I grew up in a musical family. My mother played piano well until age 93. Both older brothers played (they don’t anymore) and sang (they still do). My sister and I play and sing for a living.
My German immigrant dad sat silently, smiled, and paid for the lessons. He’d insist on live music at all family gatherings – sometimes even when we were in public places where we weren’t too sure other patrons were so overjoyed to hear the Frohnmayer extended family bursting into song.
Dad, despite his humble roots, became quite patrician in his old age and said he thought our singing was good for them. When you grow up in a house where people “do” music, it’s not hard to get caught up in it.
I remember listening to the orchestral suite from Bizet’s “Carmen,” and at age three the old 78 rpm changer didn’t drop the next record down quickly enough for me. I’d give it a push over the spindle down on to the turntable. Pretty soon the center holes on each platter were a little bigger than they needed to be so the music wasn’t quite steady in pitch. My parents were amazingly forgiving – about that, anyway.
Then came the music lessons – piano at first. Who really wants to practice? We all want to play, but practicing with its feelings of clumsiness and ineptitude is usually tedious, especially at first.
My mother was uncompromising with us, supervising as she cooked dinner. She had absolute pitch and would shout “c-sharp, not c-natural” or some such from the kitchen. It couldn’t have been much fun for her, but we all learned.
And we sang. Why should children, adults, anybody sing? Well for one thing, because it feels good. Taking a breath and having it come back out in the form of buzz, resonance and music makes your head ring and can massage all your bad feelings away. It can be either an individual or social activity. It brings you together with other people and can foster agreement where chaos existed before.
Musical illiteracy is as serious a problem for our culture as any other kind of illiteracy. Most of us don’t sing or play anymore, so we don’t always know what’s good and what isn’t. So much is lost in this way.
The purpose of music, to paraphrase J. S. Bach, ought to be to glorify God and provide recreation for the mind. It’s the recreation part that catches my attention. Since when do adults think they can get away without this kind of play?
As a teacher of singing, I come face to face with young people every day of my life. Most of them have sung as children; many of them also have studied an instrument. As teachers we try to give them the tools they need to improve.
Learning to sing or to play better requires fundamental change on the student’s part – you have to take stock of yourself and your habits. You practice alone in a room, exploring your limitations and learning how to overcome them. I feel that voice study in particular has great power to foster personal growth – certain life lessons get internalized in a way that can only happen when you yourself are the instrument.
“Oh,” my students say, “I didn’t know I could sing that note! It’s always been too high for me.” Or “when I let go, my voice sounds completely different!”
And that music which we study, written by great composers past and present, provides us with untold riches.
So studying music can be life-changing. What better way to learn that boundaries that we thought to be insurmountable are not real but only perceived or that we can enter into challenging situations and be victorious?
Recognition in life is fleeting and ephemeral. Some of my students may achieve great renown. Some might labor in another field with great distinction, nevertheless working and serving in relative obscurity. But with music, you can learn the value of hard work and understand that real accomplishment never disappoints.
So don’t let yourselves or your future children eat dessert first. Sit down and practice their pieces with them, then you get a treat. I could go on and on, but I’ve gotta sing!
~ Philip Frohnmayer is the Rita O. Huntsinger Distinguished Professor of Music & Vocal Studies coordinator.