MU1 is called “Introduction to Western Music,” but thus far it’s been “Introduction to Musical and Audio Concepts with Western Examples.” Most of the work that we’ve done in the first two weeks has been, basically, an extended exercise to equip us with a musical-analytical framework.
This has been a valuable experience in and of itself. It’s been a long time since I played any music intensively, and our discussions of key and mode and harmony, and particularly our refresher on musical notation bring to mind long-dormant memories of afternoons at my early piano teacher’s house. I remember how the white shades on Susan’s french doors used to blow in the wind when the front windows were open in the spring and summer. Sometimes I’d wear shorts to my lessons, and the underside of my leg would squeak on her polished piano bench. I used to practice in our living room at Arbor Drive. The first real memory of me playing the piano was when my cousin Sarah-Jane came out to visit (no idea how old I was). She brought her sheet music to practice. I remember watching her play, then get up and walk into the kitchen. I jumped on the piano bench and started to play, just looking for sounds that sounded like they should be together. After that, Mom started me with Susan.
My current music teacher is neither as tall, blond or pretty as Susan, but has an undeniable and unique appeal all his own. Professor Josephson is a 50ish, small, mildly squat, graying man with notably big ears. (Upon meeting him, one cannot help but wonder if this last notable attribute is in some way responsible for his other immediately notable one: his dazzling, passionate, deep love of music.)
Class meets Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 9AM. There is a 2.5 hour listening session on Wednesday afternoons. The typical format of the class is that we talk about musical concepts for a while, perhaps with Prof. Josephson playing notes on the Stetson Grand off to the right in our small, stadium seating classroom. Then we listen to song samples, sometimes whole, sometimes just quick sections to illustrate a point.
Discussion is not like most classes, to put it lightly. Professor Josephson is a stickler for good grammar, in both written and spoken form. (Strunck & White is a required book for the course.) He particularly detests the use of fillers like “like”, “um”, or “uh.” When he feels the need to pause to think of how to phrase something correctly, he just breathes out in a particularly throaty manner, his head arched slightly back. The look in his eye is when he does this is of mild shock, not dissimilar to a man surprised not to find he tea in its customary cupboard. He checks another cupboard of his vast stores, frowns that someone put his tea back in the wrong place, then leans his head back forward and launches into his now fully formed thought. All the while, this mildly throaty breath has been slowly given back to the world, perhaps his span spins a bit at the wrist, conjuring up the words.
He is terrible with names, the fact of which he made full-disclosure the first day. People who are not too right or not too wrong do not need names. People who respond outside of this anonymous average trigger Josephson’s realization that he does not remember their name. Hearing it, he points, repeats the name, and walks on. He tries to look like he’ll remember it now, but smiles anyway out of self-knowledge.
The lectures, such as they are, are filled to the brim with historical and personal anecdotes, interesting musical etymologies, and sardonic, semi-cynical commentary on the state of the American political system. What comes across most, though, is a powerful love of the music we study in class. There have been several times when we noticed tears in his eyes while he was discussing topics in class. The two examples most prominent in my head are when he talked about Bach and his compositional genius, and when he talked about Leontyne Price, the African-American soprano prodigy, who seems to have stolen his heart from a very young age.
It’s a great class, with enough energy, richness, and daily surprise to get me out of bed early three days a week. There’s maybe no better compliment I can give than my consistent attendance.