What's theory good for?
Does it help? Does it hurt? Does it matter?
I haven’t written in a while. Is it the subliminal effects of having written last time about BLOCKS?? Or is it more that I’ve been traveling, engaged in a whirlwind of very different but equally rich experiences? Maybe I’ve been blocked, or maybe there’s been just too much swirling around in there. I have been at my childhood home, with all that that brings, visiting our beloved and esteemed Clifton, with whom regular readers have become acquainted; I have been at Spelman College, that inspiring and august institution where the same organist who played for MLK’s wake there in 1968 still holds forth, and where my daughter will start next fall (subscribe today, because pianists send their kids to college too!). I’ve had a magical visit in Atlanta with Clara Park, marvelous pianist and one of my oldest, dearest friends, whom I first met at music camp when we were 12 or 13, and with whom I went through graduate school (until we diverged for our DMAs, mine at Peabody and hers at Yale with Claude Frank. Does she remember hearing Claude Frank say “Energy begets energy”? I forgot to ask!). And I have been in Bloomington, Indiana with my dear twin and better half, soaking up the energies of her life at IU, her paintings, and of Ingrid herself. All sorts of influences have been acting on me, but in the midst of it, posts have not materialized. Well, as Jan so wisely says: you can’t push the river. And I’m back in Seattle, and Pride & Practicing is flowing again.
We were talking about blocking chords last time. Subscribers got two posts, a specific practice tool and an addendum with various musical examples of how this might work. I believe there is no question that this helps us enormously: engaging consciously with HARMONY. But did it make any of you wonder, what is it about music theory? Do I really need to know the names of chords, or to identify them by Roman numerals? What good is it to know the root, the quality, the inversion? And are all these categories of non-chord tones really important? Do we really care whether it’s a passing tone, neighbor tone, escape tone, appoggiatura, suspension, accented passing tone, blue note, wrong note? (And anyway, didn’t you tell us before that a right note at the wrong time is also a wrong note? I give up!) The question is: what IS it about understanding all that stuff that we call “theory”? Does it help? Does it hurt? Does it matter?
Sometimes people think knowing too much theory will kill the magic. It won’t! It couldn’t possibly. Why not?
And sometimes people think that if we just know enough theory, that knowledge will bring about the magic. It won’t! Not all by itself. Why not?
What IS the magic? What does theory have to do with it?
Let’s start here: our minds so love to put things in boxes. We can’t help it. And it can be satisfying in an innocent, enjoyable way: oooh, is that a Neapolitan chord? And what kind of flower is this? What is the origin of this particular chocolate, or this wine? How is it different from that one? What’s your astrological sign, your Meyers Briggs personality type, your enneagram number? Sometimes we just have fun with this, or give our busy little minds something to do. But also, sometimes this compulsion to categorize everything can also lead down some disturbingly hierarchical paths… which kind is BETTER? Which chord is better? Which composer is better? Which style of music is better? Which person is better? Uh-oh. Although of course we have our tastes and preferences, let’s please, please keep it to this: which is better for me? That is a question we can always safely ask! Another one: what is the effect of this chord, as opposed to that one? Otherwise, if we aren’t careful, we risk going down the path Arnold Schoenberg took (sorry, SW, I have to say it). Regarding his development of 12-tone compositional technique, Schoenberg pronounced, “….I have discovered something which will assure the supremacy of German music for the next 100 years.” That gives us pause, does it not (and coming as it did in 1921)? Essentially: I have discovered something better. Other things are therefore worse. This music is better, this culture is better, these (my) people are better. Others are worse.
Ouch. Oh my goodness. First: okay, I like Schoenberg! Pretty much. I don’t listen to his music for pleasure, but I do like it. Sort of. Maybe someday I will listen to it for pleasure. I used to like it more than I do now…. I don’t dislike it. There: that is my endorsement for today, not exactly ringing, but honest. Second: when we note that 12-tone music sounds like this, and we compare that to the standard fare offered up in concert halls over the last century (a repertoire overwhelmingly dominated by the likes of Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky…), we can see that Schoenberg’s prediction regarding the 12-tone style was not only maybe kind of scary, but also very, very far off base. Almost ridiculously so! If only he had said instead, “I have discovered something which I really like! And look, here is what I like about it…”
But of course that is not what he said. Did it ever occur to you that something as seemingly innocent as music theory could lead into territory this treacherous? It can and it has. But we are not socio-musicologists here; we just want to understand music so that we can play it beautifully. And (although Schoenberg’s is certainly one possible answer to our question about theory)—perhaps I have digressed.
I am going to assume for now that none of us is set on using our harmonic analysis for authoritarian purposes. But in the realm of our personal experience: it is easy to believe too strongly in our own understanding, and to allow our enjoyment of our own grasp of things to crowd out that which we are grasping. If the pleasure of the recognition of the chords overshadows the understanding of the message those chords are carrying, we have missed the point. Sometimes, when we can recognize “what it is,” we might be tempted to stop there, as though that were all there is to it. We labeled it! We’ve put it in its box and closed the lid. There. Done. What’s for lunch?
When it is taken as a pleasant but shallow exercise in classification & cataloguing; when it becomes a tool for any purpose other than musical expression (world domination, perhaps?); or when it simply distracts us from what else is present: these are the situations in which music theory might stand in the way. Let’s delve a little more into how it might be that theory distracts us or throws us off course.
Musical language, musical expression is ineffable at its core. Does knowing what chord that is add to the magic, or destroy it? Do we catch our breath at the sound of those interlocking tritones and experience in the pit of our stomach the drama of the way they pull us across the threshold to their resolution? Or do we think, oh, that. It’s just a French augmented sixth chord, that’s all. I know all about those—? Is there a point at which there is too much information? If the interesting part is in simply being able to identify all those chords, why bother hearing the music? If the interesting part is simply in letting the sounds wash over us, why bother understanding what the chords are?
When we say, “Oh, that. I know all about those” and the magic is nowhere to be found: absence of that ineffable spark is not because of our knowledge of the chord progression. It is because of our failure to also listen.
On the other hand, when we allow sounds to wash over us, at a pleasant surface level but without real engagement: then it is not much different from enjoying the sounds of a language we do not understand. We may find the sound of this foreigner’s speech delightful and appealing—and yet we have no idea what she is saying! Consider this: does understanding English enhance our pleasure in hearing a Shakespeare sonnet spoken? OF COURSE IT DOES! What a ridiculous question! Well then: understanding musical language enhances our hearing a Mozart sonata played (or Schoenberg’s Piano Suite, though for that we need a considerably less familiar dialect) in an analogous way. We don’t have to necessarily know the names for all the parts, but we have to engage with the music as a language.
Since we talked about harmonic blocks last time, let’s use harmony as a simple stand-in for the larger realm of music theory as a whole. Chords carry messages—emotional, psychological, dramatic ones. They do this individually, out of any context, and even more so in how they relate to one another. The more extensions we add (7ths! 9ths! 11ths, 13ths….), and the more non-chord tones we throw in (passing tones, neighbor tones, appoggiaturas, escape tones, suspensions), the more nuance there is to these messages. Quick, think of 5 different words expressing sadness. Each will carry a slightly different nuance, though they are similar: the same is true of chords that have important things in common (the root, whether the 3rd is major or minor), but differences in detail (7th added, 9th maybe? suspension? inversion?). In the detail, it can get complicated! Jazz players know a harmonic language that can seem almost impossible for the uninitiated to disentangle (and, muddying the waters further, classical players might label the very same chords quite differently). There can be a certain know-it-all satisfaction in correctly identifying an F#7(b9/#5) chord (jazz), or a viio7/vi in 3rd inversion (classical). But once again: so we’ve caught this chord, put it in a box. Now what?
Even sitting there in their cages, where we’re keeping them for further study, our chords may be multifaceted and complex. But—do you know what is SIMPLE? Function. How does the chord function? What are its possible functions? Do you know what that means?
In our language analogy (which, NB, is so very apt but must remain loose and flexible): if the different details that distinguish two similar chords make the subtle difference between, say, desolate and morose: knowing the function of the chord is more like knowing its part of speech. Is it more like an adjective or a verb? Let’s focus most on the areas of music theory that can help us understand what the musical language is actually saying. Dear readers, I present to you (below) the three primary harmonic functions that apply in tonal music (not Schoenberg!). Know in your minds which chords live where, and enjoy knowing that; but even more, HEAR them, follow them where they lead, open up to them! Hear function. Chord function is like the deep current at the bottom of the river (which cannot be pushed), and it is always simple. Harmonic analysis is not always simple, but the deepest levels of what those chords are up to always is. The complicated parts are further towards the surface. The simple parts are always down there somewhere, and they are driving all the rest.
The following chord functions are things we feel in our gut, whether we’ve ever heard of music theory or not. We need to approach it with our minds, our ears and our GUTS. You will find function in your guts, in your instincts. You might have to dig around a little to find it, but trust me, it’s there. All of the following descriptions are relative and subject to infinite varieties of nuance, but here goes:
TONIC function: resting. Home (real, forever home, or a temporary substitute for home…). Settled, needing nothing for now. This “home” may or may not be a place we want to be, but we are there (whether momentarily or in a more definitive, final way). Stable.
SUBDOMINANT function: in-between. Moving towards, but not there yet. Sometimes a quality of expansiveness. Sometimes a quality of yearning. Sometimes leading. Movement; can’t stay there (though we may wish to). Not knowing whether our hopes will be fulfilled; things could go either way.
DOMINANT function: a sound with an agenda. Standing at the gates, prepared to walk through. A question! A need to resolve; an expectation that resolution is at hand (whether momentary, or at the level of large formal structures). A sense of agency and power, perhaps entitlement (is a dominant chord entitled to its tonic?). The point of decision. What will happen next has now been foretold, or at least strongly predicted.
HARMONIC FUNCTION! You can see I feel strongly about this. An upcoming featured practice tool will offer subscribers some more specific ways to explore function in pieces you’re working on; I will spare general readers all the Roman numerals for now. But I hope, if you consider this business about function a little bit, that you’ll start to see that chord function is more about human experience and behavior than it is about numbers of the scale (though we’ll need that). Don’t get caught up in counting beans! Or—count those beans, but don’t stop there! Feel it in your gut. Know it’s true. Practicing mirrors life, but for today let’s note that music itself mirrors life—and in ways that are breathtakingly precise, specific and nuanced. If we are alive and we pay attention, we can “get” this musical language. We can get it in our brains, ears and guts. Maybe learning to pay attention to musical language is not that different from learning to pay real attention to our own guts.
One last musing on this question for today. In case I have digressed to such an extent that you’ve forgotten the question, it’s basically this: What is knowing theory good for, really? As pianists, what is its proper role in our approach to any piece of music?
The deck’s been shuffled, the cards are dealt! We will find different answers.
For those who were dealt a hand of cards that includes what we might call innate musicality (and which, for today’s purposes, might be more precisely described as an exquisite sensitivity to the ways pitches relate to one another, though rhythm is a huge part of this too): where this is the starting point, understanding theory provides structure, vocabulary and a sort of mental architecture. This architecture simply supports the awareness of those musical phenomena whose true nature is already known without need for words or labels. If we’re dealt these cards, we start from the emotional, psychological or sensual experience of the music, and connect that to the mental structure that theory provides. Then, theory helps us to expand in the direction of comprehending and expressing whole forms, large-scale structures—going beyond producing a series of beautiful, sensitive, “musical” moments in our playing.
For those who were dealt a hand of cards that does not include these particular “natural musicality” cards (though it may include many other wonderful and useful ones): music theory offers a genuine way in. Understanding something about theory from a mental, intellectual perspective can take us by the hand and lead us to function, for example—by which I mean, lead us to recognize what is already there in our guts. And then we discover that musicality, musicianship, can be learned. Yes, it can! Or perhaps I should say, discovered in ourselves—because I firmly believe it is already there, somewhere, for each one of us. Again, we may just need to dig around a little to find it, and theory can help with that. Theory can take us by the ear and lead us where we need to go. Just as we may not have been dealt the pianistic royal flush of you-know-who, but can develop our technical skills from wherever we are: the same is true of our musicianship. We may start from the mental structure that our theory knowledge provides. At first we may feel that we are on the outside looking in—but then, we find we can harness this understanding for what should be its highest purpose: to move us from there towards and into the expressive nature of the music. Coming to understand how certain chords behave can lead us then to truly hear how these chords behave, and then to relate to how these chords behave. Now we’re cooking with gas, and talking to Mozart.
I like how music “theory” is in fact music “reality.” What we call theory is nothing more or less than that what music is actually made out of. And yet—theory is not the music itself. The Shakespeare sonnet is made of words—and yet it is more than words, isn’t it? Musical meaning is ineffable and can never be reduced to labeling a chord progression or a sonata form structure.… and yet the music is built of chord progressions and formal structures. Go figure. It is a mystery, and all the music theory in the world can never kill it off! Happy practicing, and just for today I will add: happy harmonic analysis, if you find yourself so inclined! (Hear function!) Thanks for reading, and if you enjoy Pride & Practicing, please share it with your friends.
As for Schönberg, our local music announcer once threatened listeners that if they didn't cough up X amount of dollars in the next hour we were going to have a Schönberg festival.
And Theory was one of those things that Artur Schnabel considered it doesn't hurt to know.
SW here. I also don't listen to Schoenberg when I listen for "pleasure" to music or when I need a good cry because a composition of music is so beautiful, even though it is complex, it rips my heart out. But I do listen to Schoenberg when I try to understand the chaos of reality. Not beautiful, but it gives me a sense of control over the results of chaos. BTW, Schoenberg did write a book called "The Theory of Harmony."