The general theme of the book is that the aesthetics of conservatories do not resonate with many members of communities of color, and that if we aim for demographic change—to recruit more students and professionals of color into orchestras and conservatories—we’re essentially approaching diversification as a project of assimilation. We actually have to change our institutions—to change not just the repertoire, but also how we think about making music, to include other traditions, harmonic and melodic languages, and ways of approaching music. I don’t mean this in an appropriative way, but rather, for example: If the intention in any given conservatory is to increase its percentage of Black students, then perhaps our musical language should also change to reflect the cultural backgrounds of those students. Right now, conservatories are trying to make those demographic changes without changing internally.
Your book might be considered an examination of music education aimed primarily at those in charge of shaping and delivering that education. What would you hope a student of that education might take away from the book?
I actually address this issue in the third chapter of the book, by saying that students have far more influence and power than they perceive, but this change is usually beyond the horizon of their graduation. Change in academia is really slow. This is true and not just a stalling tactic by the faculty and administration. But change is possible; it’s just on an extended timeline. Oberlin has been around for almost 200 years, so the reality is that nothing substantive and irreversible is going to happen in a timeline of two or three years. Students—especially undergraduates—sometimes struggle to fully exploit their potential as change agents because it’s hard to spend time agitating for change that will not affect your own student experience.
I’d say that it is important for students to consider how to improve conditions explicitly not for themselves or even their peers, but for future students whom they will never know. I’m not saying students don’t ever do that—just that it’s not the most common approach, in my experience. Students are capable of exerting significant influence over the institution if, through the leadership of student groups and continual peer education, they can sustain activism for a single goal and cooperative negotiation with the administration over a timeframe of five, 10, or more years.
Also, I would love for students to take away from the book the message that people who work at their schools can experience long-term growth and change from interactions we have with students. When presenting about this book, I talk about the journey that I went through to arrive at the place where I am now, and my own journey was very much precipitated by conversations with students. I can definitely think of situations nine or 10 years ago that I would handle completely differently now, and that’s because of the long-term impact of my experiences with generations of students. That’s a big part of why I wrote this book: to impart some of what I’ve learned from those experiences. And I would invite faculty and administrators not to be reflexively dismissive of student input and activism.
How have you seen the key takeaways of your book taking shape at Oberlin?
Especially following the summer of 2020, there were several exciting developments in the conservatory. There are many aspects of the curriculum that have changed fundamentally, especially in the area of music theory. And it wasn’t that I was leading those efforts or that my book was responsible; key members of the faculty and administration perceived they had a vested interest in doing things differently. The new African American music minor is one such example. It’s exciting for me because at industry conferences, there are conversations that focus on Oberlin and what we’ve been doing.
And it’s not a matter of that usual line that I really hate: We’ve made some changes, but we acknowledge we have much further to go… Obviously, the general conservatory environment remains alienating to many students. But also, some of the changes that have happened over the past few years are really fundamental and unprecedented in conservatory education. I don’t see any of our peers doing analogous work. And some of the changes that are still in the works are, frankly, even more disruptive to that standard model in really positive ways.
These changes are especially exciting because they link the process of creative development, of becoming a creative musician, to diversity. There is a tacit acknowledgment that the standard model has evolved to inhibit creativity, partly by suppressing the individual artist’s connection to their own culture and promoting cultural assimilation and homogeneity.
What gives you hope that the state of music education in America is improving and will continue to improve?
The two driving factors in the evolution—or stagnancy—of music education and classical music performance are ideology and finances. It’s ironic, because there are deep conversations that have been proceeding for years on both of these tracks, but the tracks are completely parallel and non-intersectional. It’s difficult to nurture ideological change when doing so seems to invoke existential financial risk, and it’s difficult to invest in new areas when there is ideological opposition. As long as financial models aren’t failing, the incentive is to stick with them, and I totally understand this impulse. Somebody has to be responsible for keeping the lights on; that’s the definition of the bottom line.
However, because America is diversifying rapidly, tastes are changing. As that happens, more conservatories and orchestras will feel sufficient pressure to experiment with new models. If those models are more financially successful than the old one, the old model will be jettisoned. I think the ideological currents have evolved faster than the financial pressures, so there is all this pressure and frustration built up behind a dam.
It’s still not certain what will happen. People have been predicting the demise of American orchestras for decades—actually, since at least the 1950s. Most of these orchestras were founded in the late 19th century, at the very earliest. That means that we’ve been expecting them to go under for the majority of the time they’ve been around. But the demographic change predicted in this country over the next few decades is more radical than anything we’ve seen before. Maybe the change that overtakes conservatory education over that time period will be just as radical.