On My Blossoming Love of Atonal Music

I was a romantic teenager. Chopin nocturnes made me cry, Haydn sonatas made me laugh, and Rachmaninov concertos sent me into little fits of Russian brooding. I had to feel the music in the very depths of my soul. Music wasn't an intellectual experience. It was an art form. If I had to study it in order to appreciate it, then it wasn't doing its job properly. If it didn't move me to some deep emotion, then it most definitely wasn't doing its job properly.

You can guess at what my first encounter with atonal music was like. It was Schoenberg's Klavierstuck, Op 33a. At the time, it was the first piece of music I had ever heard that didn't sound like music. To me, it was a jumble of notes. There was nothing I could express about it. For the first time in my life, I couldn't say, "This music makes me feel [blank]." I discarded it, and the entirety of atonal music. It wasn't worth my time. Not when there was Mozart to be listened to.

In the meantime, I had taken my first theory classes at Baylor. My knowledge of theory prior to Baylor was slim, but I love knowing things, and theory was no different. I learned how to analyze chord progressions, pick apart fugues (this is still my favorite), and diagram forms. Obviously, this helped me to appreciate music in a new way. It was still emotional, but it wasn't quite so mystical. A Haydn sonata still made me smile, but now I knew why.

Eventually, I realized that I could (perhaps) enjoy atonal music in the same way. I read books. I took the requisite class on 20th century theory. And the learning worked! I could listen to Wozzeck without grinding my teeth, because I understood--at least to some small extent--what Berg was doing. I could listen to Webern and appreciate his sparse compositional style. Every piece a perfect miniature: focused, economical, almost spartan.

I still don't enjoy atonal music in the same emotional way that I enjoy, say, Schubert. But I don't think that's the point. The point is, I've realized that music can be enjoyed in different ways. Music can be emotional, but it doesn't have to stir the soul in order to be called music. Music can be enjoyed in a purely intellectual way. I appreciate atonal theory, and because of that, I appreciate the music itself in how well-constructed it often is. I'm not going walk around campus whistling a happy, little, atonal tune, but that doesn't detract from the music's value.

I'm almost embarrassed to post this, because it seems so obvious now. I think that any intelligent, thoughtful person would eventually come to the same conclusion. But still, I feel like I've discovered a vast treasure of music which I can reflect on, emotion aside. Also, I just really like learning new things.

PhDs

I've been spending time this week researching grad schools. This is exciting and terrifying. It means that I have to think about the rest of my life. I'm getting married, and going to grad school. That's the exciting part. The scary part is when I graduate with a doctorate and have to start looking for a job which I may not ever get.

I want to get a doctorate in musicology, and teach at a university. But that may not ever happen. I'll still go get a PhD, but that certainly doesn't guarantee that I will ever be able to teach at a university. There are so many people and so few jobs. Music is a popular field, and I understand that. But from everything that well-meaning professors have told me, the competition is downright cutthroat. The prospects are grim, to say the least. And I dislike that I'm less worried about getting into a good program, and more worried about being able to actually put my degree to good use.

Musicology is more exciting to me than just about anything in the world. I know that this is what I need to do. I know that I'm good at it. I know that I wouldn't be nearly as happy doing anything else. But when I hear from a tenth professor that it took him ten years to find a tenure-track position, it starts to get discouraging. What do I do when I hear horror stories from everyone who hears about my grad school plans? When a professor tells me, "Don't do it! It's not worth it!"? Not get a doctorate because it might not pay off? Disregard their advice and do it anyway?