable to have four participants in this research who were school teachers
(Rhonda taught in a high school, and Susan, Janice and Caddy worked in primary
schools). Their experiences helped to give a real picture of what actually happened in
schools notwithstanding policy requirements. All four revealed some concern that music
educational provision was not served well by the ‗specialist‘ system and that it was not
possible to ensure that all children had an opportunity for a comprehensive music
education. Junior primary teacher, Janice lamented that:
…an awful thing that‘s happening is that there‘s less and less spontaneous
singing happening in classes now…too damn busy – even junior primary – it‘s
real sad. You don‘t feel you can afford that half an hour at the beginning of the
day where you think ‗Oh my God, it‘s half past nine and you haven‘t done any
work yet‘ ‗cos you were singing. You can‘t afford that nowadays. There‘s too
much pressure, even with the little kids and even in schools where there‘s not
the expectations…so it‘s becoming a specialised thing where if you don‘t have a
music specialist not much music happens in schools. Sad. Very sad.
Susan responded to this information with:
Nonsense. Music is a part of the curriculum and is supposed to be provided to all
children. The problem with music specialist programs is that they exclude
TEACHERS. We tried various approaches to overcome this but because it was
DOTT (Duties Other Than Teaching) time, very difficult. The music teacher did
teach songs for assembly singing in which everyone participated. Words and
music given to teachers who were expected to have their classes practise. My
belief is that participation in musical experiences, including movement to
music/dance which I encouraged as part of Phys Ed program is essential in
enhancing all other learning.
…and where does that leave us?
This question resonated throughout the data of the participants. Was it possible that the
negative musical experiences of Sonya which led to her ‗rueful‘ acceptance of not being
musical were not rare? I planned to extend my exploration data by selecting individuals
who could represent contrasting categories of age and perception; Harry, a 60-year-old
teacher educator and Chas, a 19-year-old university drop-out presented different
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responses to their musical environment. While both were self-professed non-musicians,
one presented himself as non-musical whereas the other maintained that all humans
were musical to some degree. In this chapter I focus on professional academic, Harry.
Although this experienced educator who specialised in preparing pre-service teachers
considered that he was ‗not musical,‘ he took care to ensure that I understood that he
always included music in his teacher education program.
Data as interpretation: subjectivities facing subjectivities
Knowledgeable yet confusingly complex, Harry delivered data that was both
entertaining and deeply thought provoking. Inevitably, I perceived his words through
my own subjectivity and I was aware of Harry‘ telling that it was a story coloured by his
own perceptions (his interpretations of his life experiences). In addition, as an
experienced researcher himself, Harry brought an intellectual perspective to both his
story and to my study. I gradually realised that his perspective was close to what
Levering (2006) termed ‗the intellectualist [who] reduces all observation
to…judgement‘. As Levering (2006) postulates, this situation leads to a danger of
making ‗no distinction between feeling, seeing and hearing‘. Yet, most humans do
distinguish between these senses; and Harry was human.
In the first interview, Harry dominated as the experienced educator/researcher. He was
the expert. It was not until I requested a second interview that he admitted that it was a
‗harrowing‘ process for him. In that initial meeting, however, it was Harry who knew
what was what! He knew all about the practical, real aspect of music in the primary
classroom where an overcrowded curriculum meant that music necessarily received
minimal attention. I asked him to consider the children who would really like to make
music:
Harry:
Eve:
Harry:
Eve:
…the ‗really would like to make music‘ stuff…I mean that was
why the traditional, compulsory school approach was to
approach that through singing…because that was the resource
that was available um which would best allow children to do
that. They brought their own instrument with them.
And then you get some little kid come and say ‗why is it that I
can‘t sing when the other…and another can?
Yes. All of that. I mean, that‘s part of the reason why you‘ll
have the capacity for the collective exercise to allow those
people to drop out without feeling disastrous. They just mouth
the words and look as though they are…performing. But, what
do you expect the teacher to be able to do about it? The answer
was that ‗No you had no expectations.‘ The teacher wouldn‘t do
anything about it. That is, there was no notion of training singers
No…it‘s…
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Harry:
…the technical leap between that…I mean you can get kids to
paint because it doesn‘t require a huge technical competence on
either the part of the equipment or the teacher. Music‘s different
from that. You do require…I mean…the clap sticks and all the
rest of it are pretty much the equivalent of the…of the voice.
But beyond that sort of level of sophistication, the sort of
instrumentation that one needs and level of sophistication the
teacher needs is a big leap beyond the bone ignorant and the no
resources.
There, in that first interview, Harry presented an understanding that music was a
performance. From his point of view, then, an individual needed to be trained to do
music; musician teachers were needed to do that. He later argued that ‗painting and
singing were equivalent so long as there was no requirement to meet artistic standards‘;
engaging students in art work would then not require such ‗technical competence‘ from
the teacher.
It was clear that my conception of music and musicking were anathema to the view
espoused by Harry. As I listened to his story I could imagine his view of the training
process followed by successful performance. Yet, was this not the scenario that I
allowed to affect my own self-perception? My underlying belief, however, was that
music was an instinctive human phenomenon and that everyone could do music in their
own way; Small actually surmised that music was ‗part of the survival equipment of
every human being‘ (1998, p. 212). It was a fact for me though; like Sonya, I had
learned ‗that other people didn't enjoy hearing me that much‘. While I did realise that
this was a perception imposed by particular circumstances, and that other people did
want me to ‗music‘ with them, I was alert to the fact that my musical world was very
different from that inhabited by Harry. This led me to a deep concern about
misinterpreting his meaning. It was partly ameliorated, however, when I sent a draft of
The ballad of the never picked to Sonya. She wrote back that she
…felt immediate empathy with many of your other participants - Chas in
particular, and Harry. I warmed to their stories immediately, then found that
Harry shares my taste in jazz. I discovered the magic of cool jazz in my teens.
It's never left me.
In this way a vibrant iterative process between researcher and participant together with
vicarious participant to participant reflections resulted in allowing multiple minds to
interpret data. So it was possible that Harry would get an unbiased portrayal.
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However, as researcher, it was I who held the position of power. I would decide which
details would be included and which would be omitted. So I was keenly aware that it
was my task to provide sufficient information for the readers to enable them to become
active interpreters of this text. To ensure this, they must be allowed to ‗know‘ enough
about key participants so that they, too, could bring their informed perspective to
engage in this search for meaning. But my own subjectivity began to falter. With ongoing connections between myself and informants, my own musical subjectivity was
experiencing an empathy that affected change. From being someone who had
commenced this study with an impression that I was comparatively ‗musical‘, I was
beginning to feel entirely ‗unmusical‘. My deepest fear was manifest in the certainty
that, when exposed alone in front of listeners, I could not sing in tune.
While Peshkin imagined himself clothed in his subjectivity (1988, p. 17) I had
experienced my musical self as something inseparable from my whole subjectivity; my
musical self was part of my identity. As I become increasingly immersed in
participants‘ stories, weaknesses in my musical self became clearly focussed; beliefs in
my musical strengths slipped from my awareness . In the early months of ‗writing‘ the
ballad (that is, as I responded to the ballad rhythms and organised participant words into
ballad form) my empathy evolved to something other than an understanding and feeling
for participants. I began to agonise over my own musical inadequacies and detailed
these in journal entries. I re-lived fears of personal performance through Sonya‘s story; I
could not only ‗see‘ her singing in the car and singing while she was washing up I also
began to feel her overwhelmingly reluctant acceptance of being not musical. Unlike
Sonya, however, I had believed that I could not succumb to such thinking. While I
readily acknowledged that I could never have become a professional musician, I did not
believe such a reality could affect my self-view as being ‗musical‘. As a human, I did
not believe that I could become so alienated from my musicality; to accept, as Sonya
did, that ‗I'm not even in the same ballpark‘ as a musician. I had to ask myself how it
was possible that I acknowledged my lack of musical ability only to selected
participants like Ada, Caterina, Meg and several others. While I did not initially speak
about this with Harry or Chas, could it be the time to do so? I forwarded a copy of my
subjective reflections to Harry.
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Harry’s Story
Text from Harry would not succumb to the rhythm of the ballad. After much reflection,
however, I became aware of an underlying rhythm that, in itself, held meaning. As a
self-confessed ‗jazz partisan‘ Harry acknowledged that it was music that uplifted him
when he was feeling ‗down and in a mess‘. While rhythmic patterns flowed from
principal participants of the ballad of the never picked, where poignancy (Sonya) or
defiance (Vic) resonated with the distinctive rhythmic character of the ballad, at first I
could sense little beyond contradictions in the words of Harry. Then I began to notice
something intrinsically poetic in his words; my appreciation deepened as I continually
revisited his text. I became painfully aware just how difficult a task it must be for
someone who was convinced that he was ‗not musical‘ and who ‗can‘t sing, not even in
the shower,‘ to take part in research on musicality. This educator, an intellectual with
determined honesty and rich understanding of the research process, delivered
contradictions and queries that provoked new perceptions.
While he denied his own potential to do music, this did not apply to his ‗appreciation‘.
He noted that his need for music varied, saying that ‗on some occasions it is very
important and very central and I can go for quite some distance then without engaging
in it at all.‘ Iterative reflections on data from two extended interviews, telephone
conversations, emails and handwritten responses to queries led to new understandings.
Harry‘s philosophic perceptions provided invaluable insights into both his own and
other participant experiences. A first major break-through relating to music in our
society occurred when contradictions within his data demonstrated an ‗unnatural‘
distancing between his potential reality and his learned acceptance of a ‗non-musical‘
self. It was at this stage of my analysis that Harry challenged me to clarify my own
values. He commented that my research was based on something which might ‗lead a
person to choose not to do what you value for reasons of your own‘. This led to further
literature search and his contributions became a catalyst towards theory.
When, at fifteen, Harry began an affinity with jazz, his understanding was that this was
a superior form of music where appreciation was necessarily limited to the elite. At
eighteen, he decided to learn the trumpet in an attempt to see if he could make some of
this music himself. His ‗disappointment that the results were not as attractive as one
might‘ve wished‘ led to his life-long conviction that he was ‗not musical‘. He failed to
see the difference between his efforts towards music making and his efforts towards
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being an athlete at school. While his failure to make the school team as a runner did not
stop him from walking and running per se, his lack of immediate prowess on the
trumpet did lead to a lifelong avoidance of his own musical ‗doing‘. Furthermore,
despite not displaying fine mathematical skills, he did continue to learn maths at school
and did gain certain proficiency. Rather than attribute his ‗disappointment‘ to a lack of
any developmental opportunity in music learning, Harry branded himself ‗not musical‘.
In his own brief summary he verified his conviction that he did not have the potential to
do music:
Myself and ‗musical‘? I enjoy and it is, for me a significant and enriching part of
my life…to listen to music on occasion. On some occasions it is very important
and very central and I can go quite for some distance then without engaging in it
at all…but there are whole lots of areas that I just can‘t listen to because it
causes me discomfort…and, my musicality does not extend to the capacity to
produce music in a satisfying manner.
Assumptions about such interrelationships between achievement and self-perceptions
have been challenged (Hattie, 1992, pp. 200-201). Negative and positive relationships
are outcomes of perceived success, or lack thereof, as action affects self-concept.
Hattie‘s meta-analysis of extant studies in 1992 shows that this is a complex multifaceted area, in which there is no straightforward research method available to enable
results to be usefully generalized. In Harry‘s case, however, his experience revealed a
situation where a short-lived attempt to play the trumpet led to a negative relationship
between the self and development of musical ability. This one very brief attempt to
master an instrument affected not only himself as an individual, but also led him to be
prepared to accept a similar possibility regarding his young grandchildren and their
potential musicality:
I wouldn‘t think of them as mathematical or musical etc., but if they did
something which showed that they were talented or appreciative – they mean
two different things – then I would say, ‗yes mathematically talented or
appreciative or musically talented or appreciative‘. I haven‘t seen [them do
anything to indicate that they are] mathematically or musically [talented].
As I continued to analyse data, it was useful to remember Hattie‘s understanding that
‗self-concept exists only in its manifestations‘ (Hattie, 1992, p. 242). My task, then, was
to explore any impacts that prior musical reality might have had on a participant‘s selfview and what, if any, affects this might have had on consequent behaviour. It was also
helpful to note that a person‘s music, along with other aspects of life, might have
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implications for the forming and re-forming of self-identity (Giddens, 1991, p. 5).
Harry, for instance, recognised music as a powerful means of his ‗carving out a whole
identity, [where] in the excitement of adolescence it contributed to…my defining myself
as me.‘ He acknowledged how it defined his ‗being‘ and was a source of bonding with
others as he aligned himself with other jazz fans. Despising other popular music of the
time, this jazz affiliation gave him an opportunity for exciting listening and socialising
experiences as he associated with ‗proper sort of people‘. While he was happy to label
himself as a jazz partisan and emphasised the central role that particular music played in
the defining of the self, as a teacher educator he steadily maintained that music was an
‗extra‘ and not something that needed to be included as part of the core curriculum.
Nevertheless, he took care to ensure that time was made available in the pre-service
teaching course for a music education component ‗when it would have been easier to
leave it out‘.
Music in education
Harry later provided more specific detail regarding music in pre-service teaching:
Primary teachers in Western Australia usually have had music in their preservice course. 1913 Claremont Calendar shows 1 hour per week during the 2
year course. Learning the recorder was an ordeal for both student and those who
heard them practice! That continued up to, perhaps, the mid 1980‘s.
While his attempts to maintain music in the pre-service teacher education course may be
viewed as mere acceptance of an inevitable reality, there was no simple solution. In fact,
there were not enough primary teachers available who could teach music with
competence, so it was important to ask whether it would ever be possible to change this
situation unless emerging primary teachers could experience a more comprehensive
music component in their own pre-service education. Yet, Temmerman (2006, p. 274)
reports that the current state of teacher education in music remains unsatisfactory and
does not prepare teachers for effective ‗arts‘ teaching. Further, as reported in the recent
National Review (Australian Government Department of Education, 2005, p. 6), most
universities have decreased pre-service music education. It should be no surprise, then,
that many teachers find it difficult to include music in their classrooms. Harry‘s position
revealed a contradiction; on the one hand, he acknowledged how music in school could
‗open up opportunities for people to listen [and cause students] to grow as individuals in
the process,‘ yet, on the other hand, he accepted the status quo of minimal availability of
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music in schools. Table 11 provides an overview of Harry‘s perceptions of music in
education in Western Australia.
Table 11: Music in education
Harry‘s words
Comments
…the assumption that these things are optional extras – the
frills – is still ‗ngrained in the standard rhetoric of the schools.
Harry voices a widely held
perception.
I‘m trying to meet, as best I can, the real demands…trying to
change things as well…you have to do what is central to the
task – and if the task is defined centrally by the way the schools
operate, that‘s the overriding consideration.
It is necessary to work
within the overall structure
of educational provision in
the State.
If a teacher had musical qualities and excitement and
enthusiasm, I‘d want ‗em to run with it…and build their
classroom around their qualities. If [these] happened to music,
that‘s good. If it happened to be art, it‘s o.k. If it happened to be
football, well so be it. I mean, music‘s not important. It‘s a side
piece to the whole educational business and if you have a
chance [to have someone to teach music] what you [often] get
is a broken down hack of a teacher who can‘t teach properly,
stuff that‘s not important and it‘s a chance to riot.
He accepted that the
provision of music (and
other ‗extras‘) in education
was left to chance and had
observed that it was often
taught by someone not ‗up
to the task‘.
Well, the capacity to teach is the capacity to enable people to
make the connections to these things. Now, the fact that I
couldn‘t play the music myself was no great handicap.
Harry addresses the notion
that a teacher does not have
to be an expert in a
particular area of learning.
It didn‘t take a whole hellofa lot of skill on the part of the
teacher…for the most part, in primary school, what you had to
do was, simply turn the radio on at the time…that the music
broadcast was on…and then you sing along to the radio.
Class singing to ‗music of
the air‘ was all that Harry
experienced as ‗music
education‘ at school.
…this collective exercise to allow those people to drop out
without feeling disastrous. They just mouth the words and look
as though they are…performing. But, what do you expect the
teacher to be able to do about it? The answer was that ‗No you
had no expectations.‘ The teacher wouldn‘t do anything about
it. That is, there was no notion of training singers.
While he deplores any
suggestion of education as
‗training,‘ Harry perceived
that this would be the norm
for music learning.
…it was simply just a nice thing to do and if kids felt
comfortable and let fly and that was it well, ‗she‘ll be right
mate‘…as soon as you go beyond that, there are technical
requirements of teaching music…any form of instrumental
music, there‘s a quantum leap between that one point and
another
To teach mathematics
required that the teacher
knew how to teach in a
developmentally
satisfactory way. Yet Harry
accepted that the ‗system‘
could only provide limited
teacher preparation for
music teaching.
From Harry‘s perspective, there are two major difficulties preventing adequate
provision of music in the classroom: the cost of instruments and the non-availability of
effective teachers with musical skills. A contradictory notion here was that he did not
see the need for teachers with a rich understanding of music education to teach music in
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the classroom yet later acknowledged that schools required effective teachers ‗with
musical skills‘.
It appeared contradictory that his immersion in jazz had enhanced self-development and
helped him to cope with personal traumatic situations, yet this did not colour his
acceptance of inadequate music provision that he had experienced in schools as a child.
While he remembered that music was ‗like sums, it was another thing you did at
school,‘ he also viewed music as a specific activity that enabled an individual to display
a particular talent. For Harry, unless an individual were prepared to put in excessively
‗hard yards, then music was something that only gifted people could do. His own story
illustrates his road to this understanding.
‘I’m not musical’: Confirmed
During the five years of my contact with Harry for this study, he rejected any attempt on
my part to temper his view regarding human musicality; he steadfastly maintained an
adherence to the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et. al., 1998, p. 399). He remained convinced
that being musical was innate; from his point of view, this was sensible as it would
obviate the need for fruitless hours of work. This view qualified him to join 75% of
education professionals in England (Sloboda, 1996, p. 108). It also provided a reason
for his acceptance of music as a frill in the primary school curriculum, which
simultaneously threw some light on his misperception of my quest. While he accepted
that music could be ‗a significant and enriching part of life for those who ‗appreciate it‘,
he could not condone my ‗strange‘ notion that music learning and doing were as natural
for humans as were the development of motor skills and the learning of language and
mathematics.
I realised that it was important to explore the extent to which the contradictory views
manifest in data from Harry might be general in our society. What could his experience
of music reveal about musicality in our Western society? I noted that the self-perceived
non-musical individuals in this study had little conception of musicality as an instinctive
aspect of human beings. While Harry did comment that the ‗talent oriented is only one
narrow aspect of musical,‘ it did not seem possible for him to reflect on music as a
phenomenon that did not involve performance or public acceptance. When talking about
sport, although not ‗talented‘ enough to become part of the school‘s athletic team, he
still acknowledged that he could walk and play basketball. He could see no comparison
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between his decision to avoid further music playing resulting from the lack of ‗feedback
of instantaneous success or feeling disappointed that the results were not as attractive as
one might‘ve wished‘ and his decision to continue with his involvement in sport despite
the fact that he did not win a place in the elite team.
I found that my attempt to effectively communicate with Harry about non-expert
musicality fell short of mutual understanding. Could this problem in our communication
be due to a ‗difficulty with the terminology‘? Harry proceeded to define ‗not musical‘ as
‗not unusually talented but can be part of the greater population for whom music is a
part of life in various ways‘. Yet, despite this apparently inclusive ‗definition‘, his
personal reality was dominated by his belief that being ‗musical is a thing one is or one
isn‘t‘; it was within this perspective that he responded to my queries. Although he did
appear to perceive my meaning (where the term, ‗musical,‘ applied to all humans) in his
second interview his erstwhile belief continued to dominate. My attempts to compare
his willingness to play sport with his determination not to engage in any music making
began to evoke a deeper reflection from him. Harry commented that his decision not to
take part in music making
…may be partly due to the feedback of lack of instantaneous success or the
disappointment the results were not as attractive as one might‘ve wished.
I don‘t think that connects…where the emphasis is on ‗I am not musical‘
meaning ‗I am not musically talented‘ as a performer. ‗cos all of those
appreciative aspects of it are still capable of being carried through to at least a
level of fulfilment and understanding without the capacity to either beat the
clapping sticks in rhythm or being one man orchestra
I enjoy music and for me it is a significant and enriching part of my life to listen
to music on occasion. On some occasions it is very important and very central
and I can go quite for some distance then without engaging in it at all. …but
there are whole lots of areas that I just can‘t listen to because it causes me
discomfort…and, my musicality does not extend to the capacity to produce
music in a satisfying manner
I attempted to provoke more considerations and referred back to his comments on being
an athlete. I suggested that even if individuals were not selected as having top athletic
potential they would continue to do physical activities. His challenging reply gave me
further food for thought: ‗That‘s not what we‘re talking about…we‘re talking about
someone who‘s a naturally talented athlete as a person – as opposed to a person who
works hard at it.‘
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It seemed that Harry‘s perception of musicality was entirely embedded in the idea of
giftedness, so much so, that it was difficult to cut across assumptions to engage in direct
dialogue about a general human musicality that did not imply expert, practiced
performance. His view, however, had not prevented his enthusiastic classroom
‗performance‘ when, as a student teacher, he had engaged young students in jazz music
listening and appreciation. As with Noddings‘ (2003, p. 245) conviction of teaching
practice, when Harry ‗taught‘ the class, he demonstrated a commitment that went
beyond the particular jazz content of the lesson as he attempted to share his passion and
challenge the students to appreciate something that he valued and believed had more
worth than the ‗pop‘ music at the time.
Epiphany I
Understandings from Habermas (1987) were useful as I wrestled with conflicting data.
It was, however, Harry‘s determination to maintain his self-view of being ‗not musical‘
that led me to recognise that an aspect of societal significance lay within his data. His
words revealed a gap between how he perceived himself to be, as a musical being, and
what he had learned that he was as a result of his societal influences. His reality
demonstrated an irreconcilable distancing between his innate human potential and
possible behaviours allowed by his cultural reality. Several of his perceptions,
summarised in Table 12, indicate how contradictions within his data helped to expose
societal influences. These contradictions revealed societal persuasions that dictated a
distancing between condoned behaviour and human potential.
Table 12: Contradictions reveal social persuasions.
Harry’s ISNESS
Harry’s KNOWINGNESS
Harry’s Perceived Human Reality
Harry’s Knowledge about his reality
Music is part of the lifeworld.
Harry believed the ‗talent notion‘ is undeniable.
‗Musical…is a thing one is or one isn‘t.‘
Humans respond to music.
‗…there‘ve been times when, feeling
particularly down and in a mess, that I can
be very uplifted by and helped by sticken‘
sum, some ol‘ favourites that will
really…excite and please.‘
‗Can‘t sing, not even in the shower.‘
‗…it was a way of carving out a whole
identity…very defining of one‘s
understandings…of oneself and other
‗But I‘m not musical.‘
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things.‘
‗Music was central to a whole cohort of
people with whom one worked.‘
‗…being a jazz fan was a mark of superior
standing.‘
Music is an aid to social interaction
Harry felt that he was superior because of his
appreciation of jazz.
‗We learn by being exposed to something
in the environment (e.g. grammar).‘
Attempt to ‗actually produce…it myself‘ at age
eighteen. ‗Well, at that point, I couldn‘t.‘
His Australian bush background comprises
minimal exposure to music making and
music listening.
Generalises that ‗Italian operatic stuff or the
French ballet [are] peculiarly nineteenth
century abominations,‘
Reveals a ‗traditional bush masculine approach
where you can shove both your fairy skirts and
an‘ your two ton Tessies and leave ‗em.‘
Minimal music available in his home
environment.
Children have an opportunity to be musical.
No musical instruments or much music
playing in his home. No particular
encouragement for music listening or
learning. Yet Pitts and her colleagues (Pitts
et al., 2000) find these are essential
prerequisites to successful music learners.
His children had ‗the opportunity [because of
school]. My eldest plays clarinet (learned at
school) and now sings in PUCS – without my
overt encouragement. I do attend her concerts.
Eldest granddaughter learns guitar –
encouraged by her mother.‘
Music helps humans to express emotions
No encouragement for his children to learn to
make their own music.
Harry ‘Lawson’
When I began the second interview with Harry in his office, his wife was present for the
first five minutes; she wondered how it could be that he was a part of a study on
musicality. He turned to her and asked: ‗You mean, I‘m not musical?‘ In a long, drawn
out ‗No he‘s not musical,‘ her reply was unequivocal. Could it be that her response
represented a more general societal attitude? Except for several direct references to
school and education, it was true that I had found it impossible to use much data from
Harry in the construction of the ballad. Many of his words were not comfortable with
the rhythm of the ballad. Further, while he avoided mentioning his self-perceived lack
of musical abilities when speaking face to face, on the telephone he had protested: ‗I
can‘t hold a tune. I can‘t even sing in the shower.‘ Could Harry really be not musical?
Yet he clearly recalled the signature tune of the ‗Kindergarten of the Air‘ as a child. It
was etched in his aural memory. An excerpt from interview data revealed that Harry not
only had a clear memory of ‗doing‘ music, but that it was a ‗normal‘ thing to do:
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Eve
…and you can still remember?
Harry
I am remembering…remembering it at present.
Eve
So…is it the tune that goes ‗dyum p dum par dum par dum, [that is]
dym par dym par dum dum par dum‘?
Harry
Yes.
Eve
And you can recall that…
Harry
Yes I can
Eve
So…
Harry
But most other things out of my childhood I can‘t.
Eve
No. You also recalled a little bit of having the ABC songs in the
classroom.
Harry
Yes, we certainly did that. That was a substitute for music
education.
Eve
Can you at all recall how…
Harry
Sing along with the radio, basically. Music of the Air, I think it was
called.
Eve
Mm…do you remember at all how you felt when that was on?
Harry
Yeah, it was like sums. Another thing you did at school.
So, Harry had joined in with singing when he was a child. But as an adult he was
convinced that he could not sing, not even ‗in the shower‘. At first I failed to detect any
deeper meaning beneath some of his intentionally flippant observations. However, by
the time I had lived with Harry‘s text over several years, I became aware of an
emotional constriction; ongoing reflection together with iterative contact began to reveal
that Harry was an intellectual who denied vital aspects of being. His use of words
revealed not only a dedicated educator but a human being with his own idiosyncratic
rhythm that could carry its own meaning (Bar-Elli, G. 2006, p. 227).Where Wittgenstein
acknowledged the expression of feeling through the means of delivery of words (in BarElli, 2006, p. 226) I recognised a restraint in the voice of Harry where inherent
restriction undermined free human expression; some of his words and references were
used as a deliberate means to evade exposure of feelings. This did not mean there was
no passion for ideals, however, and his voice of genuine concern for the disadvantaged
led me to recognise more subtleties in this teacher educator‘s rhythm.
In the works of Henry Lawson, with his concern for the underdog, I heard similarities to
Harry‘s world. The early twentieth century poet‘s writings constantly drove towards the
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exposure of bitter reality. While Lawson did write some poems that ‗walked off into the
bush and grew themselves folktunes‘ (Manifold 1964, p. x), his poem, Faces in the
Street refused to dance lightly. Grim reality dominated as Lawson uncovered lies of the
rich as they played with power. Like Harry, he worked to expose realities that faced
those who lack essential means to live in comfort. Faces in the Street (see Appendix E)
became a model for presenting perceptions of Harry:
Music’s Just A Frill
When I got interested in jazz - music was defining
Mind you I haven’t tried [the] chords but know that it is happening
[And it’s] a substantial way of defining one’s being.
[To be] a jazz fan is a mark of…superior standing.
Carving out, Carving out
Out a whole identity
It was a way of carving out a whole identity
The Presley stuff’s rejected as unmitigated garbage
[Others, though find such] stuff as their [own] defining rubbish.
[Just like the few who are] into classical [selection]
Still not proper people though; they’d make the ‘blues’ connection .
Central role, central role
Yeah…of socialisation
Music’s a way of badging selves; partaking of tradition.
It’s true I can recall the tune of Kindy of the Air
But other childhood memories, they’re really just not there.
On some occasions it’s important and very central
Then I can go for [ages] without engaging at all.
Are or not, are or not.
Talented and musical.
[Oh! I tried the trumpet just to find that I’m] not a natural.
My young grandchildren now, seem not so talented to me,
One said she was more, even four, when she was only three!
So [I’d not] think they are mathematical or musical
Unless they did something to show that such things are central.
Have to show, have to show
That they are so musical.
Like me where my efforts and commitment went to basketball.
I must assume that Formal Music Learning is the same
As other Learning favoured [by rich aspirants of fame]
Systematically distributed for elites in a form
That favours them and leaves just so few chances for the poor.
Blasting ear, blasting ear
When tootling on your bassoon,
While poor kids and Aboriginals hear no bloody trombones!
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I mean that it’s an add on and that music’s just a frill
It’s not the Greek Gymnasium [where] music’s essential
I mean, like art [and stuff] it’s chucked into one little heap
Because there’re more good things [to] do than time [it] will permit
real demands, real demands
you can’t do everything so
language, maths and science and social science are central to the task
Of course music’s been relegated to the outer fringes
[For] music’s not important to the educational business.
Sheer madness to put a first year out in reality
[For] it’s a chance to riot when they can’t teach properly.
Teach[ing] frills, teaching frills
Primary or secondary.
Important stuff like maths and language take the majority.
A female voice, soprano…the most unattractive sound,
Old contralto that can belto…I don’t like her around.
You can shove both your fairy skirts and your two ton Tessies!
Operatic stuff, French ballet…both abominations!
Teeth on edge, teeth on edge,
Unpleasant experiences.
Yet music gave me strength to cope with depressing situations.
In an email response after receiving a copy of Music’s just a frill, Harry commented that
he enjoyed the ‗Harry Lawson‘ ballad. He did make it clear, however, that he
considered himself to be a good sportsman, despite not being ‗athletic‘. He also raised
important questions that led me to reflect on music in our society:
I am not athletic but played A Grade basketball and crewed on a yacht that won
a national championship. What conception of person and society is it that
requires Plato to insist that early education be in music and gymnasium? What
conception of person and society underlies your notion of ‗musicality‘?
It was his final response, however, that set me on the road to deeper understanding:
Your definition of ‗unmusical‘, ‗not musical‘ will need to make clear how some
attitudes, values, personality characteristics, whatever, lead a person to choose
not to do what you value for reasons of your own.
It was also helpful to present the situation Harry experienced as one that related to what
Searle (1994) calls the ‗aspect of familiarity.‘ Besides Wittgenstein, Harry
acknowledged Searle to be an influential philosopher towards his understanding of
educational theory so I considered that it could be fruitful to reflect on Searle‘s (1995)
pragmatic claim that we accept as knowledge those aspects of living that are ‗objective.‘
As he attempted to probe The problem of consciousness (1994, p. 98) Searle wrote: ‗we
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can have an epistemically objective science of a domain that is ontologically
subjective.‘ While, Harry noted that, ‗this has a specific and distinctive meaning for
Searle‘ yet, with the help of responses from Harry, this led me towards a second major
insight during this research.
Epiphany II:
Again, it was the challenge presented by thoughts and experiences of Harry that led me
towards a second major break-through in understanding. Although Harry‘s data came
directly from his own rational perceptions, it seemed to me that his story did not
represent ‗reasonable‘ logic. On the one hand his story told of an intellectual and
emotional enjoyment of music, yet, on the other he consistently denied his musicality.
Presented with these deep contradictions I struggled to find meaning, especially in the
light of recent research that delivered increasing substantiation of the musical
hardwiring of humans (Gray, Krause et al. 2001; Tramo, 2001).
From my point of view, data from interviews with rational educator Harry continued to
give an irrational view of what it is to be a musical being. Upon reading my reflections
at this stage in the research process, Harry countered, ‗You did not ask what is a musical
being – only what is musical.‘ It seemed that neither researcher nor researched could
reach an agreed interpretation. Harry wrote in an email that:
…the reason for picking out a person as being ‗musical‘ as opposed to some
other persons is that they are naturally talented. This says nothing about whether
all have the capacity to enjoy and participate in music at some level of
satisfaction.
While I entirely agreed with his statement, it still did not address his own experience
where he had decided that he was not musical after a brief attempt to learn the trumpet.
It was necessary to trace back through our communications to find where I was failing
to clearly express my meaning.
From his perspective, Harry recalled me asking ‗are you musical?‘ He challenged me to
demonstrate the validity of my study:
If you ask ‗are you musical?‘ as a meaningful question it presupposes that one
who can answer that question (possessing language etc) might meaningfully
answer ‗no‘. What would such a person look like? If, as you say, your thesis is
about ‗all of us‘ I do not see how being 'musical' in your sense then can
distinguish between those who are and those who are not. Thus either a
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meaningless or not very useful question. Whereas there is a sense of ‗musical‘
that does distinguish the unusually talented from the rest and a question posed in
those terms does make sense. Your use of ‗unmusical‘ does then pose the real
question as to what such a being might look like. ‗Not musical‘ is also
problematic in your sense.
Again, he was correct as he responded to my research as he perceived it. So, I returned
to material from the initial interviews. My first inquiry related to perceptions about
musicality followed several comments about Harry‘s primary school years:
Eve
…if we can come to your grown-up status and ask…‗musicality‘, ‗musical‘
– just any thoughts that might come to your mind in thinking those terms.
Harry
‗Musicality‘ is not a word that I have come across.
Eve
…‗musical‘?
H
…until you happen to inflict it upon me…and it still hasn‘t become any
more attractive. So – it‘s not a concept, it‘s a term that you use that I don‘t
understand or have any connection to. Now…that someone might be
musical is a concept that I could understand. But ‗musicality‘ is not a term
that makes any sense at all. So, it‘s a linguistic problem.
E
So ‗musical‘ is quite…
H
…is a thing one is or one isn‘t.
E
Mathematical.
H
Yes, or other talent is…able to do.
I began to realise that, as the director of this study, I had unintentionally failed to make
my meaning clear. This was apparent in the second interview where Harry‘s wife
echoed his perception in her assumption. Prior to this interview, we had a brief
conversation where the misconception of my intent was clear. I had attempted to pick
up on this:
Eve
…what did you say before? What did you say…you asked
what was I going to interview…about?
Wife
You said, his musical talents.
Harry
Who said that?
Wife
He said ‗his musical talents‘
Harry
Ah! And you said?
Wife
Non-existent!
Harry
[All laugh.] You mean, I‘m not musical?
Wife
Yes [laughing]
Eve
You wouldn‘t like to comment on why you said that,
would you?
Wife
No [drawn out], he‘s not musical.
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What, then, did Harry believe to be essential aspects of music? What was it about
musicality that he thought I was investigating? I continued in my attempt to portray my
perceptions of music as an instinctive aspect of humans; to explore it as an aspect that
was being undermined by assumptions within our culture. Despite mutual
misunderstandings, I began to suspect that entrenched convictions from Harry were
leading somewhere; but ‗where‘? As I revisited the work of Small (1977) I took note of
his directive that ‗[m]usic is too important to be left to the musicians, and in recognizing
this fact we strike a blow at the experts‘ domination, not only of our music but also of
our very lives‘ (p. 214). Could it be that answers lay in work already done? It became
important not only to consider data alongside available literature, but to also take
participant reflections to a broader community. As Haynes (2006) insists, ‗a thesis
written ‗in secret‘ and seen only by a supervisor and some examiners is less well
supported in its claim to have produced new knowledge than is one opened to broader
scrutiny during the conduct of the research‘. Lincoln (2000, p. 330) also advises that it
is important to involve a wider community of readers.
With such directives in mind, I sought readers from a variety of backgrounds who could
bring different perspectives to interpretations of the data: these included a professional
musician, an academic, a health worker, a software expert, a language specialist, and a
geophysicist. Their readings were important in my attempt to limit the danger of
participant understandings being driven by researcher persuasion and being filtered only
through the researcher‘s reflections. In their considerations of Harry‘s claim that he was
not musical because he could not play an instrument, both the musician and the health
worker suggested that he had a problem about musicality because he confused ‗natural
musicianship with musical training and that he did not know the difference between
‗musical‘ and ‗musician‘.‘ When I told him about this, Harry responded with a
definitive ‗no‘ to every such perception. He then wrote:
If I knew what you thought schools should do about your identified problem
then it might be easier. On your account! I acknowledge that I am musical in that
I listen to and enjoy music. On my account, I am not musical in that I do not
perform music. As your account does not require all musical people to perform
music, what must schools do that they are not now doing and what must they
stop doing? Telling children that their performance in any subject or activity is
not up to standard is the very stuff of schooling. You got this sum wrong, you
are not picked for the footy team, you must not behave in that disgusting
manner, etc.
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Again, he raised important issues. Again, I doubted the foundations of my study. Could
it be that the difference does only lie in our idiosyncratic use of language? Harry
continued:
The reason for picking out a person as being ‗musical‘ as opposed to some other
persons is that they are naturally talented. This says nothing about whether all
have the capacity to enjoy and participate in music at some level of satisfaction.
Your further claim ‗that only the elite have opportunities etc‘ therefore does not
follow. The statements about not willing to commit the time and effort required
in the circumstances are indications that Harry thinks a person who is not
‗musical‘ could make music and is not ‗unmusical‘
Harry suggested that the problem which pre-empted a mutually acceptable
understanding of the central issue of this study was that we were not agreeing on actual
meanings of ‗unmusical‘ and ‗not musical‘. As I have already mentioned, he argued that
I ‗need to make clear how some attitudes, values, personality characteristics, whatever,
lead a person to choose not to do what you value for reasons of your own.‘ He ensured
that his view was very clear:
What about I do not get sufficient enjoyment, gratification etc from such an act?
What about I do not feel so exulted as to burst into song? These are some
alternate explanations that do not fit your thesis but which may have validity.
Indeed, his words did hold a valid perspective, one that emanated from someone who
had experienced his formative educational years in a ‗value [system] appropriated by
Western musicology and music education‘ (Lines, 2003, p. 4) where the ‗everyday
presencing of music‘ (Lines, 2003, p. 3) was detached from vibrant music making. This
phenomenon was commented upon by a primary school teacher ‗musical non-musician‘
when she noted that ‗the music teacher in school…owns the music‘. A primary school
principal participant also observed that music specialists in the school seem to have the
effect of teachers losing contact with what was going on in music and minimal music
being heard around the school. Her observation was echoed in another musical nonmusician primary class teacher‘s experience following the departure of a music
specialist from the school: ‗It‘s almost like we‘ve been given permission [to do music]
and yet we‘ve always had the permission. When there was no music specialist we were
tending to do a lot more music with the kids on a regular basis.‘ Small‘s point,
mentioned above that ‗music is too important to be left to the musicians‘ (1977, p. 214)
became ever more poignant.
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This further challenge about music and values led me to continued reflection and
reading. It gradually became clear that responses from Harry did not affect my essential
argument, but they did give insight into his misperceptions regarding issues central to
my research. Musicality, according to his view still encompassed the notion of music as
performance where the naturally talented and possibly excellent performer made music
for others‘ appreciation and judgement. He could not hear my concern about the
everyday aspect of being musical. Such a perception, he claimed, ‗does not have a
proper name i.e. ‗musical‘. I did wonder whether he could be correct in this view. What
was evident, however, was that he did not hear my concern about individuals‘ freedom
to respond musically to their world; to respond without fear of judgement. It became
increasingly clear that what he heard could not be separated from his background
(Llewelyn 1986) where, as Harry acknowledged, he was influenced by Dewey,
Wittgenstein, Toulmin and Searle. From his first interview, then, his view remained
pertinent to his position. For Harry, to be not musical was akin to being
…not physical, not mechanical or not mathematical. Not naturally inclined that
way or whatever. Oh, I‘m musical in other senses. But that‘s not the way in
which that sort of use of the term is focussed.
‗That…way‘ was, however, exactly the way in which I was attempting to focus the
term. Harry‘s strong conviction that he was not musical in relation to any active
involvement with music making epitomised that ‗principle of subjectivity [where] a
self-relating, knowing subject…bends back on itself, in order to grasp itself as in a
mirror image [and where] reason [sits] in the supreme seat of judgement before which
anything that [makes] a claim to validity [has] to be justified (Habermas, 1987, p. 18).
His view appeared to demonstrate a sublimation of entity to the separation of what
Habermas calls the ‗spheres of knowing‘ (1987, p. 19) where disparate human activities
were distanced from each other. In Harry‘s case, rich understandings from such
disciplines as education, history and philosophy seemed to be kept aside from questions
of human musicality; they remained apart from his lack of recognition of his everyday
musical self. Harry‘s reality, then, may be seen as analogous to the reality considered in
Kant‘s The Critique of Pure Reason where ‗critical reason…takes over the role of a
supreme judge‘ (Habermas, 1987, p. 19).
When Harry received my next interpretation which included thoughts on his
‗entrenched view that being musical ‗is a thing one is or one isn‘t‘, he seemed to
perceive my meaning where the term ‗musical‘ could apply to all humans.
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Now here is a major claim that deserves significant and detailed clarification.
‗On this account‘ it is not possible to be human and not musical and so it makes
no sense to ask of someone whether they are musical. Yet the question seems
sensible and some people may even answer in the negative. Whether the totally
deaf are musical is an empirical question for which I do not know the answer.
Being ‗not musical‘ or ‗unmusical‘, on this account, is to render the object not
human. I am not sure you need this universal claim to establish your educational
conclusion.
Harry underscored one of his original claims regarding his grandchildren, where he
argued that:
They‘ve certainly had an opportunity to be musical, in the sense I think you are
trying to get at, more so than to be mathematical, outside their school
experience, because now mass media is much more pervasive.
My attempts to argue that many professional performances can often impede rather than
encourage musical self-expression had not been convincing. Further, I had sympathy
with his position regarding outcomes of some formal music learning where he perceived
that:
…perhaps many musicians are not musical, possibly the result of overbearing
parents who made them work hard at what was good for them. The result may be
that the person developed sufficient skill and enjoyment that they are good
musicians without unusual talent.
He was touching on the negative aspects of formal music learning where, besides his
claim above, these could also lead to perceptions of being ‗not musical,‘ as considered
above (see Chapter Five). He continued:
If all people are musical and all people breathe, why should schools not give
equal time to teaching each of these and other common characteristics of
people? One might even argue that breathing should get greater time due to its
more fundamental importance.
Could it have been intentional? Perhaps not. Yet Harry‘s accumulated provocations
finally led me to think towards meaning. My email reply to him began to articulate
understanding:
Perhaps erroneously, I believe that my underlying argument has no
‗equivocation‘ because of the fact that all humans are ‗musical‘ (evidence for
this for my thesis comes from neuroscience and music education researchers
cited in Ch 1). Yet, experiences in our society lead some self-perceived nonmusicians to believe that they are not musical. While our schools might not
teach good breathing (yet students‘ breathing could benefit from good physical
education/singing/postural awareness/ programs), some participants in my study
reveal that they ‗learned‘ that they were ‗not musical‘ from their classroom
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experiences. While it might be true that students‘ breathing was adversely
affected, they did not ‗learn‘ that they were not ‗breathers‘ at school. We all
breathe - at many different levels of effectiveness [and this is what my
perception of human musicality is - you don‘t ‗have‘ to sing - but conversely - it
is not healthy that individuals are led to believe that they ‗cannot‘ sing. Why is it
that they must be so affected by the ‗elitist‘ and narrow idea of ‗singing in tune‘?
Some (very intelligent and perceptive) individuals will not let this bother them and they do it anyway…but that‘s not the issue - it's not important whether they
‗do‘ it or not - just important that they do not feel that they cannot do it.
Acceptance of evidence that humans are musical per se (see references to neurosientific
and psychological research in Chapters One and Two) gives grounds to argue that, if we
are to deny our musicality then we undermine an instinctive aspect of our reality. It is
possible, then, to suggest that Bhaskar's ‗epistemic fallacy‘ (1986, p. 6) could support a
position where music IS. Music exists as an entity that is not entirely reliant on human
knowledge; infants with no training respond to music (Trehub, 2006, p. 44). Yet, in his
belief that an individual is either born musical or they are not, I argue that Harry
undermined the ‗epistemic significance‘ of this thinking. By referring in his particular
way to ‗social objects (including beliefs) and beliefs about those objects‘ (Bhaskar,
1986, p. 176), Harry entered into a process of perpetuating his belief system when he
looked for evidence of musicality in his grandchildren (whether or not they were
‗doing‘ music at home or in school).
From this position, I suggest that the music education received by ‗non-musical‘
participants in this study was not merely peripheral or a ‗frill‘ but rather a
‗miseducation‘; one that lay on the negative side of ‗inclusion‘. Not only did these
individuals receive minimal developmental learning, but they ‗learned‘ instead that they
were ‗not musical‘. They demonstrated expert knowing of a ‗dualistic‘ view of music
where their perceptions show that they, as musical beings, perceived themselves to be
non musical. Such a position did not allow them to engage freely in making sounds and
responding to rhythms which could have led them towards a deeper sense of knowing,
together with an enhancement of self. From observations of these individuals, I would
argue that such ‗dialectics of inaction‘ (Bhaskar, 2000, p. 151) inhibited emotional
expression towards healthy communicative action and consequently limited a potential
for social connectedness.
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While it was quite possible that Harry could not see why I was expending such energy
on this study, at least he did appreciate my argument enough to respond to the story of
Sonya‘s ‗musical ballpark‘. His position, he emailed, was one where:
I enjoy listening to music = I do play in the ballpark! Whether I play in the
position I would like and as well as I would like is another matter and always an
issue in every ballpark in which I play! As it happens, I would like to do better
than I have/can in every ballpark I inhabit.
Emancipatory effects
His comments also indicated that he had enjoyed some emancipatory effects of the
research process:
I have always lived in a mono-lingual environment and had no opportunity to
learn a language at school. I assume that I do not have a talent for learning
languages. Could language, music, reading etc be things we learn
best/easiest/most effectively at a particular stage of our neural/conceptual
development?
Participants initial statements may be wrong, misleading, poorly articulated.
They, too, may grow in perceptive understanding in this process – the observer
changes the observed.
It was during the search to unravel the puzzling data from Harry that I found help in
understandings in Bhaskar (2000, p. 151). His explorations of the notion of
‗critical naturalism, oriented to overcoming dualisms‘ helped to make sense of seeming
contradictions. As he considered ‗the goal of de-alienated man in his totality‘ Bhaskar‘s
thinking led me to reflect that Harry‘s endeavours to be free were constrained by his
rejection of the possibility of a musical self. I would argue that his ‗appreciation‘ aspect
of music was not a case of either/or reality, rather, he showed that he IS a musical being.
From an epistemological viewpoint, Harry was seen to be responsible for his selfjudgement of being not musical. His perceived inability to sing or play in a manner that
he would consider to be acceptable for ‗performance‘ need not have driven him to
believe that he lacked any musical potential. As an experienced educator, versed in
developmental learning, this perception appeared to lack rationality. He would have
been aware that, for learning to occur and to acquire particular skills, appropriate
environmental conditions needed to be part of the learner‘s reality. While he applied this
understanding to the learning of mathematics, this knowledge seemed to be subverted
when it came to his own musical background.
144
It was at first puzzling to reflect on data that revealed Harry‘s deep response to music
when he consistently denied that he was musical; iterative contact with this teacher
educator then led to my first important realisation. His experiences, together with those
of the never picked led me to theorise that, for the self-perceived non-musical
individuals in our society, there was an irreconcilable distancing between innate human
potential and possible musical behaviours. A second puzzle occurred when Harry
challenged the way I valued humans as musical beings. It was through these interactions
with someone who possessed rich educational experiences and could not at first ‗hear‘
what my central issue meant regarding humans and musicality that the question of
values resonated towards theory. Interactions with this educator then led to an
articulation of the second understanding from this study; an undermining of individual
development is perpetrated through ignorance of holistic (Noddings, 2005) human
potential and this is manifest in educational practice.
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Chapter Seven
Assumptions tell a tale
Music, like all discourse, occupies the space between individuals and communities.
(Swanwick, 1996‘ p. 18)
Recent research supports several participants‘ perceptions that musicality is linked to
early music educational opportunities; something that has developed as a result of
‗normal cognitive growth‘, (Serafine, 1988, p. 234). However, as evidence presented in
Chapter Six suggests, the reality in many schools in Western Australia is that access to
music learning has been left to chance and, as the National Review indicates, this
chance has been ‗diminished‘ (Australian Government Department of Education, 2005,
p. 28). Participant Harry claimed that a good program might result ‗if a teacher had
musical qualities and excitement and enthusiasm,‘ but his pragmatic acceptance was
linked to a belief that, with limited funding, it was mandatory to give priority to ‗the
important stuff, language, maths, science and social science‘. Harry was convinced that
‗language learning, maths and getting a job [were] more worthy of effort (given limited
resources) than aesthetic activity (including music)‘.
Noddings (2005), however, claimed: ‗Surely, we should demand more from our schools
than to educate people to be proficient in reading and mathematics.‘ I began to wonder
if participant experiences were revealing a failure of our schools to recognise that
‗students are whole persons―not mere collections of attributes, some to be addressed in
one place and others to be addressed elsewhere‘ (Noddings, 2005). Could this concern
of Noddings be addressing the core problem that led to negative self-views of
participants in this study? As I considered the rich data from Chas, the 19-year-old
university drop-out and principal ‗character‘ of this chapter, I hoped to provide a
contrasting view to those presented by the participants who felt that they were not
musical non-musicians. Might the experiences of Chas negate Noddings‘ concern? Chas
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believed that he lacked any musical skills because he could neither sing nor play but his
assertion that all humans were musical remained constant.
In contrast to Harry, Chas steadfastly avoided any suggestion of regarding himself as a
non-musical person. He acknowledged from his first interview that although he could
not sing or play, this situation was a result of his personal choice not to pursue musical
learning because he preferred to put effort into other areas of his life. Where Harry
demonstrated a palpable disconnection between his lived experiences and potential
musical action, I suspected that Chas (also a self-perceived non-musician) could reveal
a different reality. It was Chas who had said that ‗humans are a musical species, as the
beating of drums is a very primeval thing; as a rule, all humans are musical and do have
a response to music‘.
Chas‘ involvement with my research occurred in three distinct phases:

An initial (one and a half hour long) tape-recorded interview took place in my home
on the day before he left Western Australia to ride his motor cycle across the North
of Australia to Queensland.

After his return from his adventure he replied to emails and responded by telephone
to my queries arising from the initial interview. He also agreed to a second interview
in which I presented written questions that arose from both his and other
participants‘ perceptions. This interview was not taped; instead, I took notes and
then recorded details immediately following the session. Again, Chas generously
emailed responses to queries from this interview.

Chas then left the State for another six months to work ‗up North‘. On his return, he
agreed to do some house decorating for me. This period created another phase of
information sharing; we had conversations during breaks between work and these
were followed up via email contact.
Glimpse into a hidden world’
It was during a final meeting when Chas picked up some coloured pencils and began to
illustrate his ‗musical‘ position in terms of a pie graph. Representing music in his life,
he divided the graph into four sections: performing, listening, doing,
making/composing/writing. He commented that it was very rough and inappropriate for
a formal study. However, to one side of this graph, there was an interesting doodle he
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had made. Prominent amongst other pencilled marking was the ‗equation‘ shown in
Figure 6.
Figure 6: Musical = being able to sing.
Chas did not comment on the doodle during this meeting. When I later asked him about
it, he reported that it was a ‗pretty obvious phenomenon‘. Indeed, his perception of the
importance of being able to sing was reflected in the comments of other participants. To
recall Rhonda‘s comment that a non-singer would face the question: ‗which mental
institution has she just gotten out of?‘ is to imagine the powerful influence that a selfperception of not being able to sing can have on the individual. From Harry‘s ‗Can‘t
sing, not even in the shower‘ and individuals who ‗never believed‘ that they could sing
and who would take every precaution to ensure that they do not ‗inflict‘ their noise on to
others, the doodle illustrates the reality experienced by many of the participants.
(Appendix H provides examples from several other participants).
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Andy, a friend of Chas, was happy to sing in public. To hear and to consider the diverse
perspectives of Chas and Andy offered a valuable insight towards understanding how
our society dealt with this elusive phenomenon of human musicality. Andy, a ‗musical‘
participant, did admit to singing with intent to irritate; it was to make his friends notice
him. He believed others‘ refusal to sing was like a ‗denial of emotion…that masculine
construct everyone‘s talking about‘. Andy pointed out that while his friends denied they
could sing, they lost their inhibitions and would sing when they were drunk:
…there‘s something quite great about a whole pile of guys sitting around singing
together! It‘s cosha. It‘s the done thing. You know…and they love it too! They love
it!
Exuberance coloured his tone. It was important not to underestimate intuitive
understandings of the participants knowing. From Chas‘ point of view, Andy:
…was brought up with a more musical sort of background, I mean, he played
instruments from when he was a youngster, I think, until he finished year 12.
Andy listens to…a different genre of music…he listens to more Australian
music, more punk rock like Green Day or Frenzal Rhomb…I presume you kind
of assume that everyone does it for the same reason that you do…music reflects
how you feel and allows you to define yourself and identify yourself to others
and also just as a method of relaxing…just clearing your head but…now that I
think about it…I don‘t really know why other people listen to music or why they
choose the type of music they do…because sometimes he [Andy] sings terribly –
and will sing right into my ear on purpose. It shits me…he‘ll do it to annoy.
He‘s more musical than me. He spends more time studying music, making
music. I don‘t know if he gets more from it than me.
From Andy‘s perspective, however, he doubted that many of his contemporaries valued
music as much as he did:
I don‘t think that most of my friends are aware of what an emotional impact
music has on me…how important it is in my life. I‘d consider that I personally
would have a stronger connection with music than the majority of Australian
males my age.
During conversations with Andy, it was important for me to disguise the real source of
the following extract from Chas‘ data. Believing that the excerpt was from a young
woman, Andy read the words that revealed ‗she‘ found that music helped ‗her‘ to:
…acknowledge…something that‘s wrong…by not trying to hide it…keeping it
in peoples‘ minds [so that] things are not forgotten. By acknowledging
something that‘s wrong in general that, by not trying to hide it, you don‘t feel
guilty about doing anything about it.
Andy made an audible, quick intake of breath. He exclaimed: ‗Oh God…that‘s a bit
different!...Well, now I don‘t really like that - but I just like the way that music‘s in
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some way…has helped her to cope with the reality around her…that‘s what I like. I
think that‘s fantastic if music can do that for you!‘
Despite my best efforts, I still could not persuade Chas to express any thoughts
regarding himself as a musical (or non-musical) person (extracts from conversations are
included in Appendix F). He carefully avoided any direct response regarding his own
musicality. One example of his evasive technique arose as I searched for meaning
through his perceptions of members of one of his favourite bands:
Eve
What would you think about these guys as musical beings?
They‘re out there. They‘re playing stuff. They‘re doing stuff…the
word ‗musical‘ I just wonder…how would you…
Chas I‘d say that music is in the eye of the beholder…what I see as
music you may not and vice versa as I understand it just
biologically by not all people hear the same thing in the same way
‗n as you get older you…different frequencies become more
accentuated and others go…become dimmed and so different
people do hear different things um and also yeah just from birth
you know different genetics and different upbringing will mean
you‘ll find different things to be harsh on the ear and…or not…
Eve
How would you think of each of those guys…as musical beings?
Chas What do you mean by musical being…exactly?
In response, I directed the question towards his thoughts regarding himself:
Eve
But to you, not being one of them…you‘re not a musician as such,
how do you think of you as a musical person?
Chas Well…I‘m largely a consumer of…I listen to a lot of music but I
don‘t write or play…I influence what is played because if I‘m not
going to the concerts and I‘m not buying the CDs well they‘re not
making any money…so, as far as capitalism goes, I have an
influence over the music like that…because I‘m purely a consumer
and one amongst untold millions, individually, I don‘t influence
what other people listen to so much…and, as far as music goes I
pick out what I like and I listen to that and the people around me I
guess listen to that as well because I show it to them and go ‗how do
you like this you know so I have some influence over my peer group
as much as my peer group influences me.
In his second interview, I presented him with a written query:
In your first interview I asked: ‗What do you mean by musical being…exactly?
In regards to this word ‗musical‘, you threw this question back to me, but I wonder
if you could give your thoughts on it now that you have had some time to reflect on
it?
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His response delivered a thoughtful overview of his considered position:
You could argue that humans are a musical species. The beating of drums…is a very
primeval thing. As a rule, all humans are musical and do have a response to music. I
am a musical being but I am a consumer of music not a connoisseur but a real
enthusiast and have real appreciation. I start to have ‗withdrawals‘ if I don‘t listen to
music.
Music and conversations lead to theory
I embrace my desire
to feel the rhythm,
to feel connected,
(Lateralus, sung by Tool, accessed 2007)
That day before he left on his long journey, Chas imagined the sound of his new motor
bike. For him it was:
absolutely music to my ears…jus‘ a favourite sound. I love riding motorbikes
you definitely relate the sound…that is a big part of riding.
you hear what the engine‘s doing and that prompts you to make changes…
you can‘t always be looking at instruments
you listen for the engine speed so you know when to change gears
you can hear it
you can hear if the engine‘s screaming…or if it‘s just tonkin‘ along
without looking down… you know what gear you‘re in
you know if you‘re going to accelerate
you need to down shift
you need to up shift…
just hearing the bikes…just driving past…just in the garage
that brings it all back to you
that feeling of being on a motorbike
an‘ it sounds good
if an alien came along and listened to it I‘d be like ‗Yeah. Whatever.‘
I guess it‘s primeval
it‘s the beating of drums
sort of release
some sort of pleasure
in making lots of noise.
His relationship with his favoured soundworld was immediate; he savoured the deep,
‗primeval‘ rhythms that gave him an exciting, physical connection to his world. When
he returned form his adventure and from a stint of working ‗up North‘, Chas did some
home decorating for me. To provide himself with appropriate background music while
working, he brought his own CDs. Amazed, I discovered that the lyrics to one of his
favourite tracks, Lateralus (see Appendix G), encapsulated both the young man‘s
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youthful aspirations and perceptions of connectivity. Lateralus revealed youth‘s
searching beyond the lines of reason. Yet Habermas (1987, p. 367) argued that this
reason upon which modernity is based is itself subverted by the forces of competitive
international action. In Lateralus, the bandTool revealed youth‘s eternal hope and
audacious expectations that they could find answers where generations before have
failed:
…reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me…
We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been
During breaks from work, Chas contributed more thoughts about his music. While he
might have claimed that music was ‗only one influence out of many‘, he demonstrated
that it was a powerful one: something that touched him to affect the way he thought and
felt. Chas sought out particular music and knew the words of particular tracks that he
considered most important. He sang along to the CD as he prepared to scrub a wall.
Lateralus led to deeper insights into the world of this young man and his friends. I
combed through his data and wrote his story using Lateralus as a template. It was
fascinating to realise the rhythmic base of the lyrics as I set the words of Chas to his
favourite ‗track‘. However, while Harry had appreciated hearing his words come alive
to Henry Lawson‘s ballad, Chas was not at all impressed. An email response was
unexpected and revealing: ‗eve I strongly suspect you are on drugs‘. From this I
gathered that he did not want to ‗hear‘ his story via rhythms from his favoured music
(his story, captured in this way, is confined to appendix G).
Habermas (1987) argued that it was not really possible for a society to achieve
‗intersubjectively constituted self-knowledge‘ where such knowing would determine the
governing of a society (p. 360), yet Chas‘ reality demonstrated his own belief that some
popular music groups are affected by and do influence their ‗fans;‘ indeed, there might
be substantial truth in the claims that Chas had made regarding political and social
effects of famous (or infamous) bands. Chas spoke of complexities that were taken on
board and communicated through music which, he suggested, gave musicians certain
power as they connected with their fans; in this he could almost be alluding to
something that Habermas terms a collective consciousness (p. 360).
Purely a consumer?
When analysing Chas‘ understandings layer by layer, it became necessary to question
initial deep assumptions of both participant and researcher. The assertion Chas made
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that he was ‗purely a consumer‘ seemed at variance with actions where he actively
sought out particular music, sang along to favourites, or joined in singing with friends
when they were all drunk. While he deliberately labelled himself as a non-musician, he
also recognised that all human beings were musical, but understood that only some
individuals chose to ‗put in the hard yards‘ to become skilled musicians. While he
persisted in his assertion that most people were content to play the role of ‗consumer‘,
Chas‘ musical experiences were more than mere consumerism because he connected to
music and friends through listening and participating in live musical experiences.
Palpable involvement and connection with like others were evident when the young
man would troupe off to a favourite concert. When he united with others as part of an
interactive celebration it allowed him to:
…join in and sing between songs…
It‘s just different, Eve…moving the same way, if you will…more figuratively than
literally…you can move…be a part of it…like they hold a mike to the crowd.
Everyone just knows! There‘ll be a couple of parts from a couple of songs that
everyone knows. They‘re ‗anthem‘ songs if you will – the title tracks of the albums.
- everyone‘s making the music…it‘s really cool
- everyone loves it
- covered in sweat you shout! (That was really cool!)
- ears are ringing…
Could this be ‗purely a consumer‘ setting? Such occasions provided active participants
with a tangible means of connecting with each other in an outpouring of physical
vibrations (simultaneously exposing themselves to the danger of significant hearing
loss!).
In his first interview, Chas considered why he chose particular music and explained that
it; ‗reflects how you feel…allows you to define yourself and identify yourself to others
and also just as a method of relaxing‘. It seemed that this 19-year old did not allow his
river of knowing to be rippled by societal perceptions of being ‗musical‘ or not.
Evidence from his data suggested that Chas had experienced a different reality than that
lived by Harry who, as a young intellectual, in a previous generation, judged himself
inferior as a musical being when found the results of his short-term efforts to play an
instrument were ‗disappointing‘. There seemed to be little indication from material
provided by Chas that he, like Harry, might also perceive himself as being ‗not
musical‘. It was after six meetings, several telephone conversations and email
communications, that we arranged a final meeting to address questions emerging from
his data. After almost two years of intermittent communication, I was aware that
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something remained beneath the surface of these ‗conversations‘ yet what followed took
me entirely by surprise.
Assumptions unfold
Chas stretched out on the floor as he read an updated version of his data. He agreed that
the content was accurate but considered that the transcript quotes needed to be
shortened. I asked him again about music and meanings of sound. He considered that,
for music…the ‗end‘ of sound was music whereas…with a motorbike sound, the ‗end‘
meant one exhilarating ride. With birdsong, he considered for a moment; their sound
was limited for us because we ‗don‘t identify with birds.‘
Again, it seemed that the researcher could learn from the researched. Again, I addressed
the issue of ‗Chas and musical‘. If he intended to startle - he succeeded:
I would‘ve assumed that you, being a piano teacher,
would‘ve known that I wasn‘t very good at music…
I didn‘t show an interest.
I kind of tried [to learn to play the piano]
and didn‘t have an aptitude…
well I wasn‘t good at it straight away
in addition to the fact that I wasn‘t that interested.
With aptitude I‘m talking about ability and motivation.
If I was motivated I could overcome my lack of natural ability.
I would‘ve assumed that you knew I did not have an aptitude for music.
I would‘ve assumed that you would‘ve assumed that,
after evidence [I had piano lessons for a year and cannot play the instrument]
that I didn‘t have an aptitude for music.
I wasn‘t very good at music…
I didn‘t show an interest.
I didn‘t have a particular talent and didn‘t master…
didn‘t pick up on it really quickly.
If I had a propensity for music I would be playing a musical instrument!
… propensity for music…
Chas had claimed that ‗all humans are musical…‘ yet his potential active involvement
had been undermined by a pervasive presence of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al.,
1998). The underlying assumption directing his actions had become manifest. Music
existed as a performance which demanded to be of a professional standard; a standard
which varied according to the demands of particular music. Again, talent was seen to be
the prerequisite which determined musicality. These words from Chas epitomised a
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reality experienced by the other ‗non-musical‘ participants. His assumption was that
‗informed‘ others would know that he ‗wasn‘t very good at music‘; they would know
that he did not have a potential to make music. He had ‗qualified‘ himself to join the
ranks for the ‗not musical‘ participants (although he was ‗musical‘ in the appreciative
sense, quite properly defined by Harry). I did attempt to provoke the young man to
comment on his feelings of being ‗musical as a human being‘; but he had had enough of
interviewing. He said that he would ‗come around‘ (and that could be anytime – or no
time).
His assumptions had remained tacit throughout conversations over almost two years.
Now, out in the open, they still appeared contradictory to the depth of Chas‘
understandings. His comment that he: ‗didn‘t have a particular talent and…if I had a
propensity for music I would be playing a musical instrument‘ directly conflicted with
his knowledge that many popular ‗stars‘ have little musical talent: ‗Plenty of the current
generation of performers are technically woeful, but have massive interaction with the
crowd and massive following‘. As I retraced data from transcripts and other
conversations, it became clear that such non-musical self-judgement could be seen to
have had its origins in part from his peers, but particularly from attitudes held by his
father, Fred (who had granted two brief interviews for my research). Fred believed that
Chas did nothing as a child to justify his being perceived as ‗musical‘; he commented
that neither of his sons: ‗were terribly musical [because] they didn‘t do anything to
show it.‘ This view echoed the position held by Harry in relation to his grandchildren.
While Chas could not attribute his belief that he had no musical potential to any
particular incident, he was aware that this attitude had been part of his ‗knowing‘ since
about the age of eight. Where exactly that knowing might have come from, however, he
could not say. He remembered that it was just a gradual realisation. It was ‗a long time
ago‘ and he could recall no more. He commented that, even before learning the recorder
in Year 4 of primary school, he had already known that he did not have an aptitude for
music. Having already perceived himself to be non-musical, his unenthusiastic
involvement in learning the recorder demonstrated what he saw as a ‗lack of aptitude‘:
‗If I had compared myself…to others in the class…with learning the recorder…I hardly
outshone.‘ This was in stark contrast to his work in other areas.
From his perspective, his ‗failure‘ to be able to play to what he considered was an
acceptable standard following just one year of piano tuition (during which his practice
155
was minimal) presented concrete evidence that he had little ‗propensity for music‘. He
did recall taking part in a musical performance when he was in Year Seven (at twelve
years of age) where he had been ‗quite enthusiastic. I enjoyed it‘. Indeed, it was
revealing to hear his reply to a query regarding any possible reasons that might have
contributed to his not wishing to be further involved in musical performances:
Then I was a big fish in a little pond. It was not much effort and [what I did was
appreciated by all the people]. Not now…I would be expected to put in effort and
would still only be on par with others. I wouldn‘t stand out [like I did] as a kid and
feel special and stuff – that was a cool feeling – like if you achieve anything.
His upbringing on a farm left Chas with a practical understanding and pragmatic
acceptance of life‘s realities. He believed that what he interpreted as inadequate
performance ability, proved during his brief encounters with recorder and piano,
demonstrated a lack of musical aptitude. From his perspective, his practical music
learning did not suggest that he had any latent musical gift lying in readiness. As
Serafine‘s work (1988, p. 235) indicates, this view itself can determine learning
outcomes, so Chas‘ perception that he had little ‗propensity‘ for music, an idea gleaned
in some way (that he could not remember) from his environment before he was eight
years old, had already undermined his potential for music learning.
Musical involvement hangs on Judgement
This story of Chas unexpectedly delivered a précis of my thesis. Chas believed he had
‗no talent, no aptitude, no interest,‘ and yet he knew that he belonged to a musical
species which appreciated and responded to music. He was reduced to a position of
being a consumer of an omnipresent commercial output but still felt that he had a slight
‗influence‘ through his ability to choose particular products. This passive role was
accepted without question by music specialist participant (Ralph).15 His assumption was
that ‗most people would not see themselves as being musical‘ and that because of
widespread availability of commercial music that most individuals were ‗witnesses to
music‘. Ralph‘s intent, however, was that ‗music teachers should be inspirational [and
lead] kids to discover that making music is not only for experts but for all of us.‘
Alongside his embedded belief in innate talent was a desire to help ‗non-gifted‘ students
to develop skills that could ‗release their own musical expression [to allow them] to
15
Ralph was a ‗musician‘ participant of an earlier cohort before this research necessarily focussed on the
self-perceived ‗non-musicians‘.
156
engage in much more casual social music‘. Yet Ralph acknowledged that, as music
specialist, he was looking out for evidence of potential ‗experts‘. Here, the issue of
judgement could be seen to endanger a holistic involvement with the music making but,
as Smith (2004) and Miller (2004) have demonstrated, such a practice does not have to
dominate the school music environment.
When Chas talked about music, he recognised that ‗listeners are consumers, playing an
essentially passive role in the cultural process that, in economic terms, they underpin‘
(Cook, 1998, p. 17). Chas revealed an astute awareness of the situation:
I‘m largely a consumer of, I listen to a lot of music but I don‘t write or play,
so…probably 95% of the music I listen to…the people that play it do it to make
a living. As part of a huge consumer group, I influence what is played because if
I‘m not going to the concerts and I‘m not buying the CDs, they‘re not making
any money. So I guess in, as far as capitalism goes, I have an influence over the
music like that…but I‘m purely a consumer and one amongst untold millions.
Individually, I don‘t influence what other people listen to so much and, I pick
out what I like and I listen to that. The people around me listen to that as well
because I show it to them and go ‗how do you like this? So yeah I guess I have
some influence over my peer group as much as my peer group influences me.
The concept of music as something performed by experts was a pervasive influence for
participants. In their considerations of the role of the music specialist in schools,
perceptions from music specialist Ralph and primary teacher participant Janice
delivered useful insights regarding the specialist position of becoming the music teacher
in a school.
Ralph
…[it] could lead to arrogance. I feel like a musical person because
people keep saying, ‗He‘s the music teacher! He‘s the music teacher!‘
O.k. so ‗you‘re the music teacher, therefore you know about music‘.
Because someone‘s stuck a label on you like that you might be
different; you‘ve got a position in the school…and that position is the
music teacher
Janice Well that‘s what I mean about the fact that now the music teacher in
school, it seems to me, owns the music.
A major aim for Ralph was to provide ‗something to enjoy that is musical‘. He
acknowledged that this was ‗always going to be difficult‘ [and] I don‘t even chuck out
kids that can‘t sing‘. His words seem to imply that his teaching was an example of the
authoritarian model described by Cook (1998, pp. 25-26) where the students would be
passive receivers at ‗the bottom of the musical hierarchy‘ (p. 26). Yet he encouraged the
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students to pursue active exploration of environmental sounds and delighted in the
consequent innovative use of unusual materials (playground equipment and sticks, for
example) of student ‗compositions‘.
For Ralph, an underlying awareness was directed towards noting the potential
‗performer‘; this ‗performance‘ aspect was dominant, too, in his everyday music
making. In an email, he wrote:
Perhaps you don't know who your fans are! It's another poser isn't it? Who's the
approving audience? A group of passers-by hearing your playing drift through the
window will judge that you are musical, as I did when we did our duets. By the way,
I don‘t mean judgements of ‗being musical‘ by such as a child feeling comfort when
Mum sings soothingly, but someone with no personal contact with the performer.
‗To an expert level‘ might not be exactly what I mean, but still one who gains
approval in a musical sense.
Ralph considered that the cause of participants‘ non-musical self-view lay in their
perception of lacking any potential to become ‗public performers‘. He noted that an
effective teacher might be the means whereby young students could realise that they
were ‗musical‘ and that they might even become professional performers. However, he
did also recognise that teachers had a need to ‗look after‘ all of the students in their
classes. He considered that it was the teacher‘s ‗job‘ to become a catalyst for students,
to enable them to ‗release their own musical expression, produce a freedom‘ and to
equip them with the necessary skills so that they could ‗engage in much more casual
social music‘.
Experiences of music in school involving either the recorder or singing along with the
radio sparked little interest for these participants. In his small country school16 Chas was
once chosen to take a lead role in a rare school musical production; he was proud to
become ‗a big fish in a little pond [where successful performing] was not much effort‘.
However, as a 19-year-old in the city, he believed that even should he ‗put in effort‘ he
‗would still only be on par with others. I wouldn‘t stand out…like I did as a kid and feel
special and stuff – that was a cool feeling – like if you achieve anything‘. He agreed
with the statement made by Harry where: ‗to get to be a talented performer, everybody
has to put the hard yards in [and that] would have required much greater effort and
commitment than I was willing to invest.‘
16
The recent National Review of school music education revealed that approximately 10% of Australian
schools do not have a music program and that the quality of music education provided by the remaining
90% is variable at the very least (Australian Government Department of Education, 2005, p. 27).
158
Both Harry and Chas were negatively affected when their attempts to do music met with
a lack of ‗feedback of instantaneous success‘. Harry experienced ‗disappointment‘ when
he could not play effectively during his brief attempt to learn the trumpet at eighteen
and Chas ‗knew‘ that he was ‗not musical‘ by as early as eight because he recognised
that he was not as good as others in his class. While he would have enjoyed the:
…power of being in a popular band…people that are far better than me at making
the music that I like - and it would require many years of dedication to become good
enough to actively make music which rivals what I already listen to - so given that
the level of commitment it would require, I‘m not really driven to make music such
as that.‘
Data from both participants, then, revealed a reality where music was viewed as
something that talented individuals performed. It was accepted that these players needed
to ‗put the hard yards in‘ but that, for these ‗gifted‘ people, the effort was not as great as
it would be for those who might not have such potential. If these perceptions referred
only to potential professional musicians, there would be no need to pursue this issue.
Because of these views, however, both Harry and Chas distanced themselves from their
instinctive musicality; so it was important to trace their thoughts towards meaning.
Further, when Harry asked: ‗What about I do not get sufficient enjoyment, gratification
etc from such an act?‘ this question could pass without comment were it not for his
latent desire to make music as a young man. Together with his admission on the phone
that he could ‗not sing, not even in the shower,‘ his position might be seen as analogous
to that ‗rueful acceptance‘ of non-musicality as experienced by Sonya in the ballad of
the never picked. Gradually, comprehensive data had delivered an overview of
participants‘ collective understandings. Firstly, this participant cohort did not perceive
music to be an essential aspect of human reality; it was something special for the
‗gifted‘. Seen as ‗non-musical‘ individuals, they were not encouraged in their responses
to music. They realised that their efforts were not appreciated and learned to avoid any
public display of their musical actions; they took care not to expose themselves to
ridicule. Chas explained that:
…your confidence can be related to the level of encouragement and background that
you experience. I know some not so good performers and they get up and perform
while others who are better, but not as confident do not. I guess there is elitism
where the best are invited to perform. Everyone needs to walk, not everyone needs
to sing. With music, you don‘t need to do it so you‘re shot down by your peers.
With these words, Chas captured the essence of the participants‘ plight. For those who
did not experience a musically nurturing environment, they learned that they were not
159
musical and also learned not to do music where others would hear and make fun of
them. These individuals perceived music as an outcome of expert performance; it was
something done by chosen musicians who necessarily experienced some form of
‗gratification‘ for their work; music making was a specialist pursuit where public
musical actions were owned by the musician.
160
Chapter Eight
I don’t have the key
Through space the universe grasps me and swallows me up like a speck;
through thought I grasp it.
(Pascal, 1966, Greatness, No. 113, p. 59)
To Pascal‘s aphorism, I would add: through music I become in tune with it, where music
is understood in its broadest sense to include particular sounds that result from human
action as well as our perceptions of and responses to the sounds of nature.
Conversational partners‘ reflections on music in their lives brought increasingly
complex and detailed data which demanded a wider reflective readership than one
researcher and supervisors. To this end, key respondents and community readers
provided a broader analytic framework that helped me to choose, amongst myriad
stories, to identify those that would be best at highlighting issues to tell this story of the
never picked.
Pascal recognized the contradictory nature of the human condition and it has been from
deep within that reality of human ‗nature‘ that participants have revealed a world that
caused them to sublimate an aspect of their being. Indeed, the key to understandings in
this research lay in contradictions in participant perceptions: rich data provided a
glimpse into aspects of our western society and education methods whereby individuals
learned to believe that they were not musical. In some cases, this had little impact on
their everyday lives, but in others they felt that they could not engage in what should be
normal responses in everyday musical actions because they felt that they could not be
musical.
At the beginning of this research, it was Heidegger‘s thoughts (1958) that helped me to
find a way to a question. Once the path towards understanding was established, it was
the generosity of participants‘ knowing that made it possible to grasp essential ideas
about their perspectives of musicality and to realise how these affected their connections
to the world of music. Reflection on data led to the emergence of music as performance;
this perception pervaded understandings and was seen to be a major determinant of non-
161
action. Dominance of the performance aspect of music undermined instinctive
musicality for two-thirds of the cohort of self-perceived non-musicians of this study.
With careful analysis and on-going iterative contacts, the data revealed perceptions
where individuals felt that they had little or no potential to learn to sing or play an
instrument to an acceptable standard. Their experiences demonstrated detrimental
effects of an overemphasis on performance and judgement; these aspects, manifest in
the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998), taught individuals that they were not musical
and distanced them from their innate musicality.
It’s kind of primeval but no-one’s given me
An affinity with music – I don’t have the key
My mother wanted one of us to play
None of my family is musical I would say.
Despite music being a ubiquitous human phenomenon that exists as an instinctive
response, for these participants their experiences taught them that music was something
owned only by the musical people; it belonged to those who worked within the music
industry or who, through being ‗talented‘ or having privileged opportunities at home or
in their educational institutions, had been encouraged to develop musical skills. From
perspectives of participants, those who had not ‗become musical‘ (words of participant,
Vi) did not have a licence to sing or play unless they were drunk (Chas and Andy
condoned all manner of doing music when they or their friends were inebriated):
implying that only an ‗insane‘ non-musician would dare to sing or play in public when
sober.
Despite the fact that perceptions of being musical are linked to early music educational
opportunities, from this study and from the literature, it became clear that teacher
educator Harry represents the views of many educators when he perceived that music is
a frill in the curriculum; it was more relevant to provide for ‗important stuff like maths
and language‘. Although the Western Australian curricula pertinent to all participants in
this study (Education Department, 1936; Education Department, 1955; Curriculum
Branch, 1982) did make specific provision for the inclusion of music education, this
was not well reflected in everyday practice. As Harry remembered, each week his class
would ‗sing along with the radio [which] was a substitute for music education‘.
While I might have sympathy with Harry‘s conviction that ‗language learning, maths
and getting a job [are] more worthy of effort (given limited resources) than an aesthetic
162
activity (including music)‘, I wish to argue that this thinking exposes a pathological
separatist notion of education in society. To accept (as Harry does) that it is necessary to
‗relegate‘ human behaviours such as music to ‗one little heap of optional extras‘
represents a skewed view of education where the emphasis is focussed on a rationalist,
economic foundation and where education is allowed to bypass a concern with the
whole person. Although many educators reason that music should be a part of the
curriculum, in reality, it is an optional extra to the ‗important subjects‘ such as language
and mathematics which are seen as core learning that equips students for work when
they leave school. Chas might be saying more than he intended when he commented
such a reality ‗is probably technically right but has no soul‘. As he recognised that
economic restrictions were manifest in limiting educational funding he also noted the
costs involved with providing qualified tuition would, quite properly, only be provided
for those gifted students who have a propensity to ‗succeed‘ in musical ‗performance‘.
These comments come from someone who has experienced little developmental music
learning and who understands the individual pride that comes from a well-received
performance. Not one of the never picked participants experienced musical learning
such as that considered in programs of work indicated above (Miller, 2004; Smith,
2004), where educators neither ‗judge‘ nor ‗test‘ students ‗out‘ of being musical.
As music educators, we need to be keenly aware of our own practice. To aim for a
music learning where the goal is to work towards technical expertise, focussed entirely
towards the production of excellent performances is to reduce potential for self-knowing
and deep connection with our world. To find ourselves distracted, for instance, by
constantly looking out for the ‗talented‘ could lead to omitting vital musical engagement
that allows students to be involved with vibrant music making that is relevant to their
particular stage of development. To limit some ‗thing‘ to being seen as ‗musical‘ when
‗it‘ can be recognised as such by ‗someone with no personal contact with the performer‘
obfuscates the potential of music for expression and communication.
Music is not only an important social phenomenon that plays a vital role in the
development of the self, but is also an activity that has important implications for
neurological growth. Participant experiences in my study challenge us to widen our
views regarding music and music education. It could be that the ‗child feeling comfort
when Mum sings soothingly‘ is, indeed, experiencing real music and is involved in
genuine musical response; one that involves connection and communication with
163
another human. It is this potential for human communicative action and enjoyment that
we endanger when we allow the concept of ‗judged‘ performance to undermine holistic
musical involvement.
Through making music we can experience living as a community and this can help us to
gain insights into our social reality. Yet these stories from ‗non-musicians‘ revealed
tacit societally influenced inhibition that prevented musical engagement. A prevailing
dominance of the ‗talent account‘ (Howe et al., 1998) caused these individuals to judge
themselves negatively as potential music makers; views of music as performance were
seen to override ‗natural‘ active engagement. Harry understood that young children do
have the opportunity to develop their musicality, and this is verified by research
confirming that the development of musical abilities occurs naturally by being involved
in music. However, such development has been effectively sabotaged by actions in
schools and in private music lessons that judged the music ability of young children to
be inferior. Lack of nurturing for most of the participants led to underdeveloped musical
skills and self-perceptions of being non-musical. This learned distancing from
instinctive musicality leaves an early question unanswered: What reasons might dwell
within our society that could lead individuals towards perceptions of being unmusical?
Emancipatory Aspects
Experiences of music at school offered little towards a personal involvement for
participants Chas or Harry. There was no provision for them to engage in music so that
it could reflect their different realities, to make their own music as a soundscape to a
poem, story, or play, or any other meaningful engagement. Rather, their own attempts to
make music cemented their self-perceptions of their non-musical status. Their attempts
to learn to play an instrument were undermined by unrealistic expectations of their
teachers and of themselves; expectations that were dominated by hopes of becoming
expert performers where their success would earn approval. Their failure resulted in
self-convictions that they were ‗not musical‘.
By allowing the data to influence the method, it was modified to facilitate iterative
connections through spoken words and written texts. From these, deeper understandings
emerged. It was the ongoing reflection that revealed tacit musical knowing to gradually
become explicit. The resulting ‗communal‘ thought allowed participants to know that
164
they were not alone. It gave them a freedom to express their non-musical perceptions,
paving the way towards uncovering assumptions that limited individuals‘ open
engagement in music. For Vance, it meant a freedom from a non-musical label; it was
exciting to witness an emancipatory effect as he looked forward to his dancing and
music listening with a renewed sense of ownership and joy.
For almost five years Harry had maintained that he was not musical. He believed he was
not capable of becoming actively involved in music making unless he had been
prepared to expend extraordinary effort. It was after the extensive iterative exchange of
this research process, which enabled him to become aware of understandings from
recent neurological and biological research as well as becoming familiar with other
participant realities, that Harry began to look at his own reality through a changed
perspective. In one of his final emails he commented that he had ‗changed…since first
he was interviewed‘. As an outcome of this long research journey, Harry provided some
evidence of a move towards emancipation; towards a freedom from unnecessary
assumptions. Indeed, researcher and conversational partners experienced changes as we
learned to see from new perspectives. As Harry wrote, ‗the observer changed the
observed‘.
Towards a licence to do music
It is important that, as teachers, we continue to question the status quo and be prepared
to explore diverse avenues as we work towards a provision of appropriate learning
environments for all different students and not only the select few. There could have
been many potential positive responses to the eight-year old Sonya, for instance;
responses that could have led to an acceptance of her natural musicality as she enjoyed
‗marching on the beat‘. We need to ensure that, as educators, we can engage in work
practices that include a broad understanding of the development of the young child; this
could avoid such unnecessary affects such as those experienced by the participants in
this research. It is vital that pre-service teacher programs are able to prepare teachers to
make value judgements in their daily practice so that their work becomes an inclusive
educational experience; this, of course, applies to all ‗subjects‘ not just music in
education.
165
Separatist effects resulting from societal assumptions, regarding the need for innate
talent for singing and playing instruments, would be ameliorated by the provision of an
inclusive music education for all. Lived experiences of how music skills are learned
could lead individuals to understand music as a part of their everyday lives, where it
would be their choice to put in the ‗hard yards‘ if they wanted to master instrumental
skills, rather than something that they were either fated to do or not to do. Data from
this study, I believe, points to the educational value of a music education that can enable
all individuals to recognise their inherent musicality. Such an approach to music
education would give essential understandings of music making so that musicians could
thereby be recognised as skilled performers, perceptive and even ‗gifted‘ – but not
exclusively ‗magical‘ beings. Musical skills, including technical and interpretative
abilities, could then be understood as special products of exposure to music itself
together with persistent work. We need a healthy musical education, then, if we are to
claim back our musical heritage for everyone; to enable us to recognise the musicality
of all children and to allow them the appropriate opportunities to fully engage with their
inherited potential.
166
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175
Appendix A
Self-perceived non-musician ‘pilot’ participants
Name
Occupation
Age
Classify self as
Musical (M)
Not Musical (N)
Vi
Vance
‘Blue’
Rhonda
Ada
Nell
Harry
Retired Travel Representative
Retired Technician
Animal trainer
High School Teacher
Public Servant
Lawyer
Teacher Educator
44
75
51
27
51
42
60
N
N
M
N
N
N
N
Became Key Informants
 ‗Blue‘ declined an offer to take any further part in my research but was
happy for me to include his perceptions from this ‗conversation‘. The others all
continued their involvement as part of the study cohort.
176
Self-perceived Non-musician Participants
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Name
Occupation
Age
Classify self as
Musical (M)
Not Musical
(N)
Ada
Andy
Bazza
Caddy
Caterina
Chas
Ella
Fred
Harry
Howard
James
Janice
Jessie
Jim
Jock
Juliana
Kate
Meg
Mick
Nell
Rhonda
Nick
Sally
Sarah
Sonya
Susan
Vance
Vi
Vic
1 Public Servant
2 University Student
3 Retired Professional
4 Primary School Teacher
5 Office Worker
6 University ‗Drop-out‘
7 Retired Pre-School Teacher
8 Farmer
9 Teacher Educator
10 Airconditioner Technician
11 Lawyer
12 Primary School Teacher
26 Retired Office Worker
27 Physiotherapist
13 Retired Farmer
14 Mother
15 Mother
16 Health Professional
17 An ‗Occasional‘ Worker
18 Lawyer
19 High School Teacher
20 Primary School Student
21 High School Student
22 Exercise Physiologist
23 Historian
29 Retired Primary School Principal
24 Retired Technician
25 Retired Travel Representative
28 Office Manager
51
19
64
39
37
19
59
60
60
43
29
54
74
37
82
45
32
56
32
42
27
12
14
30
63
66
75
44
44
N
M
M
M
N
N
N
N
N
M
M
N
N
N
N
N
M
N
M
N
N
M
N
M
N
N
N
N
N
Key Informants
177
Appendix B17
Ballad of the never picked
It‘s kind of primeval but no-one‘s given me
An affinity with music – I don‘t have the key
My mother wanted one of us to play
None of my family is musical I would say.
You fear a mistake, don‘t know what to do
Have no voice to sing an‘ they‘re judging you
Such a hopeless voice but I‘d love to sing
Look at her! Revolting and it’s the worst thing!
You have a good voice? No-one did say!
Not terribly musical. I cannot play.
But I really believe everyone‘s got music in them
It is part of our lives and our expression.
17
Ballad stanzas use participants‘ words only and are italicised throughout this chapter. Phrases are
juxtaposed to enhance meaning and some stanzas include multiple participant contributions [names in
square brackets at the end of relevant lines indicate which participant data are used]. They are written as
lyrics to the air, ‗Lord Randal, No. 12‘ from the Child collection (reproduced in Trapp, J. B., 1973).
178
I know I can‘t sing, I can‘t hold the key,
So shocking you know, but teacher can‘t see,
‗There‘s someone over there that‘s just not quite in tune.‘
We‘d all sing again, but this time I‘d just mime.
Then therapy helps to find who I am
I sing in the car, but not all the time
For my thoughts and feelings…it‘s great to be
Able to sing and I know that I‘m free.
And I got to be leader, chucked out of the job
Accused of no sense of rhythm…I was no good!
And no sense of music? Even at age 8 I knew!
I was bitterly frustrated, knew that to be untrue.
Wasn‘t picked as a dancer which was a great shame,
I first realised that I couldn't sing
When never picked at school, bitter that adults could be
So stupid, not have a better grasp of musical ability.
Always moved with a beat, fingers tap and feet drum,
I couldn't sing the high notes, so transposed them down
I‘m assured I can't sing in tune I accept ruefully
And the only thing I can play is a CD.
179
Appendix C18
He can hold a tune. No doubt about that.
My Dad took up music with the Merchant Marines.
Can’t stand it to be honest. Don’t play anything.
When my Dad was playing – yeah we used to nick off.
And it probably did affect the way I that I felt.
My brother, had a crack at the ol’ man’s clarinet,
Dad just got rid of it but my brother found one at the tip.
My son’s right into music, much better than me
He can hold a tune and likes Green Day and ACDC.
My school was big time on music but I’d
Rather do detention and used to refuse.
I ended up getting the strap…it only hurt
for a little minute But the music went on forever.
No no no. No regrets. Footy’ s the thing
I’m singin’ that song only when the Eagles win
You feel pumped…and jumpin’ outta your skin.
I’ve got my beer and the footy - don’t play anything.
18
Retrieved November 11, 2005, (transposed from treble) from
http://sniff.numachi.com/~rickheit/dtrad/pages/tiLORDRAN1;ttLORDRAND.html
180
Appendix D
Meg’s Childhood
(From an unpublished biography: presented here with permission)
Before I started correspondence school Mum and Dad talked about having a Buick
motor car. I had a box that something had come up in and every evening after tea I
would go out into my box, my Buick, which had a couple of nails on it and a little
seat and I would be out there going, ‗ Broom. Broom. Broom.‘ I would have a
couple of dolls along side of me and in my mind we would be tearing all over the
countryside in the Buick. I lived in a very imaginative world and I could make
anything happen. I was never lonely because I could always create a crowd whereever I was.
At that time I developed these imaginary friends and because I had no idea of how
to relate to children, except for my cousins, and that was only three times a year,
these friends were all adults.
Everyone would mention the name of the town, Mingary, and I did not know much
about it so called my first imaginary friend that. Then I had Mrs. Chronic, I did not
even know what the word meant, but I kept hearing my mother say, ‗I‘ve got a
chronic headache‘, or ‗I‘ve got a chronic backache – I must take a Bex.‘ I thought
it must be a pretty special word so my next friend was Mrs. Chronic. Then there was
Mrs. Leaf who was named that because I knew I needed another friend and I looking
up into the Kurrajong tree by the meat house my focus fixed on a particular leaf.
Mrs. Leaf came to life. My very best friend was Mrs. Chronic. The other two
weren‘t quite so special, but we all went everywhere together.
I had an aeroplane which was actually a big branch of the kurrajong tree that over
hung the meat house. I would spend absolutely hours up in this tree with Mrs.
Chronic, Mrs. Leaf and Mrs. Mingary. We would just travel the world. We would
have the most wonderful time. From there we would hop down and have a bit of a
go in the Buick. We did not actually miss out on anything in life. We saw the lot.
Sometimes when I wanted to be a little bit more creative and use my hands I would
make friends out of mops. I would do them up with plaits and put stockings on their
heads. I‘d wrap them up in dresses and walk around and around the surroundverandah talking to them. Yakking away having a wonderful time. Sometimes I
would sit at the table dressing up little pegs making them into persons and chat to
them. The invisible Mrs. Chonic, Mrs. Leaf, and Mrs. Mingary always joined in they were always there. Also I had numerous dolls, other dolls; a teddy and a doll
called Rosalie. She was my first real doll after Stinker and Sweetie – I think they
were still around with the dog and the rabbit, so I had quite a gathering.
In the south-eastern corner of the barren house yard grew a cactus plant. It was greygreen and grew like tall large-round pipes with rows of prickles down its sides.
Mum hoped it would fill in a void and Dad stuck a penny in its side as a stationary
marker to see how much it would grow above the penny. Eventually it got beyond
ten feet tall. I personified the cactus and made it into one of my other friends, ‗Mrs.
181
Cactus.‘ She could not go anywhere because she was anchored to the spot so I
would gather up my friends to visit her. We would chat and tea party away with her
as she raised a family of other little cacti that sprung from her base. She grew quite
tall and some of her family got to travel as Mum took some of the babies and
planted them in pots at various places that she lived. Mrs. Cactus has since been
killed by a front-end loader but she has family to remember her at Robertstown. I
am a bit sad that she has been flattened as she was quite a strength to me in my
childhood.
182
Appendix E
Faces in the Street (written July, 1888; pub. 1913)
By Henry Lawson
They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone
That want is here a stranger, and that misery‘s unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the streetDrifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feetWhile I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.
The human river dwindles when ‗tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the streetGrinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eatOh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.
And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the streetEbbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.
And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day‘s sad pages end,
For while the short ‗large hours‘ toward the longer ‗small hours‘ trend,
With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat,
Delilah pleads for custom at the corner of the streetSinking down, sinking down,
183
Battered wreck by tempests beatA dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that Woman of the Street.
But, ah! to dreader things than these our fair young city comes,
For in its heart are growing thick the filthy dens and slums,
Where human forms shall rot away in sties for swine unmet,
And ghostly faces shall be seen unfit for any streetRotting out, rotting out,
For the lack of air and meatIn the dens of vice and horror that are hidden from the street.
I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor?
Ah! Mammon‘s slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat,
When God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street,
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.
I left the dreadful corner where the steps are never still,
And sought another window overlooking gorge and hill;
But when the night came dreary with the driving rain and sleet,
They haunted me-the shadows of those faces in the street,
Flitting by, flitting by
Flitting by with noiseless feet,
And with cheeks but little paler than the real ones in the street.
184
Appendix F
Glimpse into a hidden world
At almost twenty years old, Chas was intent on an overland adventure on his motor
bike. Meeting him at a relative‘s twenty-first birthday celebration, I suspected that this
young man, with a vital interest in his world, could provide valuable insights for my
research; I was delighted when he agreed to be a participant. On the day before his
departure for his long ride, he turned up at my house to chat about his music (as a taped
interview). We began by considering his ‗musical‘ music:
Chas Well…it‘s hard to just lump everything into one, but I think the music I
listen to comes under alternative rock, or metal…
Eve
Can you think of any reasons why this alternative rock style music
might be musical to you?
Chas I guess it‘s partly with what I‘m brought up with, like…that‘s the music
that my peer group listen to and that‘s the music I got introduced to first
out of…I mean, apart from kiddy music…
Chas continued to pursue reasons for choosing his particular music:
Chas Some of it‘s to do with the lyrics. Some…which might be fine as a
purely audio thing, like if you were just listening to it as background
music, and you weren‘t thinking about it, I don‘t listen to some of that
because it has…like really mundane or really stupid lyrics…although,
musically…if you take the lyrics out…instrumentally it‘s fine…you
don‘t listen to the instrumental because you don‘t like the…lyrics of it.
Some of them were just downright stupid and didn‘t make sense…other
ones…just dealt with things which I didn‘t see as an issue…I just listen
to it once and then never listen to it again…the music I listen to I can
tell you about the lyrics of those.
Eve
So…the lyrics of the ones that you like listening to…any comments on
those?
Chas They often relate to…things like… I guess freedom…d‘y know the
band ‗Rage against the Machine?‘
Eve
No. I need educating.
Chas A lot of people don‘t find what they do very musical. I mean it‘s got
some percussion bass in it but it‘s certainly…it was very forward and
very modern when they did it…and, sort of through between 1990 and
2000 I guess…they broke up recently. That‘s a mix of rap and
percussion and doesn‘t really have any musical flow as you‘d think of it,
y‘know, from older style…it doesn‘t have clean guitars…it doesn‘t have
185
flowing drumbeats…
Eve
Is this why you think some people might not…
Chas And yeah…a lot of people don‘t find it very musical and don‘t like
it…but the lyrics all deal with freedom, how like some countries in the
world are hard done by…some people in the world are hard done by.
They‘ve been described as the world‘s richest communists…even
though they do live in a capitalist society and did make huge amounts of
money from selling their records which is kind of ironic.
His music was no mere entertainment. Listening to particular music affected his mood
and allowed him to address deeply held concerns. Chas explained:
Even though songs like ‗Pulling Teeth‘ are not happy…because I enjoy the
music and I appreciate it for what it is…it still improves my mood and makes
me happier although it‘s a sad song…because I‘m enjoying listening to it. Songs
that people have sung about happy topics, love stories and whatever, don‘t
necessarily make you happy because, if you don‘t like the music, you‘re sitting
there and going ‗Oh this is boring‘ and you want to change it and you‘re arguing
with the person who put it on because…so yeah, just because it was written in a
happy way and it might be a very ‗la-di-dah‘ song doesn‘t necessarily you to feel
that way. Anything that you like, because…it appeals to your psyche will make
you in a better mood as if you‘re doing something you don‘t like.
This serious aspect did not dominate, however, and Chas articulated his enjoyment of
listening to other, less introspective music:
…listening to darker music will still put you a more sombre mood, not
necessarily a dark mood or bad mood but probably a less joyful mood, as it
were…than listening to songs you like and in addition are happy songs as well
about good things ‗n sunshine ‗n lollipops ‗n whatever. For example, a song I
was listening to the other day…it‘s called ‗The Motor Cycle Song‘ and it‘s quite
a ridiculous song…an‘ it just goes: ‗I don‘t want a pickle, just want to ride on
my motorsickle‘, and continues in that vein. It really doesn‘t make all that much
sense, but…it‘s an amusing song to listen to…it‘s done just with vocals and a
simple, very simple guitar…I guess in the country sort of style and it‘s a happy
song about ‗motorsickles‘ an‘ I like motorsickles and it‘s also a song I don‘t
mind listening to the music. The music‘s quite nice, and that puts me in a tip top
mood.
It was not long, however, before we returned to the reflective powers of music. Chas
pondered a query about music as a means whereby listeners could feel more in touch
with grave situations in their world. He perceived music to be an important influence in
his world. Chas believed that the influence of bands could be powerful and that
combinations of lyrics and music carry messages that both performers and listeners wish
to spread. He reflected that complex meanings and moods were communicated between
bands and their followers; this made music an important social tool. He recognised
186
music as being an effective means of his connecting with his world and that the music
individuals‘ chose to listen to did effect self-view and their place in the community. As
he considered perceptions from Harry‘s data, he agreed that music played an important
role in the defining of the self:
Yeah…music that you play ‗n the music that you like, and the posters of bands
that you have on your wall…do identify you to your peer group ‗n to yourself as
well. You look at them ‗n you say…these ideals are what I hold to be important
and that helps you to define yourself more to other people than to yourself, I
think, but, they are kind of both the same thing…in some ways…if you define
yourself to be something then that‘s the image you put out to other people and
so, I do think the music you listen to…it really does affect the image you have
among your peer group and…to know yourself as well.
With ninety minutes gone, so many reflections hung in the air. Chas appeared to be free
about addressing issues raised, except for one; my attempts to uncover his deeper
perceptions pertaining to his self-view as being musical were niftily side-stepped, each
one ‗served back‘ or sidelined. I began to wonder whether such questions merely make
no sense to him, or whether I needed to modify my research process. By the time I had
transcribed the interview, Chas and his motorcycle had headed off North.
Upon his return, we arranged to meet. It was almost seven months since the first
interview. I listened to his thoughts on both the transcript of his interview and my brief
précis of his perceptions. Regarding the summary of his thoughts, he made one
comment: ‗It reads like an essay written in Year 11.‘ Thus this drop-out neatly
highlighted the importance of never underestimating another‘s view. He did, however,
approve the transcript summary with a curt: ‗Pretty good.‘
When in doubt, he made no pretence at understanding. He simply asked a question and
waited for clarification. Such an approach led me to hope that this young man could
help to get beneath the surface of his experiences and reach new insights into how selfperceived non-musicians might experience their musicality. Music was central to
everyday living for Chas. Along with other important things in life, music was a good
means of relaxing, of identifying with moods and for interacting with friends. Initially,
he objected to the idea of music as a useful ‗tool‘ as something which could highlight
differences with others (e.g., his father), but then accepted this interpretation as being
‗about right‘. He acknowledged my summary of his view and agreed that he was:
…happy as a consumer of music and am happy enough to immerse myself in
music made by professional musicians. Music can help ‗if there‘s something that
187
you don‘t like that you can‘t change you‘re pushing that to the side…and
bringing something else to the fore‘ by allowing you to really feel the frustration
and so let it go and then it looses its power to keep tormenting you.
However, he not approve one comment and sought to correct my misperception:
If it‘s something you don‘t like, music can bring it out into the open. By
acknowledging something that‘s wrong – in general – that, by not trying to hide
it, then you don‘t feel guilty about not doing anything about it. Acknowledging
is the key word. By acknowledging and keeping it in peoples‘ minds, these
things are not forgotten.
We continued to clarify his original comments where music:
…allows you to define yourself and identify yourself to others and also just as a
method of relaxing…just clearing your head, but now that I think about it, I
don‘t really know why other people listen to music or why they choose the type
of music they do. So you can only really know your own responses to music.
He reconsidered this and altered this understanding:
I would not go so far as this…when you‘re listening in a group, you can ‗read‘
responses of others. You can look at someone and think ‗you‘re thinking what
I‘m feeling about this music‘ – this is real cool – Whereas, others are out of the
loop.
Although I think it would be great to be able to play an instrument, I have no
regrets about not learning because [as he had already said: ‗I was taught but I
never really learnt‘] for me other pursuits where, putting in the hard yards was
not ‗hard‘ at all whereas practicing a musical instrument is. Applying yourself to
something is not ‗hard‘ when you do not find them a chore like…learning to ride
a motorbike I found to be great fun.
Chas responded to information from a study which examined musicians‘ music making
as part of a sense of self and social identity (Davidson, 1999) as being something that
was ‗too black and white.‘ However, in a way analogous to the musicians (in my ongoing research) he wrote in an email that ‗music has an effect on who I am and why I
am who I am‘. He continued: ‗the difference [between himself and a musician] is only
one of degree.‘19 He maintained his position that music is part of life‘s influences, in
combination with others. His emails became a useful catalyst to further insights. This
young man did find this iterative and detailed interaction to be useful. It had given him
new aspects for reflection and new ways to speak about musical involvement.
19
Unlike Sonya, his words indicated that he felt that he did belong in the ‗musical ballpark‘.
188
Appendix G
Lateralus
by Tool
1
2
3
Black then white are, all I see in my infancy.
Red and yellow then came to be, reaching out to me.
Lets me see.
4
5
6
As below, so above and beyond, I imagine
drawn beyond the lines of reason.
Push the envelope. Watch it bend.
7
8
9
Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind.
Withering my intuition, missing opportunities and I must
Feed my will to feel my moment drawing way outside the lines.
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Black then white are, all i see in my infancy.
red and yellow then came to be, reaching out to me.
lets me see
there is so much more and beckons me
to look thru to these infinite possibilities.
As below, so above and beyond, I imagine
drawn outside the lines of reason.
Push the envelope. Watch it bend.
18
19
Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind.
Withering my intuition leaving opportunities behind.
20
21
22
Feed my will to feel this moment, urging me to cross the line.
Reaching out to embrace the random.
Reaching out to embrace whatever may come.
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
(I embrace myyy
desire to 2x)
feel the rhythm, to
feel connected,
enough to step aside and,
weep like a widow, to
feel inspired, to
fathom the power, to
witness the beauty, to
bathe in the fountain, to
swing on the spiral, to
swing on the spiral, to
35
36
37
swing on the spiral of
our divinity and
still be a humannnnnnnnn
189
38
39
40
With my feet upon the ground I move myself between the
sounds and open wide to suck it in.
I feel it move across my skin.
I'm reaching up and reaching out. I'm reaching for the random or
what ever will bewilder me.
what ever will bewilder me.
And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's
been.
We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's
been.
(Spiral out. Keep going. 4x)
41
42
43
44
Lyrics retrieved July 1, 2007, from
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/tool/lateralus_20139398.html
Released
May 15, 2001
Recorded
October 2000 - January 2001 at Cello
Studios, Hollywood, California, The
Hook, North Hollywood, California,
Big Empty Space, North Hollywood,
California, The Lodge, North
Hollywood, California
Genre
Alternative metal
Progressive rock
Details retrieved July 1, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lateralus
Chas’s Music
(After Lateralus)
1
2
3
Boarding school is, where I am introduced by peers.
My music taste was more defined, [since from] thirteen years.
Does affect.
4
5
6
And still is music I listen to, lyrics and band
Give so powerful performance.
Hear the frustration. And the pain.
7
8
9
Simple guitar…‗happy motorsickles‘ – that song puts me in a tip top mood
But once you know something‘s not right, should be fixed, then just pushing it
into a corner won‘t necessarily make you happy.
10
11
12
13
14
Boarding school is, where I am introduced by peers.
My music taste was more defined, [since from] thirteen years.
Does affect.
When I first heard it; not engaging
But then I listened; moving the same way, if you will
190
15
16
17
You can move. Some in world hard done by; deal with freedom.
Give so powerful performance.
Hear the frustration. And the pain.
18
19
If it‘s something you don‘t like, then music can bring it out into the open.
Acknowledging something that‘s wrong, then you don‘t feel guilty about it.
20
21
22
When you‘re listening in a group you - can look at someone and think
‗You‘re thinking what I‘m feeling –real cool‘
‗Thinking what I‘m feeling – others out of the loop‘.
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
Acknowledge it and keep it
Acknowledge it and keep it
look at someone and
think ‗you‘re thinking
what I‘m feeling about this
music‘ this is real cool.
others are out of
the loop. covered in
sweat you shout everyone‘s
making the music, to
feel in the loop, and so
feel in the loop, and so
35
36
37
feel in the loop, and so
feeling the same way and
Everyone loves iiiiiiiiiiit.
38
Everyone is making music, covered in sweat it is cool and you can move – a
part of it
You can join in and interact.
They chat to us and hold a mike. In music it is hard to just lump everything in
one and know.
Lump everything in one and know
Acknowledging and keeping it I am [absolutely assured]
We gain a lot more from music than [just from] the spoken word.
In the loop. Is real cool. (Repeat 4x)
39
40
41
42
43
44
191
Appendix H
Participant views of their own singing
Participant
Participant raw data
Harry
Selfperception
(M=musical
N=not
musical)
N
Vi
N
I have no voice to sing, knowing that I have a hopeless voice I would
not like to inflict my singing on someone else…some people might
consider themselves good singers and their sounds come out as utter
noise. I would be one of those. I would hate to inflict that on someone
else. I did singing at school and high school. I‘ve got one of those
voices that just fall all over the place.
Caterina
N
My husband, he‘s from Ireland…they sing all the time‘n his Irish
friends sing all the time. ‗n I always think ‗God I wish I could sing‘
I‘ve always believed that I‘m a bad singer. I love music but I‘ve never
believed that I‘m someone who can sing in any way. I‘m just an
observer of music.
Howard
M
In school I…was just singing…school choir and I don‘t think I
was…well I know I wasn‘t very good…the music teacher would
listen to all singing and say ‗there‘s someone over there that‘s just not
quite in tune‘ ‗n and ‗just do it again‘ ‗n so we‘d all sing again, but
this time I would just mime it. I wouldn‘t actually sing…and get her
very upset ‗oh everything seems alright now‘ ‗n then off we‘d go
again. ‗N she never quite picked out that I was singing and then
miming ‗n she was trying to listen for really out of tune voices
coming through. It felt like I couldn‘t sing and I guess that‘s why…I
have always felt like I can‘t sing. I‘m not a very good singer.‘
Ada
N
We always sing (in Croatia). [But when I went to singing lessons
here] I started to sing - ‗oh my God, that‘s awful‘. I was sure I was
singing all the time out of tune. [At the eisteddfod] I thought ‗all these
poor people, all these poor ears‘.
Meg
N
Vic
N
My Dad was very flat. He‘d try and sing and you know, he‘d put
everybody out of the room. Neither of the children could sing – in
tune – they sing very flat like we all do
[Sing?] No not me! But my young bloke sings a bit – Elvis and that.
You‘re born to play football (or to sing). Born with a gift…sort of in
your blood I reckon. [Music] wasn‘t in mine though.
Andy
M
Can‘t sing, not even in the shower.
A lot of blokes in my generation are very…if you sing then they‘ll go:
‗oh shut the fuck up…fuckin‘ hell I don‘t want to listen to you fuckin‘
sing‘…and they‘ll put on the radio or something and listen to it…but
they don‘t sing along. [It‘s] probably worse with males…I don‘t
know…just a suspicion…like the description I just applied, it‘s just
like the denial of emotion. I think …they‘re probably related…you
know that masculine construct that everyone‘s talking about? I‘d say
on par with that…when you‘re totally drunk…all your mates
do…then, it‘s not only o.k. It‘s cosha. It‘s the done thing. You
know…and they love it too! They love it!