Oxford Handbooks Online: The Choral Experience: Turned Inside Out

The Choral Experience: Turned Inside Out
Oxford Handbooks Online

Paul D. Head
The Oxford Handbook of Choral Pedagogy
Edited by Frank Abrahams and Paul D. Head
Print Publication Date: Apr 2017 Subject: Music, Music Education

Online Publication Date: Mar 2017 DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199373369.013.3
Abstract and Keywords
Much has changed in the choral rehearsal room over the past two generations,
particularly in regard to the role the choral conductor assumes—or commands—in the
rehearsal process. This chapter discusses the ever-evolving stereotypical roles of the
conductor, while examining alternatives to traditional leadership models with particular
emphasis on the encouragement of student engagement and peer-based learning. In
addition to the facilitation of collaborative learning exercises, the chapter outlines a
specific process of written interaction with the choral ensemble. This section is inspired
by the renowned “Dear People” letters of Robert Shaw. Finally, in response to the recently
revised National Standards for Music Education in the United States, the author
discusses possible implementation of the Standards in a performance-based classroom. In
the shadow of the relatively recent phenomena of collegiate a cappella groups, these
student ensembles have created a new paradigm for peer-led instruction.
Keywords: choral conductor, Peer-based learning, Student engagement, Robert Shaw, National Standards, a
cappella
TO this day, I have vivid recollections of my undergraduate conducting professor leading

a discussion about the qualities of the effective conductor, touting the familiar adage that
“the role of the conductor is that of a benevolent dictator.” The intended message was, in
fact, altruistic and deliberate. At the end of the day, one person in the rehearsal room is
charged with making musical decisions, and if everything is in place, the members of the
ensemble will accept rehearsal directives as undisputable truths that will ultimately lead
to choral excellence.
This was near the end of an era when legendary conductors like Arturo Toscanini,
Leopold Stokowski, and Eugene Ormandy were very much in the collective consciousness
of conducting students everywhere. Innumerable anecdotes inspired by quotations from
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the podium served to offer informal guidelines that shaped the ideology of a generation of
conductors in training.1
Why do you always insist on playing when I’m trying to conduct?
Eugene Ormandy
I don’t mean to make you nervous, but unfortunately, I have to.
Eugene Ormandy
God tells me how the music should sound, but you stand in the way.
Arturo Toscanini
In the context of choral pedagogy, statements such as these were uttered in an era when
the systematic study of conducting and rehearsal technique was still an emerging
phenomena. The postwar era brought the baby boom with its increased demand for
public schools, teachers to staff them, and university music education programs to
prepare those teachers. A few Lutheran college choirs in the Midwest had once defined
the American choral tradition. These programs had now become the gold standard for
building excellent high school programs, a tradition that would flourish through from the
1960s through the 1980s throughout the nation.
But much has changed since Toscanini was an icon and the Lutheran choir was
(p. 48)
the sole harbinger of the state of the choral art. Today, we live in an age when cyber-
communities have largely replaced local bowling teams, religious communities, and other
opportunities for humans to interact—in a physical space—with one another. Eric
Whitacre’s foray into the realm of virtual choirs has yet to supersede the desire for people
to travel a few miles for making music with others in real time in a real space. But at the
same time, technological advances ranging from social media to a plethora of options for
24/7/365 connectivity have placed extraordinary demands on people in the realm of time
management. “I would love to sing in the community choir, but I simply can’t find the
time!”
Additionally, the time-honored traditions of the high school and university chorus are
being challenged as well. Ask a young person if they have a choral music program at her
school, and she is more likely to cite participation in a student-run a cappella group than
membership in the formal choral organization on campus. Students will enthusiastically
report that they sang all the way through high school and college, then go on to admit
that they didn’t realize the school had “a choir,” nor have they ever participated in an
ensemble led by a “conductor.”
This chapter focuses on the ever-evolving role of the conductor, acknowledging both the
challenges to traditional paradigms (which in turn, are causing many to rethink the
preparation of pre-service teachers); the effect that technological advancement (I use the
word advancement with admitted skepticism) has had on the traditional norms of
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community—musical or otherwise; some specific strategies for encouraging musical

ownership during and outside the rehearsal; and finally, the emergence of musical
communities that function without a designated leader or the pedagogical expertise of a
professional conductor.
The Historical Role of the Conductor

Having graduated from undergraduate school in the mid-1980s, I look back on that
decade as a significant turning point in the history of choral music education. There was
a tacit expectation that conducting students would maintain a sense of reverence for the
great conductors who had gone before—not only the orchestral greats mentioned above,
but for the acknowledged leaders in educational institutions as well, including well-
established and highly regarded high school and college conductors.
At that time, a book entitled The Choral Experience: Literature, Materials, and Methods
(Robinson & Winold, 1992) was very much in vogue, and somewhat unique given the
inclusion of a chapter that traced the historical development of the conductor from the
Renaissance to “the present day.” Particularly telling is this definition of “the conductor in
the twentieth century”:
The conductor in the twentieth century has emerged as a virtuoso in his own
right. The demands which the composer has placed upon the conductor of
contemporary music have required a program of extensive training. (p. 44)
Robinson and Winold (1992) go on to discuss the requisite training and discipline
(p. 49)
necessary to attain the expertise that makes one worthy of standing in front of an
ensemble, yet within that stream of consciousness, they offer this remark that
foreshadows the trends of the decades to follow:
As the leader of a communicative-education experience, the choral conductor

must be trained as a facilitator—one who is able to create and control a special
kind of learning environment and evoke an empathic response from the
participants in the choral experience. (p. 44)
A decade-and-a-half later, a landmark publication entitled In Quest of Answers: Interviews

with American Choral Conductors (Glenn, 1991) sought to reveal insights from thirty-four
conductors had been identified by the editor/interviewer as leaders in the choral
profession. Not surprisingly, the question “What are the most important musical and
personal qualifications for a successful conductor?” elicited a broad range of responses,
each of which not only represents a diverse ideological perspective, but collectively, the
evolving perceptions of what conductors do. Consider the following responses,
particularly in regard to the conductor’s role on the podium:
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A conductor’s first duty is to his composer, and his composer’s welfare. After that
comes the chorus and the orchestra, and long, long after these comes the
conductor. I don’t think Szell had a great deal of charisma in the “beautiful
people” sense of the word, but he had an incredible mind and enormous
intellectual energy. That has to be there.
Margaret Hillis (Glenn, 1991, p. 110)
The most important musical qualifications are the ability and facility to study the
score … The conductor should have a rich musicological and historical
background. It would be wonderful if our performers and conductors had the sort
of richness of background that Hindemith had and also had his facility for score
reading, either at the keyboard or away from the keyboard.
Robert Shaw (Glenn, 1991, p. 118)
Probably of equal importance to musicianship is leadership ability. An effective

conductor must be a good leader … Of course, what goes into effective leadership
is a complex thing. It involves many skills, abilities and personal traits. Along with
this, there must be an enthusiasm for people, an enthusiasm for choral music, and
above all, and enthusiasm for life.
Dale Warland (Glenn, 1991, p. 120)
A conductor must be a warm person. Carl Jung, the noted psychologist, speaks of
our “feeling function.” I would deem it important that we in our profession have a
high feeling-function.
Weston Noble (Glenn, 1991, p. 115)
(p. 50) And finally, two additional perspectives that again, seem forward-looking:
The conductor should have musicianship, intelligence, a passion to communicate

through word and gesture, and an understanding of how people learn.
Joseph Flummerfelt (Glenn, 1991, p. 109)
It is important that a choral conductor be an outgoing person a person who cares

about people, who is interested in people, who is open to people, who is
responsive to them and interacts with well with them.
Lloyd Pfautsch (Glenn, 1991, p. 117)
Now, nearly a quarter-century later, it would be interesting to recreate this exercise in an

effort to document the pervasive ideologies at play in the present day. Interestingly,
today’s conducting pedagogues seem to be gravitating to the metaphysical and
psychological realm:
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Perhaps no area of my personal conducting pedagogy has grown as much as my

appreciation and understanding of the importance of an awareness of one’s soul
and spirit before any conducting study begins. While many believe this is not the
stuff of beginning conducting study, I now strongly disagree. Humanness brought
to conducting through careful thought and study allows gesture to be expressive
and compelling because it is developed from an understanding of self. Without
this, there can be no meaningful gesture, and there will never be beautiful sound.
(Jordan, 2009, xxx)
Our conducting must grow beyond the merely technical to become a personal
language of gesture, born from the kinesthetic experiences unique to each choir,
which elicits a physical and musical response from the singers. The physical
impetus of the conductor must be given an inner context with which to resonate in
the singer.
Our rehearsal style must evolve into a realm of creating experiences, both
affective and physical, and into a safe place to experience emotional bonding,
intimacy, and vulnerability. We must be more intentional in providing life-lessons
and personally expressive explorations. We must encourage our singers to be
participants in the creative process as opposed to merely being reactive to the
conductor’s creativity.
(Boers, 1998, p. 74)
All this considered, we live in a time of many dichotomies where initiatives like the
constructivist classrooms and problem-based learning have been heralded as teaching
innovations, regardless of discipline, to foster increased student engagement. But at the
same time, sweeping reforms tied to standardized testing focused on the “Core
Curriculum” leave teachers little time for teaching beyond the test.
With the recent reworking of the National Association for Music Education (NAfME)
National Standards, we see music educators searching for equilibrium in the assessment-
engagement conundrum, while at the same time, students in our classrooms are arriving
with different expectations as to what their “expert facilitator” should provide.
Assuming the dual role of editor of, and a contributing author to, this handbook, I
(p. 51)
have been intrigued not only with the diversity of conceptual ideas related to the idea of
choral pedagogy, but even more so by the linear nature of these writings that present an
overview of what’s happening in the choral rehearsal today. Bjella and Goetze delve in
repertoire and programming as the basis for curriculum. Abrahams identifies specific
rehearsal strategies based on “critical pedagogy,” and Madura traces the development of
ensemble singing in the media that may or may not resonate with those who identify
themselves as choral professionals, but has had an undeniable and profound effect upon
those people seated in our rehearsal rooms.
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What I find most intriguing, however, is that none of these circumstances live in a
vacuum. In the same way that a typical sixteen-year-old listens to music in “shuffle mode”
on his mp3 player (implying that they have little or no desire to make a distinction
between genres previously labeled as classical or popular, serious or commercial,
traditional or world) most are inclined to say that a musical experience is a musical
experience—simple as that! If there is a definition related to hierarchy, it’s more likely to
be something to effect of, “I get it and I like it,” or “this sounds like music written by dead
white guys, and I really don’t care for that.”
It bears stating the obvious that in most middle class homes, a 48” television now
occupies the place where the family piano once stood, and the time allotted for lesson
preparation has either been redistributed to preparation for advanced placement exams,
or forfeited to interactive video gaming, which in itself demands a level of engagement
and interaction than was not required of those who sat docilely in front of the television
just a generation or two ago.
It is at the nexus of these varied perspectives and parameters where today’s conductor
and choral educator finds the greatest challenge. Unattainable norms are set forth by
pristine digital recordings and overproduced Hollywood television programs, while choral
directors are greeted with singers who are seemingly disenfranchised, apathetic, or
simply shell-shocked by the constant overstimulation of life in the 21st century.
As so well identified by the aforementioned authors, there is an increasing

preponderance of conductors who are responding to challenge with artistic innovation,
while replacing or reinventing traditional authoritative leadership with a process more
closely aligned to Socratic principles. Professional ensembles like Voces Nordicae in
Sweden, Voces 8 in the United Kingdom, or Conspirare in the United States emulate the
concept of the shuffle mode when pairing music from the Renaissance with creative
settings of popular tunes that find commonality in thematic substance and poetic intent.
Now that the iPod generation has entered the ranks of influential choral directors, this
has become an increasingly common approach to programming for school, community,
and even church choirs. In this realm, Gorecki pairs with Gospel, Brahms segues to the
The Beatles, and Rachmaninov is mirrored in songs by Regina Spektor.
While perhaps an unintended consequence, this eclectic approach to programming

provides innumerable possibilities for teachable moments, as clear delineations of genre,
style, ethnicity, and performance practice give way to the collaborative imagination of the
(p. 52) performers. Consider Bjella’s program examples where Carmina Burana, Medieval
chant, and Bobby Mcferrin are assembled into a seamless expression of “Mirrored
Messages.” Or Craig Hella Johnson’s affinity for crafting sophisticated arrangements of
folk and pop music that illuminate the poetic essence of paired compositions by
Mendelssohn or Bach. For the iPod generation singer, not only does this juxtaposition
seem unremarkable, but provides the conductor with an opportunity to exploit a
thoughtful setting by a contemporary songwriter, while facilitating inquiry and discussion
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that might help the singer find parallel meanings amidst musical settings perceived by
students as archaic, or shrouded in the mystery of a foreign language or an unfamiliar
style.
This leads to the mechanics of the engaging choral rehearsal itself. Though the lens of
critical pedagogy, Abrahams provides several concrete examples of facilitating an
environment where singing participants assume an active role in making musical
decisions, ranging from guided discussion in response to thought-provoking prompts, to
peer listening exercises where students are charged with making concrete evaluative
remarks as related to musicianship and interpretation.
Creating an Environment That Fosters Student

Engagement
Give the pupils something to do, not something to learn; and the doing is of such a
nature as to demand thinking; the intentional noting of connections; learning
naturally results.
(Dewey, 1916, p. 154)
I have known many choral directors who believe collaborative rehearsal in the classroom
begins with the selection of repertoire, facilitating a process where students peruse the
music library with the objective of assembling a program that “the students will buy in
to.”
While I appreciate the intent of such an exercise, this seems something akin to asking a
calculus class to submit a list of their favorite equations and theorems, regardless of
anticipated learning outcomes at the end of the course. The selection of repertoire
represents the very foundation of a comprehensive curriculum (Head, 2011). Extensive
discussion about the strategies for choosing repertoire is beyond the scope of this article,
except to reinforce the pervading concept that pedagogues and educational theorists
dating back to John Dewey and beyond are adamant that student engagement begins with
assuring that the content presented is worth the pursuit of the inquiry, and that the
method of delivery must be varied and thoughtful in acknowledging that every person
learns differently and at a different pace. Music teachers are often reticent to give
serious consideration to differentiated instruction beyond meeting the criteria mandated
for the learning disabled. But true artistry in teaching begins with curricular design of a
nature that demands thinking. In this case, this involves thinking about vocal (p. 53)
production, historical context, cultural influence, musicological influence, varied textures,
and stylistic nuances, and in the end, the unique aesthetic response each student will
derive from the encounter with a particular composition.
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I was teaching high school when NAfME (then MENC) first published the national
standards for music education. I could recount innumerable stories of grieving and angst
amongst my colleagues serving as high school choral directors, staring blankly at
standards number three (Improvising melodies, variations, and accompaniments,) and
four (composing and arranging music within specific guidelines) (Music Educators
National Conference, 1994).
I agreed with my peers that teaching a classroom of seventy-five ninth graders to

compose a sonata seemed a bit beyond the reality of this “performance-based” class, but
at the same time, I thought we were a bit hasty in dismissing what I believed to be the
implicit nature of these directives. Improvisation is largely concerned with the
development of aural skills, understanding the basic tenants of tonality, and teaching
students to listen to one another. Truth be told, singers in my ninth grade chorus were
improvising all the time, albeit as a result of their inability to sing the notes printed on
the page. My personal objective was to empower a student to know when she was singing
the indicated pitch, and in many cases, to develop a sense of pitch acuity that would allow
her to distinguish dissonance from consonance. And so it is that the core of studying
improvisation is the ability to grasp theoretical principals, while developing the aural
skills to put those to work.
My approach to teaching composition was a similar endeavor, noting that in the same way
John Grisham writes in a discernibly different style than Shakespeare, so it is also with
the compositional stylings of Mozart, Palestrina, Whitacre, Brahms, and Britten. Despite
the requirement to compose in music school, I certainly never considered myself a
composer, though I did come to know a great deal about compositional practice and how
that relates to analysis and interpretation. A sixteen-year-old chorister may know nothing
of the evolution of church modes into tonal counterpoint, but may quickly acquire the
curiosity and vocabulary to describe the architecture and voicing of a William Byrd motet,
and the resultant aesthetic affect of his profound compositional practice.
In this light, it is intriguing to witness the emergence of the new, expanded iteration of
the National Standards (NAfME, 2014), which are not only delineated by five subheadings
(General Music, Composition/Theory, Music Technology, Guitar/Keyboard, Harmonizing
instruments, and Ensembles), but the nine original standards have been reorganized and
expanded under the nomenclature of “Essential Questions” such as “How do musicians
generate creative ideas?” Or “How do musicians improve the quality of their creative
work.”2 The now antiquated headers of “Improvisation” and “Composition” have been
woven into a complex matrix that appears to replicate what highly effective choral
directors have been doing all along—requiring the singers to move beyond rote learning
while meeting specific task-oriented criteria as put forth by the conductor. Alternatively,
the engaging rehearsal requires a commitment to (p. 54) kinesthetic involvement (Stand
up, breathe, and sing!) and cognitive investment (creating an environment where
students are required to reconcile the marriage of music and text in an effort to grasp the
lingual nuance of the composer)—all the while succumbing to an elevated aesthetic
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experience (practice and thoughtful investigation learning to the desired outcome:

feeling).
Perhaps this is the foundation of criteria stated near the bottom of the NAfME Standards
rubric suggesting a level of mastery, which states, “[The performer will] demonstrate an
understanding and master of the technical demands and expressive qualities of the music
through prepared and improvised performance of a varied repertoire representing
diverse cultures, styles, genres and historical periods in multiple types of
ensembles” (NAfME, 2014). Is this not an appropriate learning goal that should appear at
the top of every lesson plan?
Over time, I have come to refer to this process—approaching the rehearsal as an

opportunity to instill a sense of investigative curiosity in my students—as “reverse
engineering.” First conceived as a way to teach score analysis to graduate students, I
have found that adopting a similar approach with lesser-experienced adolescent singers
to be equally effective—if not even more so.
At first one may not immediately recognize the subtleties that transform a typical
sequence of rehearsal activities into an exercise of reverse engineering, as that
represents more of an ideology or ethos than simply a bag of tricks. And in fact,
conceptually it is quite simple, defined by a two-part process: The conductor presents the
music at hand in a way that allows the singers to immediately recognize the profundity of
a composer’s work as an interpretive artist. This requires that the singers’ first
experience with the piece is meaningful and relevant, and thus it is necessary for the
conductor to find a way to present the most compelling elements of the composition
within the first fifteen minutes of rehearsal. Sing a recurring melodic pattern first taught
in the warmups. Sight-read a simple chordal section of the work that is especially
illustrative of the text. Speak the text in rhythm of a fugal section while the piano plays
the parts so the singers can hear the unfolding chord structure in a participatory way.
There are hundreds of examples, but the point is that the first experience with a new
composition must be directed toward fostering curiosity and desire amongst the singers
to come back for more.
Sandra Snow (2011) does well to capture the essence of this process with her thoughts on
improvisation in the choral rehearsal:
Making an explicit focus on the conductor-teacher as facilitator of student

learning, conductor-teachers shift responsibility to the ensemble member for
understanding of the score.
Shifting the role of the conductor-teacher to that of active facilitator does not
imply that singers are fully responsible for decisions regarding music. After all,
the conductor-teacher is the one with the background and experience, and who
has studied the music closely. Neither does facilitating mean reorienting the
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experience to the verbal domain; that is, to talk about the music incessantly rather
than experience it directly. (p. 55)
Facilitating instead involves an ongoing commitment to guiding singers to musical

understanding by stimulating musical thinking, reflecting actively on musical
actions, and providing meaningful ways for singers to experience musical ideas.
(p. 55)
This, in fact, is the departure point for the reverse engineering process, as one plans
subsequent rehearsals with careful attention to the detail of the architecture and
structure of the piece. Decisions as where to begin, how long to drill, which pairings of
voices to rehearse, whether to begin with rhythm or pitch, and so on, are all critical not
only for the pacing of rehearsal, but for pulling the singers deeper into a cognitive
relationship with a work that is becoming increasingly meaningful to them on an
aesthetic level.
Written Interaction With the Choral Ensemble

It is at this point that I start writing to the choir, and ask them in turn to write to me. A
simple gesture, but one that never fails to elicit a layman’s analysis—albeit, at first,
frequently misinformed or unwieldy—from the singers, while allowing the conductor to
adapt subsequent rehearsal procedures on the basis of one-on-one communication with
each singer.
There are many fine models of this tradition, perhaps the most highly celebrated being
that of Robert Shaw with his collection of letters that spanned the entirety of his career,
most of which began with the peculiar, but congenial salutation, “Dear People” (Blocker,
2004).
For those unfamiliar with these literary gems, they are a source of inspiration to the
conductor of any choir, as many an epistle dealt with matters of the incredibly mundane
and perfunctory:
In the last three weeks I’ve been reminded of the importance of the time-
consuming nonmusical mechanics of building and maintaining a chorus. Chief
case in point would be the business of increasing membership, and the operation
is as far removed from the golden glow of art as one could get. (p. 6)
We will give always proportionate (that is, rhythmic) time value to the various
portions of speech sound that make up a word. That is to say hummed consonants
and the final vowel sounds in diphthongs will always have an actual rhythmic
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allotment, varying up to ½ of the full time value, and depending upon tempo and
style. (p. 14)
To the Julliard Chorus:
The problem of discipline in a school situation is a thoroughly confusing one.

Somehow, both professional and completely amateur regimens are easier to
handle. (p. 56) The professional’s pay stops, and the amateur simply drops out.
But a school is more complex. One contracts to take certain courses, and if they
are ensemble courses with performance as their objective, then attendance must
be counted one of the contractual obligations … And it seems reasonable to me
that those who break that contract-of-sorts should not expect the benefits of credit
and/or performance. If that is unfair, I’d like to know it. (p. 9)
But many of his letters were much more substantive and introspective, as he took the
time (that he never had in rehearsal) to give the singers a glimpse of insight into the
conductor’s process. More often than not, these musings found their way into matters of
philosophy, religion, and the incessant waves of change that were slowly eating away at
the time-honored reverence for tradition, for culture, for art:
Regarding Mendelssohn’s Elijah
Mendelssohn’s audience was not a congregation of believers in a house of

worship, but paying customers, very probably, of a minority upper economic class.
His “chorales” were not, then, impulsive and commonly bonded responses to a
religious drama, but further sermonettes and homilies delivered by angelic mini-
hosts of angels in very proper Victorian measures and nuances.—at their worst a
sort of Hallmark get-well card. (p. 305)
Regarding Verdi’s Ave Maria
It seems to me that there are three major performance problems: the first and
most obvious is that of keeping the performance “in tune”: staying on a C major
base of C = 523.3 while accommodating the constant switching of harmonic
polarities occasioned by the affluence of accidentals (something like 135 on the
first two pages). For singers, A-sharp simply is not B-flat; and in theory, at least, if
we sang the wrong sequence of the “just” intervals versus “tempered” (keyboard)
intervals, we could stray so far from C major—and from each other—that we’d
never find our way home. (p. 330)
What are the meanings of art? What is it trying to tell us of man? What is man
trying to tell us of himself? … what may be the function of influence of art in a
world gone schizophrenic, paranoid, masochistic? (p. 357)
By nearly any account, Shaw’s disposition on the podium was more closely aligned with
the old school conductors cited at the front of this chapter, but similarly, his “force
majeure” was most certainly motivated by his deep musical convictions, and his
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unrelenting desire to share his aural perceptions with the other musicians in each
musical endeavor. When his demeanor on the podium was brash, the corresponding letter
was often swimming in humility. When his rehearsal directives seemed unattainable, his
rehearsal notes frequently celebrated a tone of compassion and empathy. Many in my
generation have found inspiration in these letters as we do our best to find a source of
wisdom and the requisite vocabulary to express our innermost thoughts about music,
meaning, and mortality.
I have written to my choir since I first began teaching high school, and have rarely, if
ever, regretted the investment of time required to commit my musical and philosophical
ideals to paper. Where my own writing may be lacking in the theological or (p. 57)
philosophical depth of Mr. Shaw, I have found my students particularly responsive to
corollaries drawn between “the great composers” and modern icons who garner
admiration and praise in the Arts and Entertainment pages of the New York Times. For
that, I am deeply indebted to my own children, who have been patient enough to say,
“Dad, you gotta hear this. This is really profound!” From this, I learned that while
profundity may be in the ears of the beholder, finding common denominators between
Madonna and Mozart is not as difficult as one might imagine.
What I don’t recall is when I first asked my choir to write to me. It may well have been
inspired by a professor in graduate school named Michael Rogers who once stated that
the essence of helping students understand theory has not so much to do with revelatory
discourse, but more about asking the right questions. Thought-provoking questions that
cannot be dissuaded or deflected with a simple yes or no answer. When asked what
constitutes a “good question,” he merely replied, “It’s always a work in progress—you
keep refining and rephrasing until you begin to elicit thoughtful responses and
substantive remarks.”
And so I started asking my singers questions; my college singers, my community singers,

the participants of rigorously auditioned all-state choirs, and the members of less
confident groups of seventh- and eighth-graders participating in a community music
festival. It turns out, that while the vocabulary may vary, nearly everyone has something
to say about how music is meaningful, and why. And in the rare instances when that does
not occur, that in itself provides insight regarding one’s teaching effectiveness—a cue to
consider a different approach in subsequent rehearsal.
In accordance with the simple wisdom of Michael Rogers, the most difficult part of the
equation is asking the right question, particularly as the conductor comes to develop a
relationship of trust with the singers. If the engagement is of a limited timespan, such as
an honor or festival choir, I have found inquiries of a general nature to be sufficient, such
as “Now that you’ve sung through all the music once, and we have identified that it is the
composer’s job to portray a musical interpretation of the text, which composer did the
best job in getting it right? Cite examples in the score where it’s clear the composer had
a deep affinity for the text.”
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Or after a few guided discussions about compositional and stylistic elements, I might ask,
“Choose a piece in your folder where you can readily identify an element or device that
defines the composer’s character and style.” This is a particularly interesting question if
you program pieces on a similar theme, but from different eras or by different composers;
an excellent opportunity to ask the students to compare and contrast.
To be certain, there are many teachers who are exceptionally skilled at asking great
questions and facilitating in depth discussions within the course of the rehearsal, but
what is critical here is the written response. A verbal discussion not only tends to draw on
responses from the more outspoken or extroverted participants, but even then, they are
likely to be guarded when sharing their opinions amidst their peers. But when they write,
they have the freedom to speak with more candor and introspection.
The guiding principle for this exercise is a simple, but an important mantra that frames
the entire rehearsal experience. “You never know when somebody around you is having a
musical experience.” This, in fact, represents the very essence of elevated (p. 58)
ensemble singing. When a large percentage of the members of the ensemble come to
realize that the efforts of each singer contributes to someone else’s evolving relationship
with the choral art, each rehearsal activity shifts away from serving one’s own needs to
consideration for the livelihood of the entire ensemble.
Once the singers have committed their observations, reactions, and inspirations to paper,
it is imperative that the conductor read every comment, and that this becomes
immediately evident to the singers, ideally in the subsequent rehearsal. While there will
undoubtedly be a great deal of repetition, and in many cases, the singers may simply be
paraphrasing something that was said during rehearsal, even the paraphrase may shed
an insight given that each person comes to the study of art with an individual perspective
on life, religion, culture, poetry, and all things philosophical. But equally important is how
these insights and reflections are shared.
For example, after combing through the responses from the previous rehearsal, the
conductor might have highlighted a dozen particularly unique or otherwise distinctive
responses to a question about Brahms’ O Schöne Nacht. Having identified the composer’s
celebrated tendency of placing the piano and the choir in rhythmic opposition to one
another, an appropriate prompt might be, “How has the composer employed the piano to
help the singers understand his sentiments related to the poignancy in the text? The
words alone suggest a simple love story, but the piano provides additional information.
What, how, and why?”
A few typical responses from high school singers:3
The piano almost never lines up with the singers, creating a sense of opposition or
argument between the two.
Page 13 of 20

As the piano rolls through the opening measures, I can hear longing in the simple
hanging chords.
Even though I don’t speak German, I can tell from the piano part when the boy
starts running toward the girl.
I love Brahms because even when we’re in ¾ time, there are many times when I
can’t tell what meter we’re in unless I’m looking at the music.
There’s something about the way Brahms uses harmony—I can never quite tell if
the song is happy or sad. Maybe it’s just melancholy!
Over time, the singers come to learn that they can even challenge the assumptions or
assertions of the conductor:
I think the music gets too crazy when we speed up in the middle. I’m a pianist,
and I want to hear every detail in the piano part, but I get lost when the tempo is
too fast.
Or maybe even this:
Actually, I don’t really care for the Brahms. I like it better than when we started,
but I think the music get’s sort of cheesy when the girls are singing about the
birds.
At the beginning of the next rehearsal, without saying a word, I simply pull out a
(p. 59)
stack of papers with highlighted excerpts representing a variety of opinionated

responses; the greater the diversity of the sampling the better, even if they are in
complete opposition to my own interpretation of the music. All remarks are made without
personal attribution, and if two participants have stated opposing opinions of the same
musical element, it’s best to read those back to back. In an honor choir setting, there may
be two or three hundred responses to choose from and there will only be time to read ten
or twelve excerpts in any give rehearsal session, but it quickly becomes evident to the
singers that the conductor has read every response and has given consideration to every
opinion. To that end, there have been many instances when I have altered an
interpretation or realized a nuance in the score that I had missed before noting what a
sixteen-year-old tenor has found clearly notated on the page.
Another variation on this exercise is to compile a bulleted list of response excerpts to be

distributed by email or shared on a message board, but again, the responses are
anonymous and seemingly random in an effort to present varied perspectives and
ideologies. But in the end, the value to the conductor (and thus, to the singers) is two-
fold; gathering tangible evidence as to what degree the singers understand the musical
experience in progress, and of even greater importance, providing the opportunity for
students to hear what their peers are thinking, reinforcing the mantra once more—“You
never know when somebody around you is having a musical experience.”
Page 14 of 20

As a sense of community and mutual trust develops over the course of time, I have found
that members of the choir are willing not only to speak in a voice that reveals their
personal ideologies and perspectives, but once realizing that their “voices have been
heard,” they are willing to take more risks in the reverse engineering process. Of course,
this requires a reciprocal effort on the part of the conductor, who leads by example in the
depths of his writings to the choir and the aforementioned mode of rehearsal organization
that lead the singers to musical discovery. At the same time, the effort to compose
increasingly challenging questions—as related to specific repertoire—that will encourage
thoughtful responses is absolutely paramount. Questions for an advanced ensemble that
meets over an extended period of time might look like this:
On Poulenc’s Chansons françaises:
These pieces of a folk-song nature are among the most lighthearted of anything
Poulenc has composed, and yet they were conceived at the end of World War II at
a time when much of France lay in destruction and despair. (Some of you may
remember Un soir de niege, a composition of a very different character, but
published the same year.) What might have been Poulenc’s intent in creating these
settings? Can you think of other composers who have created works that seem to
contradict the era or culture in which they lived? Can you think of a composer/
artist who is doing that now?
(p. 60) On Bruckner’s Os Justi:
This year we have sung both Brahms and Bruckner. Brahms had an affinity for
vocal chamber music with voice accompanied by piano, while Bruckner found
much of his identity in his role as a church organist. Can you find evidence of this
in his Os Justi? Be specific in identifying compositional devices that suggest the
composer was an organist.
On Whitacre’s Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine:
We’ve talked a bit about how Whitacre has “quoted” Monteverdi in his
compositional style of this piece. Identify a few places that you think the work
sounds like Monteverdi, and a few others that are quintessential Whitacre. For a
bonus point, explain why the composer would use this stylistic approach with this
particular text.
It bears revisiting Rogers’s caveat that the only way to develop the skill of asking
thought-provoking questions is the pursuit through trial and error. And since repertoire
changes from one season to the next, one has few opportunities to recycle good
questions, particularly when it involves the elements of compare and contrast. But the
intent remains constant in the charge to the singers to grapple with elements of score
study in a communal way. Not only will this reveal one’s musical experience, but
additionally, this invites the singer to develop a personal relationship with the score and
Page 15 of 20

the words that inspired it. The ability to identify compositional process as a mode of
interpretation gives the singer the opportunity to consider the artwork within a broader
literary context.
In many instances, participants in these exercises have begun their statements with a
disclaimer such as, “I don’t consider myself a religious person, but …”, only to go on to
present some astounding revelation about the composer’s ability to create a work that
reflects the depths of the composer’s faith. Or even more interesting is when we study a
work on a sacred text composed by a confirmed atheist or agnostic, yet the composition is
highly effective in communicating the implicit and explicit elements of that text. Such
situations allow us to objectify the compositional process to some degree, which in turn,
gives the singer the freedom to arrive at a unique and personal interpretation of his or
her own. In other words, the singer is given the freedom of developing a relationship with
a text that may, in fact, be in opposition with his own personal philosophical or religious
values. We are studying the art—with an awareness of the underlying ethos, but devoid of
personal indoctrination.
Clearly, by the end of the process, the ensemble will need to agree on matters of tempo,
articulation, text inflection, and the corresponding elements of ensemble performance.
But in the end, these are mere surface details as compared to the process of reverse
engineering the score in an effort to help the singer develop a personal relationship with
the music, keeping in mind that the conductor now has the added benefit of an entire
team of investigative researchers who are scouring the score in the pursuit of revealing
the composer’s intent. I can scarcely think of a time when I have not experienced a new
(p. 61) revelation with a composition that was spawned by a singer’s momentary insight.
Even the seasoned musician has much to learn from youthful eyes and a fresh
perspective.
The A Cappella Phenomenon: The Train Is

Leaving, Without the Conductor!
When I first assumed my current post at The University of Delaware in 1997, I stumbled
into an unanticipated hurdle in time-honored recruitment procedures. It seemed that
students, especially non-music-major students, were reluctant to commit to the week
regimen of curricular mandated rehearsals until they had the results from the audition
“that really mattered”—the coveted honor of being invited to participate in an a cappella
group.
At the time, I was vaguely familiar with the a cappella tradition, in particular, that of the
legendary groups from the eastern Ivy League schools like Yale and Princeton, but I had
no idea that the tradition had become such a phenomenon. As registered student
Page 16 of 20

organizations within the university community, these groups held a status similar to that
of a fraternity, and appropriately so, as their mission was as often as not one of social
interaction, superseding the musical or artistic agenda.
It seems hardly a coincidence that this was the era when MySpace and Facebook were
becoming the main conduit of communication which, in time, would result in
unprecedented opportunities like-minded musicians to find one another from coast to
coast. It was in this environs that the Contemporary A Cappella Society of America
(CASA) was born:
Deke Sharon is commonly referred to as the father of contemporary a cappella,

and while he may have bestowed that title upon himself, the name rings true. In
1990, Deke started the Contemporary A Cappella Society of America (CASA) out
of his dorm room at Tufts. The organization’s mission was (in part) to foster
communication between all of the disparate a cappella groups popping up across
the country.
In the mid-nineties, collegiate a cappella exploded from an Ivy League curiosity to

a full-blown coed pursuit. “We went from two hundred and fifty groups to more
than twelve hundred and fifty.” Deke says. He credits the growth spurt to a
number of factors, from Boyz II Men to the Internet.
(Rapkin, 2008, p. 79)
By 1996, the predecessor of the International Championship of Collegiate A Cappella

(ICCA) contest had formed, which now functions as the Superbowl of college vocal
groups, including several “playoff” rounds that lead to the final competition in Lincoln
Center in New York City. Intended or otherwise, the consequence of this has been
evidenced in a renewed purpose amidst these traditionally fraternal organizations.
Motivated by the allure of becoming grand national champions, social interaction and
simplistic arrangements have given way to disciplined and rigorous rehearsals and vocal
arrangements that are frequently as complicated as vocal jazz.
In the context of pedagogy, and particularly in regard to fostering an environment

(p. 62)
where the participants assume full ownership of the process, the a cappella phenomenon
has had a tremendous impact on the expectations singers bring into the rehearsal room.
Joshua Duchan’s (2012) efforts have resulted in a landmark scholarly publication that
chronicles the evolution of a cappella while working to identify commonalities in
pedagogical process, such as that documented below:
Unlike a traditional Western choir, in which all the singers follow the direction of
the conductor, the Fallen Angels [an a cappella group at Brandeis University,]
rehearsal shows how collegiate a cappella groups distribute power more broadly.
They more closely resemble an adolescent rock band model, in that important
Page 17 of 20

musical aspects are self-taught and the learning process is a peer-based

experience. (p. 97)
One could argue that the a cappella and “serious music” populations on our college and
high schools campus are not one and the same. The most serious music schools and
conservatories often have strict policies that forbid “serious music students” from
participating in student-led ensembles, but in other instances, the entire musical
reputation of an educational institution may have more renown from its a cappella culture
that the curricular choral program. In any event, conductors and teachers will need to
reconcile these heightened expectations for student engagement, as well as a culture that
encourages students to compose, arrange, improvise, and imagine! As has been said
many times regarding repertoire, we must make sure that the music making in our
rehearsal room meets or surpasses what is happening in our singers’ everyday lives.
Conclusion
At this time when the very mores of our public schools and higher education institutions
are under unprecedentedly intense scrutiny in this age of assessment and economic
challenge, there is little doubt that traditional paradigms in music education will be
questioned as well. Is our work meaningful? Relevant? Integral to the total education of
the human being?
In this environment, the only constant is change, which will require future choral
pedagogues to give careful consideration to the most meaningful aspects of choral
artistry, and in particular, how we will empower our singers with the gift of musical
curiosity.
References
Abrahams, F. (2011). Teaching and learning music through performance in middle school
choir. In F. Abrahams & Paul D. Head (Eds.), Teaching music through performance in
middle school choir (pp. 5–21). Chicago, IL: GIA.
Blocker, R. (Ed). (2004). The Robert Shaw reader. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Boers, G. (1998). “This is not your father’s automobile.” Choral Journal, 38(10), 73–74.
Dewey, J. (2005). Democracy and education. New York: Barnes & Noble Books. (Original
work published 1916.)
Duchan, J. (2012). Powerful voices: The musical and social world of collegiate a cappella.
Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press.
Page 18 of 20

Glenn, C. (Ed). (1991). In quest of answers: Interviews with American choral conductors.
Chapel Hill, NC: Hinshaw Music.
Head, P. (2008). The Search for Healthy and Appropriate Repertoire: Three Perspectives.
In Michele Holt & James Mark Jordan (Eds.), The school choral program: Philosophy,
planning, organizing, and teaching (pp. 133–146). Chicago, IL: GIA.
Head, P. (2011). Hearing between the lines: Promoting choral artistry in rehearsal and
performance. In Frank Abrahams (Ed.), Teaching music through performance in middle
school choir (pp. 29–37). Chicago, IL: GIA.
Jordan, J. (2007). Evoking sound—the choral rehearsal: Techniques and procedures.

Chicago, IL: GIA.
Jordan. J. (2009). Evoking sound: Fundamentals of choral conducting (2nd ed.). Chicago,
IL: GIA.
Music Educators National Conference. (1994). National standards for arts education.
Reston, VA: Music Educators National Conference.
National Association for Music Education. (2014). National core music standards.
Retrieved from http://www.nafme.org/my-classroom/standards/core-music-
standards/
Rapkin, M. (2008). Pitch perfect: The quest for collegiate a cappella glory. New York, NY:
Gotham.
Robinson, R. & Winold, A. (1992). The choral experience: Literature, materials, and
methods. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland. (Originally published Harper & Row, 1974).
Rogers, M. (1984). Teaching approaches in music theory: An overview of pedagogical

philosophies. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.
Snow, S. (2011). Brainstorming for improvisation: Developing imaginative teaching

strategies in the choral rehearsal. In Heather Buchanan, et al. (Eds.), Teaching music
through performance in choir: Vol. 3. Chicago, IL: GIA. (p. 64)
Notes:
(1.) Quotations from Ormandy and Toscanini: www.searchquote.com
(2.) See http://www.nafme.org/my-classroom/standards/.
(3.) Summarized and collected from conducting this exercise with all-state and honor
choirs.
Page 19 of 20

Paul D. Head
University of Delaware
Page 20 of 20

Oxford Handbooks Online: The Choral Experience: Turned Inside Out

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The Choral Experience: Turned Inside Out

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Print Publication Date: Apr 2017 Subject: Music, Music Education

Abstract and Keywords

TO this day, I have vivid recollections of my undergraduate conducting professor leading

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Why do you always insist on playing when I’m trying to conduct?

I don’t mean to make you nervous, but unfortunately, I have to.

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

community—musical or otherwise; some specific strategies for encouraging musical

The Historical Role of the Conductor

As the leader of a communicative-education experience, the choral conductor

A decade-and-a-half later, a landmark publication entitled In Quest of Answers: Interviews

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Margaret Hillis (Glenn, 1991, p. 110)

Robert Shaw (Glenn, 1991, p. 118)

Probably of equal importance to musicianship is leadership ability. An effective

Dale Warland (Glenn, 1991, p. 120)

Weston Noble (Glenn, 1991, p. 115)

The conductor should have musicianship, intelligence, a passion to communicate

Joseph Flummerfelt (Glenn, 1991, p. 109)

It is important that a choral conductor be an outgoing person a person who cares

Lloyd Pfautsch (Glenn, 1991, p. 117)

Now, nearly a quarter-century later, it would be interesting to recreate this exercise in an

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Perhaps no area of my personal conducting pedagogy has grown as much as my

(Jordan, 2009, xxx)

(Boers, 1998, p. 74)

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

As so well identified by the aforementioned authors, there is an increasing

While perhaps an unintended consequence, this eclectic approach to programming

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Creating an Environment That Fosters Student

(Dewey, 1916, p. 154)

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

I agreed with my peers that teaching a classroom of seventy-five ninth graders to

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

experience (practice and thoughtful investigation learning to the desired outcome:

Over time, I have come to refer to this process—approaching the rehearsal as an

Making an explicit focus on the conductor-teacher as facilitator of student

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Facilitating instead involves an ongoing commitment to guiding singers to musical

Written Interaction With the Choral Ensemble

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

To the Julliard Chorus:

The problem of discipline in a school situation is a thoroughly confusing one.

Regarding Mendelssohn’s Elijah

Mendelssohn’s audience was not a congregation of believers in a house of

Regarding Verdi’s Ave Maria

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

And so I started asking my singers questions; my college singers, my community singers,

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

A few typical responses from high school singers:3

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

Or maybe even this:

stack of papers with highlighted excerpts representing a variety of opinionated

Another variation on this exercise is to compile a bulleted list of response excerpts to be

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

On Poulenc’s Chansons françaises:

(p. 60) On Bruckner’s Os Justi:

On Whitacre’s Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine:

Subscriber: University College London; date: 05 June 2018

The A Cappella Phenomenon: The Train Is