The Routledge Companion to

Creativities in Music Education

Viewing the plurality of creativity in music as being of paramount importance to the field
of music education, The Routledge Companion to Creativities in Music Education provides a
wide-ranging survey of research and research to practice perspectives.
Bringing together philosophical and applied foundations, this volume draws together an
array of international contributors, including leading and emerging scholars, to illuminate
the multiple forms creativity can take in the music classroom, and how new insights from
research can inform pedagogical approaches.
In over 50 chapters, it addresses theory, practice, research, change initiatives, community,
and broadening perspectives. A vital resource for music education researchers, practitioners,
and students, this volume helps advance the discourse on creativities in music education.

Clint Randles is Associate Professor of Music Education at the University of South Florida
School of Music, where he teaches and conducts research on contemporary musicianship,
music production, recording arts, songwriting, and creativity conceptions.

Pamela Burnard is Professor of Arts, Creativities and Educations at the Faculty of Edu-
cation, University of Cambridge. She is an international expert in creativities research and
practice.
Routledge Music Companions

Routledge Music Companions offer thorough, high-quality surveys and assessments of major
topics in the study of music. All entries in each companion are specially commissioned and
written by leading scholars in the field. Clear, accessible, and cutting-edge, these com-
panions are the ideal resource for advanced undergraduates, postgraduate students, and
researchers alike.

The Routledge Companion to Popular Music Analysis: Expanding Approaches

Edited by Ciro Scotto, Kenneth Smith, and John Brackett

The Routledge Companion to the Study of Local Musicking

Edited by Suzel A. Reily and Katherine Brucher

The Routledge Companion to Music Cognition

Edited by Richard Ashley and Renee Timmers

The Routledge Companion to Screen Music and Sound

Edited by Miguel Mera, Ronald Sadoff, and Ben Winters

The Routledge Companion to Embodied Music Interaction

Edited by Micheline Lesaffre, Pieter-Jan Maes, and Marc Leman

The Routledge Companion to Music, Technology, and Education

Edited by Andrew King, Evangelos Himonides, and S. Alex Ruthmann

The Routledge Companion to Sounding Art

Edited by Marcel Cobussen, Vincent Meelberg, and Barry Truax

The Routledge Companion to Music and Visual Culture

Edited by Tim Shephard and Anne Leonard

The Routledge Companion to Music and Modern Literature

Edited by Rachael Durkin, Peter Dayan, Axel Englund, Katharina Clausius

The Routledge Companion to Ethics and Research in Ethnomusicology

Edited by Jonathan P.J. Stock and Beverley Diamond

The Routledge Companion to Creativities in Music Education

Edited by Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
The Routledge Companion to
Creativities in Music Education

Edited by
Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
Cover image: © Trisha McCrae
First published 2023
by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
and by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2023 selection and editorial matter, Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard; individual
chapters, the contributors
The right of Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard to be identified as the authors of the
editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in
accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any
form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented,
including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,
and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

ISBN: 978-1-032-16361-1 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-032-16362-8 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-24819-4 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194
Typeset in Bembo
by codeMantra
 For the music education experiences that
follow and the researchers who decide to ask questions about them.
Think outside this book and author plurally.
Contents

List of figures xii

List of tables xiv
List of contributors xv
Acknowledgments xxvii
Preface xxviii

PART 1
Theory and Theorizing: Generating Good Vibrations 1

1 Tuning Up: Creativities Illuminate Our Discourse 3

C L I N T R A N D L E S A N D PA M E L A B U R N A R D

2 On Creativities and Traditions: A Confucian Perspective with Insights

for Music Education 13
L E O N A R D TA N A N D M E N G C H E N L U

3 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”: Artivism for Music Teaching and

Learning 22
M A R I S S A S I LV E R M A N

4 Interpretation and Listening in the Domain of Music and Sound

Creativities 33
R E BECCA R INSEM A

5 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum 45

V I C T O R I A K I N S E L L A A N D M A RT I N FAU T L E Y

6 Playing with Freedom: A Reimagining of Play and Imagination in

Vocal Music Education 61
KEXIN XU

7 Information Literacy as a Factor for Musical Creativity Enhancement:

Challenges and Prospects for Music Education 71
C H A R I L AO S L AV R A N O S A N D C H A R L E S PAT T E R S O N
viii Contents
8 Multiple Creativities as a Natural Progression of the Origins of the
Universe: A Justification for Music Education from Spirituality 80
CLIN T R A N DLES

PART 2
Foundational Creativities: Early Childhood Musics 91

9 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist: Weaving the Web of Inclusive

Praxis in Early Childhood and Elementary Music 93
K A R E N S A LVA D O R A N D E R I K A J . K N A P P

10 Video Clubs as Catalysts for Developing Music Educators’ Creative

Music Making Practices 106
DON NA GA LLO

11 Where Does That Go? Responding to Disruption in Higher Education

through Technology and Creativities amidst the COVID-19 Pandemic 117
M A L AC H I A P U D O - AC H O L A

PART 3
New Possibilities for New Creativities: Inspiring/Catalyzing
Curriculum Change 133

12 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies: Hip-Hop,

Creativity, and Affirming the Voices of Students of Color 135
J U DY L E W I S

13 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process 149

A DA M PAT R I C K B E L L , J UA N C AC H O, A N D I S M A I L O K A S H A

14 Beyond ‘Careers’: Composing Musical Lives through Metamusical

Creativity 163
L L OY D M C A RT O N

15 Teaching and Learning Creativity as Content:

A Tool-Dependent Process 175
N I K L A S RU D B ÄC K A N D C E C I L I A WA L L E R S T E D T

16 Music Educators’ Perspectives on Songwriting 185

L AU R E N RYA L S

17 Songwriting Class as a Place for Healing 191

J O H N K R AT U S
 Contents  ix
18 Group Creativities: Mapping the Creative Process of Mobile
Music Creation 198
J A S O N C H I WA I C H E N

19 Children’s Traditional Playground Musicking, Creativity, and

Media Culture 206
M A RT I N A VA S I L

20 The DAW Revolution 217

M AT T H E W C L AU H S A N D B R I A N D OZ O R E T Z

21 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity: Examining

Compositional Processes in a GarageBand Activity Based on Group
Assignment 228
SA MU EL HOLM ES

22 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres:

Insights for Mainstream Music Curricula 241
PA M E L A B U R N A R D, P E T E DA L E , S I M O N G L E N I S T E R , J I M R E I S S ,
R A P H A E L   T R AV I S , E L L I O T G A N N A N D A L I N K A G R E A S L E Y

PART 4
Playing the Changes: Attuning to Diverse Creativities
in Practice 261

23 The Pendulum Swings Tired: Dewey’s Passivity, Activity, and

Creativity in a Progressive Secondary Music Classroom 263
BR A D F U LLER A N D JA M ES H UM BERSTON E

24 The Transformation of the Kenyan Higher Music Education Space 278

E M I LY AC H I E N G ’ A K U N O

25 Creating Spaces for Songwriters, Collaborators, and Musicians in

Higher Education 288
J O N AT H A N K L A D D E R A N D R A D I O C R E M ATA

26 Activist Pluralism as Intercultural Creativity in Conservatory

Education 299
JA M ES H UM BERSTON E A N D CA IT LIN SA N DIFOR D

27 A Case for Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model in the Large

Ensemble Music Classroom to Open the Door for Diverse Creativities 315
L AU R E N YAC H T
x Contents
PART 5
Creativities Authored with/in the Wider Community 327

28 Online Music Learning: Which Creativities Matter? 329

M ICH EL E BI A SU T TI

29 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams: The Creativities of an Online

Music Community during a Global Health Crisis 341
E M M E T T O ’ L E A RY

30 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities in

Higher Education: Contesting Authority, Exploring Creativities,
Stimulating Dialogue 352
C H R I S AT T O N , M AT T H E W C OWA N , H A R RY D O C H E RT Y, K A E L I N FA R N I S H ,
Z AC K M O I R , A N D E UA N PAT T I E

31 Collaborative Compositional Creativity: Composers’ Perspectives on

Student and Teacher Input 363
T E S S A N D R A W E N DZ I C H A N D B E R N A R D W. A N D R E W S

32 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”: A Small Step Towards

Future Readiness 376
E D DY C H O N G

33 Creativities in Music and Creativities through Music: Symbiotic

Weaknesses in Greek-Cypriot Primary Education 389
S TAV RO S M A K R I S , G R A H A M W E L C H A N D E VA N G E L O S H I M O N I D E S

34 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education 404

K A R IN H EN DR ICK S

35 #creativityeveryday – Instagram as a Creative Tool 416

H I M A S H A G U N A S E K A R A , C H E RY L B ROW N , A N D S T UA RT W I S E

PART 6
Re-Thinking, Re-Searching, Re-Visioning Creativities in Performance 427

36 Making Silence Matter: Rethinking Performance Creativity as a

Catalysing Space for Sounding Oneself in Music Education 429
PA M E L A B U R N A R D A N D N I C K S O R E N S E N

37 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities:

Harmonic Walk and Live Patching 441
DA M I Á N K E L L E R , M A RC E L L A M A N DA N I C I A N D M A RC E L L O M E S S I N A

38 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action 457

DY L A N VA N D E R S C H Y F F
 Contents  xi
39 Gratitude during Times of Uncertainty: Connections to Creativities
in Music Education 473
CH R ISTI A N BER NH A R D

40 Musical Creativities, Spirituality, and Playing Drum Kit in Black

Light Bastards 480
G A R E T H DY L A N S M I T H

41 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice 492

T H O M A S M O O R S A N D E VA N G E L O S H I M O N I D E S

42 In Between Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity:

Group Improvisation in Secondary School 505
C A R L O S L AG E - G Ó M E Z A N D RO B E RT O C R E M A D E S - A N D R E U

43 Understanding the Terrain in Creativities Research: Mapping an

International Symposium in Music Education 517
A S H E R C A R L S O N , J A Z M I N G H E N T, B R I A N PA N E T TA , C H A R L E S PAT T E R S O N ,
A N D CLIN T R A N DLES

PART 7
Widening Perspectives: New Departures and New Positionings 525

44 Instrumental Music Education: Intra-action and Relationality for

Creative Pedagogies in the Instrumental/Vocal Music Studio 527
L E O N D E B RU I N

45 Project-Based Learning and Student’s Individual Creativity in Music

Teacher Education: Learning, Teaching, and Performing Popular
Music in Virtual Spaces 539
J O N AT H A N K L A D D E R

46 Students as the Educator: A Student-centric Model for Curriculum

Development 554
J O N AT H A N M C E L ROY

47 Creativity Development, Service-Learning, and Spirituality in Music

Education 568
A L E X A N D E R KO O P S

48 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education through Pluralism,

Openness and Authorship of New Creativities 581
PA M E L A B U R N A R D A N D C L I N T R A N D L E S

Index 593
Figures

1.1 Multiple and diverse creativities as seeds of change5

1.2 Person, Product, Process, Press, and Position5
4.1 Ecological model of musical creativity36
6.1 Conceptual model of play68
7.1 A conceptual information seeking behavior model for musical creativity
(Lavranos et al., 2015)72
9.1 Web with anchor domains95
9.2 Anchored web with activities and processes98
9.3 Three-dimensional model of inclusive praxis98
9.4 Children locating themselves on the 3D web99
11.1 Adopted from the Chinese experience in maintaining undisrupted
learning in COVID-19 outbreak (2020)123
15.1 Case examples180
18.1 Synthesized framework of mobile music creation202
19.1 Variations 1–3 of “Velocity” compared side by side208
20.1 Brief history of sound recording218
21.1 Mean percentage of compositional processes by group 235
22.1 Example of a post from within a noise solution feed 247
22.2 Screenshot of noise solution platform 248
23.1 Pendulum swings from old to new in education 266
24.1 CI Model of Creativity (Akuno, 2016) 279
24.2 Creating new music styles from cultural and introduced genres 279
24.3 Revised version of Blooms Taxonomy (Source: https://cft.vanderbilt.edu/
guides-sub-pages/blooms-taxonomy/ accessed on December 15th, 2021) 285
25.1 An overview of the assignment structure 292
25.2 Actual processes by which some students followed to create their own
original music 293
26.1 The cast and crew at the premiere of Odysseus: Live at the Sydney
Conservatorium of Music in June 2016.  Photograph by Sheshanka
Samarajiwa304
28.1 Screenshot of video data used for analysis333
35.1 Adopting Csikszentmihalyi’s system model of creativity 422
37.1 Spatial arrangement of the conceptual space featuring the two areas of
primary chords (below) and parallel chords (above)446
37.2 Harmonic Touch: the first experience focuses on the search for an
implicit harmony of a melodic excerpt – in this case Maurice Ravel’s
Bolero447
 Figures  xiii
37.3 The stage route of the second experience of Harmonic Touch deploying
four harmonic changes. The user’s performance is evaluated based on the
coincidence of the clicked changes with the harmonic changes of the
melody448
39.1 Children playing473
40.1 Black Light Bastards band logo486
41.1 Voice prosthesis493
41.2 Larynx494
41.3 Laryngectomy Stoma498
42.1 The didactic project from the Activity Theory perspective512
43.1 Conceptual mapping of the Suncoast Music Education Research
Symposium XIII518
44.1 REIR framework of pedagogy and intra-active dynamics531
45.1 A non-linear representation of an individual’s creative process adapted
from Sawyer (2012)540
45.2 An abbreviated example of student-created goals at the beginning of the
semester546
45.3 An example of projects that Adam worked on across the semester547
46.1 The cyclical overlap of the educator, class, and individual student
simultaneously facilitates and influences the different manifestations
of creativity during curriculum development. The solid arrows of the
student and classmates represent their engagement with the curriculum.
The dashed arrow of the educator represents the invited partnership
between the educator and students as they work alongside each other.
The process of student’s developed and implemented curriculum is
situated within the pluralistic notion of creativity. As a result, students’
holistic self is central to the curriculum in which they learn as it
intersects with the different manifestations of creativity557
46.2 The three emergent themes in the study’s findings illustrate the cyclical
overlap and notion of the pluralistic nature of creativity. This was
evident in the students’ reflections upon their educational experience in
creating and implementing a curriculum of their own design559
47.1 Model of the relationship of academic learning and spiritual learning577
48.1 Multiple and diverse creativities as seeds of change583
48.2 Creative ecologies (adapted from Harris, 2016)588
48.3 Co-authoring new creativities through innovative research-informed
practice588
Tables

11.1 Types of technologies us in different universities in Kenya during

COVID-19 pandemic124
14.1 Participants’ Primary Source(s) of Income at Time of Interview165
16.1 Participant Data186
21.1 Time Devoted to Observed Compositional Processes by Group
(minutes:seconds)233
31.1 Composition commentary365
31.2 Comparison of class grade and teacher/composer pairings over three years365
32.1 Some common attributes of digital musicians383
39.1 The Gratitude Questionnaire-Six Item Form (GQ-6) (McCullough,
Emmons, & Tsang, 2002)474
42.1 Activities in the project508
42.2 Descriptive statistics510
42.3 Spearman’s correlation coefficient analysis510
Contributors

Bernard W. Andrews is Professor Education at the University of Ottawa. He has several

years of experience teaching and administering music and arts programs in school and
post-secondary settings. He teaches music certification at the undergraduate level and
graduate courses in the arts and creativity. His research focuses on educational music, in-
teractive teaching strategies, arts partnerships, arts-based research methods, and teacher
development in the arts. His most recent books are Perspectives on Arts Education Research
in Canada, Vol. I: Surveying the Landscape. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill/Sense (2019)
and Perspectives on Arts Education Research Canada, Vol. II: Issues and Directions (2020). Lei-
den, The Netherlands: Brill/Sense.
Malachi Apudo-Achola  is a Cambridge Commonwealth Scholar. A Lecturer at the
Department of Music and Theatre Studies, Maseno University, Kenya, he holds Ph.D.
in Music Education and Technology from the Technical University of Kenya (TU-K)
in collaboration with University of Cambridge, UK and a Master of Music Education
(M.Mus.) and B. Education (Music) both from Kenyatta University, Kenya. He has pre-
viously been a lecturer at Kenyatta University, Kabarak, Kenya, teaching undergraduate
and postgraduate music and theater courses such as music education, music technology,
musicology, and African music, drumming, and dance choreography. He has published
books and academic articles in peer-reviewed journals and presented articles at interna-
tional conferences worldwide, including the United Kingdom, the United States, Can-
ada, Finland, the Netherlands, South Africa, Tanzania, and Uganda, and hosted many
workshops in Kenya. He has been mentored by Prof. Nick Cook, Prof. Burnard, Prof.
Emily Akuno, and Prof. Phil Kirkman at the University of Cambridge.
Chris Atton is Professor of Media and Culture at the School of Arts and Creative Indus-
tries in Edinburgh Napier University. His books include Alternative Media, Alternative
Journalism, and The Routledge Companion to Alternative and Community Media. His music
research focuses on specialist music journalism and has examined how critics and fans
write about progressive rock, free improvisation, modern jazz, and various forms of
experimental and avant-garde music. He has explored commercial magazines as well as
fanzines and internet fan sites. He has been an improvising musician for over 30 years
and a traditional English folk singer for longer.
Adam Patrick Bell is an Associate Professor of music education in the Don Wright Fac-
ulty of Music at Western University, Canada. He is the author of Dawn of the DAW: The
Studio As Musical Instrument (Oxford, 2018) and the editor of the Music Technology Cook-
book (Oxford, 2020). Adam listens to Tobi Sinclair and SMIO on repeat.
Christian Bernhard  is Professor of Music Education at SUNY Fredonia, where he
teaches undergraduate courses in instrumental music methods and rehearsal techniques,
xvi Contributors
as well as graduate courses in music education history, philosophy, and psychology. He
holds degrees from the Peabody Conservatory, University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill, and University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Dr. Bernhard’s research regard-
ing comprehensive musicianship and musicians’ mental health has been published in
peer-reviewed journals including College Music Symposium, Journal of Band Research, Jour-
nal of Music Teacher Education, and International Journal of Music Education. He is the author
of Managing Stress in Music Education, available through Routledge.
Michele Biasutti,  Ph.D., is a Full Professor at Padova University. Among his research
topics there are cognitive processes in composition and improvisation, online music
learning, and the education of music teachers. He is proposing an approach to music ed-
ucation based on the development of processes rather than products. He is past President
of Italian Associations and Scientific Director of research projects financed by European
Institutions. He is a member of the editorial board of impact factor journals. He was the
director of the international conferences, and the author of eight books and about 250
articles, chapters, and conference proceeding papers.
Pamela Burnard is Professor of Arts, Creativities and Educations at the Faculty of Educa-
tion, University of Cambridge (www.educ.cam.ac.uk/people/staff/Burnard/). She is an
international expert in creativities research and practice. She is an inter-/transdiscipli-
nary teacher-educator-artist-academic-researcher-consultant who has published widely
with 20 books and over 100 articles which advance the theory and practice of multiple
creativities across education sectors, including early years, primary, secondary, further
and higher education, through to creative and cultural industries. She is a co-editor of
the journal Thinking Skills and Creativity. Pamela’s most recently published books include
Doing Rebellious Research in and beyond the Academy and Why Science and Arts Creativities
Matter: (Re-)configuring STEAM for Future-Making Education (Brill-i-Sense) and Sculpt-
ing New Creativities (Routledge). Her current research council-funded projects include
“Choices, Chances and Transitions around Creative Further and Higher Education” and
a meta-analysis of the culminative impact of “Contemporary Urban Musics for Inclu-
sion Networks” (CUMIN). She is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (RSA) and the
Chartered College of Teaching, UK.
Juan Cacho,  also known as Tobi Sinclair, is an independent artist from Calgary. After
immigrating from the Philippines as a child and growing up in Canada, Juan obtained
his Bachelor of Music degree from the University of Calgary. Shortly after, he started his
career as an R&B artist and collaborator. Since then, he has released self-produced pro-
jects such as an EP, album, and several singles. This path has given him the opportunity
to start the music event organization SinclairSessions, aiming to promote local BIPOC
R&B/Hip-Hop artists from the Calgary area.
Jason Chi Wai Chen is currently an Assistant Professor at the Education University of
Hong Kong. His articles have been published by the top-ranked journals—International
Journal of Music Education, Research Studies in Music Education, Music Education Research,
Oxford Handbook of Music Technology and Education. He is the editorial board member of
the International Journal of Music Education (IJME) and appointed as the research commis-
sioner (2016–2022) of International Society of Music Education (ISME). He is a recipient
of the Dean’s Research Output Prize 2015–2016, the Dean’s Knowledge Transfer Prize
2018–2019, and the International Outstanding E-Learning Award 2017–2018.
Eddy Chong is currently the Associate Dean for Programme Planning and Management
at the National Institute of Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. In
 Contributors  xvii
the last two decades, he has gone beyond his doctoral work in Schenkerian analysis to
develop the teaching of music theory for a multi-cultural music curriculum, along the
way incorporating edublogging and game-based learning. His more recent pedagogi-
cal endeavors include developing a music learning mobile app Harmonia-on-to-Go with
automated feedback to support students’ self-practice. His forward-looking disposition
is now taking him into the realm of computational thinking and AI as a music teacher
educator.
Matthew Clauhs  is an Associate Professor of Music Education at Ithaca College where
he teaches courses on wind instruments and modern band. Matthew is a co-author of
Popular Music Pedagogies: A Practical Guide for Music Teachers (Routledge) and his research
on creativity and inclusion has been published in Music Education Research, Music Educators
Journal, Choral Journal, Urban Education, Journal of Music Teacher Education, and Arts Educa-
tion Policy Review. He is the chairperson of the New York State School Music Education
research committee and serves on the editorial review boards of Music Educators Journal
and Contributions to Music Education.
Matthew Cowan received his Master’s degree in Music from Edinburgh Napier Univer-
sity, Scotland, in 2021. During his time at university, his studies focused on the impact
of new music technologies on his creative practice. His work explored the potential for
multiple artistic identities to be conveyed through social media and the effects artistic
identities have on creative processes. He also researches how technological environments
shape a user’s relationship to music and, additionally, the economic effects of streaming
services. Matthew is also a guitarist and composer whose compositions explore a wide
variety of influences from bossa nova to video-game soundtracks.
Roberto Cremades-Andreu is a holder of an M.A. in Music Education and a Ph.D. from
the University of Granada, with a “Doctor Europeus.” His research interests include
musical preferences, music teacher training, and music creativity. He has authored and
co-authored many articles and books in the above areas with internationally recognized
publishers. Also, he has been a principal investigator and participant in several research
projects. He has presented his work at national and international conferences, both in the
field of Musical Education and in the field of Quality Assessment of Higher Education
and Research. He is currently a Vice-Dean of Research and Postgraduate Studies at the
Faculty of Education and an associate editor of Bordón.
Dr. Radio Cremata is Associate Professor and Chair of Music Education at Ithaca Col-
lege. His research has been published in the Journal of Research in Music Education, the
International Journal of Music Education, the Journal of Music, Technology and Education, Music
Educator’s Journal, Action Criticism and Theory for Music Education, and the Journal of Popu-
lar Music Education. He has published a book with Routledge, and contributed chapters
to edited books for IGI, Bloomsbury, and Oxford University Press. His teaching and
research reflect his commitment to innovation, progress, and re-imagine the future of
Music Education.
Dr. Leon de Bruin is an Educator, Performer, and Researcher in music education, cre-
ativity, cognition, creative pedagogies, and improvisation. He is a Lecturer in Music at
the University of Melbourne, Conservatorium of Music, and coordinator of the Master
of Music Performance Teaching degree (MMPT). He is a staunch advocate for quality
music education in Australia and music teacher education. He is ASME National Pres-
ident and an executive of ISME Instrumental and Vocal Teaching Forum. He has pub-
lished over 50 articles, chapters, and edited books, including Creativities in Arts Education,
xviii Contributors
Research and Practice: International Perspectives for the Future of Learning and Teaching, and
Creativity in Education in the Oxford Research Encyclopaedia of Education.
Harry Docherty is a Ph.D. research student studying Music at Edinburgh Napier Uni-
versity, UK. His research interests include creative collaboration, musical identity, and
multimedia collaboration. As an active composer, producer, and recording artist, he
releases and performs music under the alias Harry Bongo. His musical output incorpo-
rates sampling of found sounds and audio recordings in a blend of electronic and acoustic
textures. In his solo work and contributions to different musical projects, Harry explores
different emotions and narratives through primarily instrumental music, bringing out a
sense of humanity from electronic technology. Through his live performances and mul-
timedia collaborations, Harry also explores the relationship between music and different
visual mediums and how they intertwine to create meaningful experiences for people.
Brian Dozoretz  is Manager of Recording Services at Ithaca College, where he man-
ages a staff of 40 student employees, trained on the latest versions of audio software/
hardware, while overseeing 70+ years of concert recording archives. With over 25 years
of experience in the music industry, he is an AVID-Certified Support Representative/
Instructor, working as recording engineer, producer, musician, studio manager, and
technician, while collaborating with world-class artists, producers, and engineers on
Grammy-­w inning projects. A graduate of Ithaca College with a bachelor of science de-
gree in Audio Production, with minors in Electroacoustic Music and Still Photography,
he is an actively performing bassist.
Kaelin Farnish is a Master’s student studying Music Therapy at Queen Margaret Univer-
sity, Scotland. His specific interests in research include therapeutic uses of improvisation,
communication through music, and forensic music therapy. They are currently working
with an adult learning disability service and have a particular interest in promoting
self-determination and individual rights through music. Kaelin’s personal music-making
is mainly improvisation based, experimenting with the limitations of instruments and
expression alongside musical narratives. They also have an interest in folk music, espe-
cially Scottish and Hungarian, and they are currently working on a project to revive
traditional vocal pieces.
Brad Fuller  lectures at the University of Sydney, Sydney Conservatorium of Music in
popular music, music education technology, digital communication, and ensemble skills.
He is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Music Education with an emphasis on the impact of
the Global Education Reform Movement on classroom music practitioners. His research
focuses on education reform, evidence-based practice, teacher beliefs and attitudes, pop-
ular music and related pedagogies, and blended learning. Brad has recorded and per-
formed internationally as an electric bass guitarist and recently co-founded a teacher
training organization called Gig Based Learning to work with in-service music teachers
on pedagogical change.
Dr. Donna Gallo  is an Assistant Professor of Music Education at the University of Illi-
nois, Urbana-Champaign, where she teaches courses in elementary music, curriculum,
and teaching neuro- and physically diverse students. Gallo was on faculty at Westminster
Choir College, and she taught K-6 general/choral music in Virginia and Connecticut. Her
research interests include music educator professional development and change and pop-
ular music practices in elementary school contexts. Gallo has published research in Music
Education Research, Journal of Research in Music Education, International Journal of Music Edu-
cation, Music Educators Journal, and the Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education.
 Contributors  xix
Jazmin Ghent  is an international smooth jazz and gospel recording artist as well as an
accomplished music educator. She was awarded the prestigious 2019 “NAACP Image
Award” for Outstanding Jazz Album, “The Story of Jazz”. She was nominated for 2019
Smooth Jazz Network’s Best Artist of the Year and was voted 2017’s Best New Smooth
Jazz Artist. Jazmin is also an accomplished music educator. She taught music to students
in grades K-5 for five years. In 2020 Jazmin was invited by the US Embassy in Haiti to
spend seven days presenting music workshops to adults and children. She has also pre-
sented workshops to young musicians in Syracuse, New York, Long Island, New York,
and Elmira, New York. Jazmin is currently a second-year doctoral student at the Uni-
versity of South Florida.
Himasha Gunasekara is a Ph.D. candidate from the University of Canterbury—a young
female who has interest in creative education in digital space. She was born in Sri Lankan
and has moved to New Zealand to persuade her dream (Ph.D.). Receiving her bache-
lor’s degree specialized in textile designing, she has worked in the creative industry for
a while and later changed her career into academics. As a young academic her special
attention turned toward challenges in offering creative education through digital plat-
forms. Her current research engages around the impact of social media on creative edu-
cation. You can reach to her via himasha.gunasekara@pg.canterbury.ac.nz.
Karin Hendricks is Associate Professor of Music Education and Chair of Music Educa-
tion at Boston University. She is a regular orchestra clinician, adjudicator, and workshop
presenter throughout the United States and abroad and has won local, state, and national
teaching awards. Dr. Hendricks has served as national secretary and research committee
chair for the American String Teachers Association and was the 2018 recipient of the
ASTA “String Researcher” Award. She conducts research in music psychology, motiva-
tion, and social justice, and has published dozens of papers in leading research journals
and books. Hendricks has published six books, including Compassionate Music Teaching.
Evangelos Himonides is Professor of Technology, Education, and Music at UCL, where
he leads a number of courses and supervises doctoral and post-doctoral research. He
co-directs the International Music Education Research Centre (iMerc) and iMerc Press.
He edits the Sempre conference series. He is associate editor of Frontiers in Psychology
and the Journal of Music, Technology and Education, and past associate editor of Logopedics
Phoniatrics Vocology. Evangelos has developed the free online technologies for Sounds of
Intent, Inspire-Music, and the Online Afghan Rubab Tutor. He is a fellow of the RSA
and Chartered Fellow (FBCS CITP) of the British Computer Society.
Samuel Holmes is currently the music specialist at Garden Hills Elementary School in the
Atlanta Public School District in Atlanta, GA. Samuel’s 20 years of teaching experience
has reached students in Georgia, California, and New Mexico, ranging from elementary
to high school, in both public and private school settings. He has served in various local,
state, and national leadership roles and received a Teacher of the Year award. He has
presented at multiple research and in-service conferences throughout the United States,
focusing on collaborative and digital creativities in the general music classroom.
James Humberstone  is a Senior Lecturer at the University of Sydney, Sydney Con-
servatorium of Music. His undergraduate teaching areas are music education and com-
position, specializing in composition and technology. He also supervises postgraduate
research projects in the diverse fields of musicology, music education, music technol-
ogy, and composition/production. He has published in all of these fields and also as a
composer-producer of experimental and electro-acoustic music, music for children and
xx Contributors
community ensembles, and orchestrations and beats for hip-hop. Humberstone leads
a research group investigating educators’ responses to provocations in his free online
course, The Place of Music in 21st Century Education.
Damián Keller is an Associate Professor of music technology at Universidade Federal do
Acre and Universidade Federal da Paraíba. He is a member and founder of the Amazon
Center for Music Research (NAP) and of the Ubiquitous Music Group. His research
targets ubiquitous music and ecologically grounded creative practice. During 2022, he is
at Maynooth University, Ireland, as an Erasmus Visiting Scholar.
Dr. Victoria Kinsella is Senior Research Fellow in Education at Birmingham City Uni-
versity. Victoria has researched widely in the field of the arts education and creativity.
She has worked on a number of creative arts research projects in various contexts, in-
cluding schools, prisons, galleries, arts centers and with educational agencies. Victoria
teaches across a wide range of programs at the University at postgraduate level and su-
pervises a large cohort of doctoral students. Her body of research into creativities and
arts education has challenged existing orthodoxies of practice, influencing curriculum,
pedagogy, and practice, especially for children and young people considered at risk of
educational exclusion.
Dr. Jonathan Kladder is Assistant Professor of Music Education at the University of North
Carolina Wilmington. His degrees are from the University of South Florida (Ph.D.),
Boston University (M.M.Ed.), and Hope College (B.M.Ed.). He continues to pursue an
active research agenda and is a frequent presenter at state, national, and international mu-
sic education conferences. His research focuses on music technology, creativity, equity
and access in undergraduate music admissions, and expanding music curricula in ways
that enhance creative thinking. His co-edited book, The Learner-­Centered Music Class-
room: Models and Possibilities, explores pedagogical models that support learner-centered
approaches in the music classroom.
Erika J. Knapp is an Assistant Professor of Music Education at the University of North
Texas where she teaches both undergraduate and graduate coursework in music educa-
tion. She holds a Ph.D. in Music Education from Michigan State University, and spe-
cializes in elementary education, music for special learners, and inclusive practice. Her
scholarly and research interests include music for students with ability difference, teacher
professional development, antiracist music education, and teachers as improvisational
artists. Knapp has published research in Music Education Research, Arts Education Policy Re-
view, Music Educators Journal, and the Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education.
Alexander Koops is Associate Professor at Azusa Pacific University, was born and raised
in Jos, Nigeria. He holds a D.M.A. degree in Music Education (University of Southern
California), a B.A. degree in Music Education (Calvin College), and an M.M. degree in
Wind Conducting (University of Colorado, Boulder). He is a Fulbright scholar (Riga,
Latvia, 2012), and a published author as well as a regular clinician at schools throughout
Southern California. His writings include the book Composition Concepts for Band and
Orchestra (2020), and a chapter in Composing Our Future (Oxford University Press, 2012).
John Kratus  is Professor Emeritus of music education from Michigan State University,
where he served as chairperson and taught general music methods, philosophy, research,
sociology, and songwriting. He has presented his ideas at conferences in Ireland, Scot-
land, England, Sweden, Germany, Austria, Greece, Egypt, Japan, China, Malaysia, Can-
ada, and the United States. His articles have appeared in most of the world’s major
music education journals. He previously chaired the Special Research Interest Groups in
 Contributors  xxi
Creativity, Philosophy, and Popular Music Education for the National (USA) Associa-
tion for Music Education. Since the COVID pandemic began, he has offered his services
in teaching collegiate music education classes at over 50 universities in eight countries.
Kratus currently resides with his wife in Tarpon Springs, Florida.
Carlos Lage-Gómez is a holder of Ph.D. with a “Doctor Europeus” mention from Com-
plutense University of Madrid (Outstanding Doctorate Award). He is a visiting scholar
at the Faculty of Education, University of Cambridge, or the Philosophical Faculty,
University of Eastern Finland. He is the author and co-author of published articles in
high-impact factor journals. He has presented at national and international conferences
in the field of Music Education. He is a principal researcher and participant in several
research projects. He is currently an Associate Lecturer at the Department of Didactics of
Languages, Arts and Physical Education in the Complutense University of Madrid, and
Coordinator at the Gifted Students Program of the Community of Madrid.
Dr. Charilaos Lavranos is a collaborating teaching staff at Ionian University. His research
interests include cultural information, music information-seeking behavior, and music
information literacy in the cultural/creative industries, music information services (Li-
braries, Archival Services, and Museums), as well as creative event management.
Judy Lewis is Assistant Professor of Music Education at the Crane School of Music, SUNY
Potsdam in New York. She holds an Ed.D. in Music & Music Education from Teachers
College, Columbia University. Her research explores the intersection of urban minority
music education, popular music, and social justice. Her scholarly writings have appeared
in Music Educators’ Journal, Music Education Research, International Journal of Community Mu-
sic, Philosophy of Music Education Review, School Music News, Psychomusicology: Music, Mind,
and Brain and in the edited volume Narratives and Reflections in Music Education: Listening
to Voices Seldom Heard (Springer, 2019).
Mengchen Lu is Ph.D. Research Scholar at the National Institute of Education, Nanyang
Technological University, Singapore, where she is working on her doctoral research
under the supervision of Leonard Tan. She has published her work in the Philosophy
of Music Education Review and also presented her work in several international con-
ferences, including the International Society for the Philosophy of Music Education
(ISPME) Symposium. She earned her Master of Arts from the National Institute of
Education, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, and also Bachelor’s and
­Master’s from Jiangsu ­Normal University, China. In addition to piano and voice, she
plays the guqin.
Stavros Makris  holds a Ph.D. in Music Education from UCL Institute of Education.
He completed his first Master in Composition for Film and Multimedia at New York
University, his second Master in Musicology at Royal Holloway University of London,
having previously studied Contemporary Writing and Production at Berklee College of
Music. His music teaching experience extends from Primary to Adult Education. He has
lectured and published on music education and creativity and has written and produced
music for theater, TV and film productions, as well as for visual arts interventions.
Marcella Mandanici is a Professor of Music Education Technologies at the Music Con-
servatory ”L.Marenzio” in Brescia (Italy). She is a composer of instrumental and elec-
tronic music and holds a PhD in Information Engineering (2016) from the University of
Padova. Her research areas are computer supported music education; sound and music
computing; interfaces for music production, education and rehabilitation. She has been
a PC member of SMC, CSME/CSEDU and UbiMus 2020 and 2021. She has authored
xxii Contributors
more than 25 scientific works in the areas of sound and music computing, multimedia
and music education.
Lloyd McArton is a Musician, Educator, and Researcher living in Toronto. He is a Ph.D.
candidate at University of Toronto’s Faculty of Music, conducting research on independ-
ent musicians and how they learn to organize musical lives. His research agenda explores
the inequitable variance in opportunities for musical learning, devising ways to address
those discrepancies through more widespread access. Outside of academia, Lloyd creates
and facilitates others’ learning as a DIY-focused musician and educator. For the past sev-
eral years, he has spent most of his musical time composing, recording, producing, and
performing as a guitarist and saxophonist in the band Lost Cousins.
Trisha McCrae is an Installation Artist, born in Ireland, based in France. She regularly
exhibits in site-specific venues, galleries, and festivals, including Whitechapel Gallery,
London; Kings Place, London; Ruskin Gallery, Cambridge, UK; Babylon Gallery, Ely,
UK; Hat Factory Arts Centre, Luton, UK; Norwich Arts Centre, UK; Tulca Festival
of Visual Arts, Galway, Ireland; Centro de Historia de Zaragoza, Spain; Festival Vid-
eoholica, Varna, Bulgaria; Galerie Maison des Artistes, Riberac, France; La Brousse,
Sers, France; Traverse Video, Toulouse, France; Sarabandes, St Genis de Heirsac, France.
Her work is raw, immediate, and provocative. She creates immersive environments that
evoke and explore how the surfaces of these spaces can hold, project, contain, and in-
scribe social, cultural, and political feelings. She is a founding member of the NEUF
Film Collective.
Jonathan McElroy is a Ph.D. candidate in Music Education at New York University. He
earned his Master of Music in Composition/Arranging and Bachelor of Music in Jazz
Performance on trombone and upright/electric bass from William Paterson University.
Jonathan actively subs on Broadway and off-Broadway, leads a sextet, performs nation-
wide, and composes for a variety of artists. His previous publications examine music com-
position in the classroom and rap in music education. Jonathan is a professor at Monmouth
University in New Jersey, in which he teaches music education, popular music, and Ear
Training courses. You can visit Jonathan’s website at www.jonathan-mcelroy.com.
Marcello Messina is a Sicilian composer and academic working as Chief Researcher at
Southern Federal University, Russia (SFEDU). He holds a Ph.D. in composition from the
University of Leeds (UK), and is also holding honorary positions as Visiting Professor at
the Federal Universities of Paraíba and Acre. He has been the recipient of the Endeavour
Research Fellowship at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia, and of the PNPD/Capes
post-doctoral bursary at the Universidade Federal do Acre, Brazil.
Zack Moir is Associate Professor of Music at Edinburgh Napier University. Zack’s research
interests are in popular music in higher education, music education for social justice, and
composition/improvisation pedagogies. Zack is the lead editor of The Bloomsbury Hand-
book of Popular Music Education: Perspective and Practices (2019), an editor of The Routledge
Research Companion to Popular Music Education (2017), and an editor of Action Based Ap-
proaches in Popular Music Education (2021). Zack is the Chair of the ISME Popular Music
Education Special Interest Group and is on the Board of Directors of APME. He is also
an active composer and performer.
Thomas Moors is a Belgian, London-based, awarded medical doctor with special interest
in voice and integration of art into healthcare. His mission is to bring positive attention
toward small and scattered groups (overlooked) in medicine, research, and society. He is
a Ph.D. student at University of Ghent, founder and director of Shout at Cancer (charity
 Contributors  xxiii
specialized in integrating music in speech rehabilitation after laryngectomy), medical
director of Sound Voice (community company specialized in implementing arts to im-
pact healthcare-related research and development), and board member of The Listening
Planet Foundation (world’s biggest nature sound database used for nature conservation
and preservation projects).
Ismail Okasha is a 22-year-old student studying communications and media at the Uni-
versity of Calgary. Ismail’s passion for music stems from his days of doing covers with
friends in junior high, to performing at live shows and releasing music professionally.
In high school, Ismail only viewed himself as a cover artist, but when university came
around, he was opened up to the world of songwriting through artists he met there,
which led him to writing music for himself and other artists. Ismail is now diving into
the educational world of music and songwriting and although he has never studied music
formally, it has always been one of his interests.
Emmett O’Leary  is Assistant Professor of Music Education in the School of Performing
Arts at the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia.
Prior to his work in Virginia, he served as an associate professor of music education at the
Crane School of Music, SUNY-Potsdam. He teaches in the areas of instrumental music
education, secondary general music, and music technology. His research interests include
competition in music education, instrumental music pedagogy, popular music pedagogy,
phenomenology, technology in music instruction, and creativity.
Charles Patterson is currently a Ph.D. student in Music Education at the University of
South Florida (Tampa, FL, USA). Before beginning his doctorate, Mr. Patterson re-
ceived his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Music Education from Georgia Southern
University in Statesboro, GA, USA (2017 and 2020). His research interests include music
teacher attrition and retention, undergraduate music education reform, and orchestral
strings music education. His current research projects include investigating the transi-
tion from student teaching to early career teaching to offer insights and implications for
teacher preparation programs.
Euan Pattie is a Ph.D. student at Edinburgh Napier University. His research interests are
in audience perception of performance (particularly that of electronic music), music as
social practice, and dance music culture. Euan’s Masters dissertation explored the effects
of the COVID-19 pandemic on dance music artists working in the UK, of which he
presented findings at the Dancecult and Poplive IMBRD conferences in 2021. Euan also
practices as a producer and performer of original electronic music, examples of which
can be found at www.euanpattie.com.
Clint Randles is Associate Professor of Music Education at the University of South Florida
School of Music where he teaches and conducts research on contemporary musicianship,
music production, recording arts, songwriting, and creativity conceptions. Randles is
the author of Music Teacher as Music Producer: How to Turn Your Classroom into a Center for
Musical Creativities (2022), and numerous articles in music education’s top journals and
book publishers (www.clintrandles.com). He edits the Media Journal in Music Education
(www.mjme.net) and the “Routledge New Directions in Music Education” book series.
He enjoys performing weekly as Director of Contemporary Worship at Lutz Commu-
nity Church in Tampa, FL, where he leads the ELEVATE band. Randles is a 2021 win-
ner of a Bronze Telly Award for his original music.
Rebecca Rinsema, Ph.D., is the author of the book Listening in Action: Teaching Music in
the Digital Age (Ashgate/Routledge, 2017) as well as chapters and articles related to music
xxiv Contributors
listening technology and experience, enactive perception, creativity, popular music,
sound studies, and pedagogy. She co-organized Sound, Meaning, Education: Conver-
sations in the summer of 2021 and regularly presents her work at music education, pop
music studies, and media studies conferences. As a singer, she specializes in early music.
Rinsema is Assistant Professor in the School of Music at Northern Arizona University
where she teaches courses on the cultural study of rock and popular music; she has taught
music to students ranging from pre-K to university level.
Niklas Rudbäck  graduated with a Ph.D. in Arts Education in 2020, and is currently a
lecturer in Music Education at the Academy of Music and Drama, University of Goth-
enburg, Sweden. Before moving into research, he worked as a music teacher in grades
1–12. His research interests concern the conceptualization and symbolic representation
of music in educational settings.
Lauren Ryals is originally from Littleton, Colorado and most recently resides in Philadel-
phia, Pennsylvania. She has spent most of her teaching career has as a secondary instru-
mental and general music teacher. Currently a Ph.D. candidate and Teaching Assistant in
Music Education at Temple University, her current research resides in trauma-informed
music education and arts-based teaching and research practices. She earned her Bach-
elor’s of Science Degree in Music at the University of Colorado and Music Education
Master’s Degree at the VanderCook College of Music.
Karen Salvador, Ph.D., is Assistant Professor of Music Education at Michigan State Uni-
versity. She directs the early childhood music education programs at the two MSU
Community Music Schools, teaches undergraduate courses on early childhood and el-
ementary general music methods, and facilitates graduate seminars on research, psy-
chology, and philosophy. Karen wrote the material on inclusive practices in Music Play
2, serves on the editorial board of the Journal of Music Teacher Education, and is President
of NAfME’s North Central Division. Her research centers on meeting individual stu-
dent needs, particularly in early childhood and elementary music settings, and on music
teacher education for equity and justice.
Caitlin Sandiford is a Classroom Teacher, Performer, Composer, and Research Masters
candidate at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. As a teacher in Western Sydney, she
has experience teaching students from diverse backgrounds, including students with
special needs, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students, and students from complex
trauma backgrounds. Her research focuses on technology in music education, which
informs her teaching practice. She is a member of the string quartet, Quart-Ed, where
she designs and delivers educational programs to schools and public audiences around
the state. While a classically trained violinist, she performs, produces, and composes
electroacoustic and electronic music.
Marissa Silverman  is Professor at the John J. Cali School of Music, Montclair State
University, NJ. A Fulbright Scholar, her research agenda focuses on dimensions of phi-
losophy, artistic interpretation, community music, and interdisciplinary curriculum
development. She is the author of Gregory Haimovsky: A Pianist’s Odyssey to Freedom (Uni-
versity of Rochester Press, 2018) and the co-author of the second edition of Music Mat-
ters: A Philosophy of Music Education (Oxford University Press, 2015). She is the co-editor
of Eudaimonia: Perspectives for Music Teaching and Learning (Routledge, 2020), The Oxford
Handbook of Philosophical and Qualitative Assessment in Music Education (2019), Artistic Cit-
izenship: Artistry, Social Responsibility, and Ethical Praxis (Oxford University Press, 2016),
and Community Music Today (Rowman & Littlefield, 2013).
 Contributors  xxv
Gareth Dylan Smith is an Assistant Professor of music, music education at Boston Uni-
versity. His research interests include drum kit studies, popular music education, and
sociology of music education. His first love is to play drums. His recent music releases
include progressive smooth jazz tracks with The New Titans, the Sun Sessions EP and
“Miskin Mounty Stomp” with Stephen Wheel, and the Ignorant Populists EP with Build
a Fort (Zack Moir). Gareth is the drummer for Black Light Bastards and a founding ed-
itor of the Journal of Popular Music Education. His recent scholarly publications include A
Philosophy of Playing Drum Kit: Magical Nexus.
Leonard Tan  is Associate Professor (Music) at the National Institute of Education,
Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. His research focuses on the philos-
ophy and psychology of music education, often incorporating cross-cultural per-
spectives. He earned his Ph.D. from the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music,
where his philosophical dissertation, written under the supervision of Estelle Jor-
gensen, was awarded the “Dean’s Dissertation Prize.” He has authored more than 50
publications and currently serves on the Editorial Boards of the Journal of Research in
Music Education, Philosophy of Music Education Review, and International Journal of Music
Education. He is also the Section Editor of the Encyclopedia of Educational Philosophy
and Theory.
Martina Vasil  is Associate Professor of Music Education and Division Coordinator for
the Department of Music Education and Music Therapy at the University of Kentucky,
where she directs the summer music education program and teaches collegiate courses
in general music, popular music education, and qualitative research. Martina is the pres-
ident of the Association for Popular Music Education and serves on the editorial board
of The Orff Echo. She has published in the Journal of Music Teacher Education, Journal of
General Music Education, International Journal of Music Education, and UPDATE: Applications
of Research in Music Education, in addition to several book chapters.
Cecilia Wallerstedt is a Professor in Education at the Department of Education, Commu-
nication and Learning at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden. Her research interest
concerns knowledge,teaching and learning in music, and the interaction between teach-
ers and children/pupils. She has conducted practice-based research on music education
in several projects in preschool, primary school, and secondary school.
Graham Welch studied education for 3–13 years, as well as music, at the Froebel Edu-
cational Institute and University of London prior to completing his M.A. and Ph.D. at
the same institutions. He was a full-time generalist Primary teacher in London for 14
years, and spent over two decades as a part-time professional singer. He has held the UCL
Institute of Education (formerly University of London) Established Chair of Music Edu-
cation since 2001, is Chair of the Society for Education, Music and Psychology Research
(SEMPRE), and is a Past President of the International Society for Music Education
(ISME). He has published over 400 publications.
Tessandra Wendzich is a graduate student undertaking a Ph.D. at the Faculty of Edu-
cation in the University of Ottawa. She has experience teaching in school and college
settings at the international level. Her research focuses on the generative processes of
music composition, and she has co-published several articles in this area in national
and international journals. Tess is an advocate for healthy eating and maintaining good
health. Her current research focuses on the implementation of the Ontario Ministry
of Education’s policy, P/PM 150, entitled School Food and Beverage Policy, throughout
Ontario.
xxvi Contributors
Stuart Wise is currently a Sessional Lecturer at the University of Sunshine Coast, Queens-
land, Australia. Prior to moving to Australia, he was Associate Dean (International) for
the College of Education, Health and Human Development (Te Rangai Ako me te Hauora)
at the University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand, where he now holds a
position as Adjunct Senior Fellow.
Kexin Xu  is a third-year doctoral student in music education minoring in vocology at
Indiana University, Jacobs School of Music. At IU, she served as the Associate Instruc-
tor for the graduate Choral Methods course and is the administrative assistant for IU
Children’s Choir. She has taught M323 Teaching of Music in Elementary School and is
teaching E241 Introduction to Music Fundamentals. Kexin’s research interests include
vocal pedagogy, psychology, and philosophy of music education. She holds a Bachelor’s
degree from the University of Arizona and a Master’s degree in Vocal Performance and
Pedagogy from Westminster Choir College.
Lauren Yacht is a Ph.D. student in music education at the University of South Florida.
She studied wind conducting under Eugene Migliaro Corporon, Dennis Fisher, Nich-
olas Williams, Tremon Kizer, and Scott Tobias, and previously taught high school band
and choir in Florida. Her research interests include conductorless ensembles, learner-­
centered rehearsal techniques, and alternative performance formats. Lauren began her
career in music education after a brief detour as an attorney, and is the founder and ar-
tistic director of Lazarus Orchestra, a conductorless chamber ensemble in Washington,
D.C. Her current role in education is as a homeschooling mother to her three children.
Acknowledgments

We would like to thank Routledge—most importantly Genevieve Aoki—for believing in

the project and in our ability to lead and conduct research that brings together the work
of many peers from around the globe. Genevieve helped us through work life during the
pandemic and made working with one of the top publishers in the academic world a real
treat. From the beginning she understood what we were out to achieve with this work and
made the process fun and enjoyable for all who were involved. We celebrate our friendship
here in these pages.
This work represents the efforts of more than 70 researchers from 14 countries around
the world. Simply put, it would not have happened without them. Their research, their en-
thusiasm, and their dedication were inspiring throughout the process. While we the editors
have contributed to six of the chapters ourselves, the impact of this work rests on what the
collection of nearly 50 individual chapters means for the field. Topics circle around commu-
nity, empathy, friendship, passion, radical impact, feel, culturally embedded practice, sound
and silence, what it means to be a teacher, what it means to be professional, and popular
music. We hope that we have said some things in these pages that help you focus your own
research and have the necessary conversations with your students about these topics that
should occur.
Thank you Trisha McCrae for your amazing artwork that graces the cover and major sec-
tions of this book. Life is far too short to allow a day to pass without appreciating the work
that artists do to help us all transcend our average mundane day-to-day existence. They tap
into possibility and provide a vision of the divine for us to admire and amplify in our own
work. Trisha, your work communicates a billion positive vibrations to the common good
of our collective message here. Thank you.
We would like to thank the College of the Arts, School of Music, and Center for Music
Education Research at the University of South Florida for supporting the work of Clint
Randles and his students and former students who are featured here in this book. We would
furthermore like to thank the Faculty of Education at the University of Cambridge for pro-
viding support for Pamela Burnard and her students and former students who are featured
in and through this work. You have given us the ability to focus on projects that can help
better situate music teaching and learning among the world’s most necessary and important
life pursuits and diversify the research that is being done and will be done that will lead and
move the profession forward. Thank you.

C. Randles, Tampa, FL, USA

P. Burnard, Cambridge, UK
December 2022
Preface

We would like to thank John Kratus, Peter Webster, Jackie Wiggins, Sandra Stauffer, Mar-
garet Barrett, Maud Hickey, John Paynter, Keith Swanwick, June Tillman, and many others
for their pioneering work in this area of the literature in music education. Creativity has
been from the beginning of our studies the most interesting area of the literature to live
and work within. Composition and improvisation provided a focus for many of us to ask
questions that pushed the music education discourse toward divergence in practice from
performance only. Over the decades, popular music processes and practices have taken a
more prominent place among the topics that music education researchers have concerned
themselves within the literature. Pluralizing creativity to creativities allows the term to
approach what it actually means—diversity of practice, person, process, product, press, and
position ever on as we progress as a profession making—with music within society. This
area of the literature cannot be explained singularly in terms of concept, scope, or focus.
Therefore, we must embrace plurality, a spilling over of our verbiage into plurality—
complexity, diversity, growth, and limitlessness. Studying composition and improvisation
alone misses diverse creativities that exist in the real world and focusing on them in iso-
lation ignores how they are lived and practiced. Our research strategies must grow and
progress as our understandings of how creativities are articulated in practice improve. We
need researchers to ask questions that matter to the world outside of music education. For
years we have gathered our collective inspiration from looking outside of music education.
It is time for us to ask questions that the rest of the academic world will be drawn to. The
study of creativities in music and in teaching of learning of it offers us a platform to do this
ground-breaking work.
In order to do this best, we will need to form groups and work together.
We learn from one another by sharing our work at conferences and publishing in books
and journals. We need to think of better ways to share our work.
In our academic world of new knowledge generation—reading, writing, and p­ resenting—
we must not lose track of the love and joy that we have for music-making. A healthy pro-
fessional work life must involve making music for fun, pushing our skills and knowledge of
current ways of being musical, and being at live performances of music that crosses bound-
aries and moves masses. We need to get lost ourselves in the creative process of making
music. This book is full of authors who themselves get lost regularly in the joy, awe, and
wonder of music-making. It is at the outset and in the end a sonically wonderful experience,
this music thing that we care so deeply about.
The parts of this book emerged from topics presented at the Suncoast Music Educa-
tion Research Symposium XIII. The symposium was called “Creativity: The Good Life,
Spirituality, and the Natural Progression of the Universe.” It was held entirely online dur-
ing the COVID-19 pandemic. Before Suncoast XIII, I (Clint) had chaired two separate
conferences. This, the third and only entirely online event, was the most challenging and
 Preface  xxix
profound. It felt amazing to be with other likeminded people at this event. It was intimate,
personal, and raw. Student involvement from undergraduates, alumni, and doctoral stu-
dents was high. It was life-altering. I needed the symposium more than I knew at the time.
I needed to be around people, to be intellectually and professionally charged. It was special.
The energy that went into the planning and executing of that event has spilled over into
this project that is a show and tell of sorts about much of the research that is currently being
done in music education to understand creativities. COVID-19 sensitized us and moved the
focal point of our discussions to places that we may not have gone otherwise. Community,
empathy, friendship, passion, radical impact, feel, culturally embedded practice, sound and
silence, notions of who can become a teacher, notions of what it means to be a professional,
and intersections with the world of popular music came up again and again in our conver-
sations. That means that these diverse creativities will likely become more important as we
move into the future. We would like to work with you to explore these topics to the level
of rigor that they deserve. [smile]
Part 1

Theory and Theorizing

Generating Good Vibrations

Randles and Burnard tune up the scholarly/research group of music educators as they seek
to honor the notion of multiple creativities in this The Routledge Companion to Creativities
in Music Education. Giant Steps in the Coltrane-ian sense of the term is the mantra as they
extend Burnard’s pluralization of creativity in the style of Howard Gardner in diverse
ways.
Tan and Mengchen give us a Confucian perspective on creativities and tradition.
Silverman draws a connection between cyberfeminism and creativities.
Rinsema helps music educators think deeper around the topic of interpretation as
creativity.
Fautley and Kinsella re-think planning for a creative curriculum.
Xu thinks through what play and imagination might mean for better vocal pedagogy.
Lavranos and Patterson think through what open information might mean for creativities
of diverse variety.
And finally, Randles discusses how an understanding of creativities as a natural progres-
sion of the beginning of time might make all of the difference in the world in explaining
why music and music education are an indispensable part of our lives.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-1
2  Theory and Theorizing
1 Tuning Up
Creativities Illuminate Our Discourse
Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard

Warm-Up
This is not the proceedings of symposia. However, a symposia did bring many of the re-
searchers featured in this companion together—Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium
XIII, held virtually from Tampa, FL, in January of 2021. This was the era of the height of
the COVID-19 pandemic. Society was distanced and most music-making and face-to-face
conferences were put on hold. The work of the conference kick-started an effort to compile
some of the best work being done to understand the complexity of creativities research in
music education. The work is diverse in method, connection to practice, and implications
for future work (Fung et al., 2020).
To best understand the nature of the connection among chapters and parts, it might
be best to think of the way Deluze and Guattari have helped us imagine how learning is
connected (Deleuze & Guattari, 1977 book A Thousand Plateaus). Each thought is funda-
mentally linked to each other thought in a web of multiplicity and non-hierarchy. Each
idea strengthens and supports each other in a continuous, ever-changing, ever-enlarging,
dynamic process of thought growth and progress. This idea pushes against the use of bi-
naries, dismantling dualisms, challenging universal reductive categories, singularity, and
linearality; and conceptualizing creativities as co-constitutive of matter and materiality
intra-actively entangled between human, nonhuman, and more-than-human dimensions
(Braidotti, 2019). In developing a rhizomatic mapping of each part of the book, we fold in
to constitute/outline diverse forms of creativities that can help us understand new author-
ings and modalities of making with music in new ways. Deleuze and Guattari’s concept
of “rhizome” is introduced as a method of conceptual arrangement, a method of practice
as research, a performance of thinking, a process of making and valuing responsiveness to
context. They describe the “rhizome” in the following way:

Unlike a structure, which is defined by a set of points and positions, the rhizome is
made only of lines; lines of segmentarity and stratification as its dimensions, and the
line of flight or deterritorialization as the maximum dimension after which the multi-
plicity undergoes metamorphosis, changes in nature.
(Deleuze & Guattari, 1977: 21)

These rhizomatic tracings or mappings of the assemblage of chapters in each of the parts
in this book draw on and exemplify a multiplicity of creativities that initiate change. Each
rhizome features the line of flight of chapters assembled within each part.
The parts of the book are Theoretical Good Vibrations; Foundational Creativities; New
Possibilities for New Creativities; Playing the Changes; Creativities Authored with/in the
Wider Community; Re-Thinking, Re-Searching, Re-Visioning Creativities in Perfor-
mance; and Widening Perspectives. Each part is connected rhizomatically as is each of the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-2
4  Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
chapters within each part. The rhizome chapters cut across the level of compartmentaliza-
tion required for a companion book project. Working this way is somewhat unavoidable
when publishing in the academic world (Belcher, 2019; Hartley, 2008). However, we have
pushed against the idea of compartmentalization when that was possible.
We commissioned an artist to depict the rhizomatic nature of the creativities research that
is featured in this companion. Trisha McCrae’s work is raw, immediate, and provocative.
She has a firm command of how images can create/re-create/portray politically charged
ideas that impact society. Her work amplifies the zeitgeist of the project. We had initially
been calling the book Giant Steps, a homage to John Coltrane and his groundbreaking
work in jazz performance and composition, particularly the album by that name that solid-
ified him as a legendary voice in the development of a new sound in jazz in the mid-20th
century (Lehmann & Goldhahn, 2016; Waters, 2010). We would like to suggest that the
takeaways of this book might serve to open the doors to new ways of thinking about music
teaching and learning, and so welcome our collaborating artist friend to the project and the
mantra that Giant Steps created in the world of Jazz—a million positive vibrations for the
future-making of multiple creativities practice and research and for future-making music
education. All chapters in this book have engaged with prospects, theorizing possibilities
for future-making music education. Standing as we are on an Earth whose vanishing face
is challenging what we have known and believed to be true, education is called upon to
undertake the formidable task of reconfiguring its aims and expectations: moving out from
the job of offering knowledge and truth to seek to enable learners to find out their own,
many truths, valuing the diversity and richness of experience. A future-making music ed-
ucation is a widening out of possibilities for appraising and attending to our presence and
our purpose in the world. Indeed, the invitation and the challenge of this book is to show
and tell, but also invite readers to rethink the dominant discourses, to perform new forms
of relating, thinking, and communicating what creativities are, which creativities we are
educating for, in the process of the collective authoring of this book.

Fork(s) in the Road: The Pluralization of Creativities Research

Pluralizing creativity makes wonderful sense (Burnard & Haddon, 2015). The process of
working through problems, coming up with novel and appropriate solutions as music ed-
ucators, takes non-linear paths. Every place along the process road produces multiplicity,
so it makes better sense for us to think plurally—creativities. Historically, music education
studied creativity singular—improvisation and composition mainly (Hickey, 2012; Kratus,
1989). However, the real world of music is much more complex than that (Burnard, 2012,
2013, 2022). Musical ideas and practices can trigger unexpected and positively beneficial
wildfires in our lives (Randles, 2020). New learning and understandings can do the same
thing in the realm of creativities research (Szabó et al., 2021). Learning in all its rhizomatic
complexity requires plurality (see Figure 1.1).
Plurality opens up new ways of thinking about what can be constituted as creative (de-
Bruin, Burnard & Davies, 2018). Rinsema through her dissertation (2012) and through
consequent publications (2016, 2018, 2021) has argued that music listening is a creative ac-
tivity worth exploring in much more richness and rigor (Rinsema & Edwards, 2021). Yacht
in Chapter 27 argues that teaching in large instrumental ensembles can be more creative
for students when they are allowed to guide their own learning throughout the process.
All of the ways that Elliott and Silverman describe personhood and musical praxis can be
articulated as a branch of creativities research (2015). When the foci of research is on the
people, processes, products, press, and positions (see Figure 1.2) involved (Randles, 2020),
we conduct research that can inform our understandings of creativities in music education.
 Tuning Up  5

Figure 1.1  Multiple and diverse creativities as seeds of change.

Figure 1.2  Person, Product, Process, Press, and Position.

6  Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
The hegemonic structures that hold music education in place (Kratus, 2007)—band,
choir, and orchestra, Western classical, read from notation-only types of practice that are
commonplace—buckle at the strength of the pluralization of creativity. If it is merely the
practices of composition or improvisation leading the way to curriculum transformation,
our chances for moving the profession to new conceptual and practical territory are slim.
Good intentions are not enough—real diversity is about change. However, by embracing
plurality in conception, practice, and assessment of creativities we better recognize how to
confront bias, question assumptions, widen access, achieve diversity and inclusion of mul-
tiple creativities and avoid outmoded conceptions of the practice of making with music in
the real world ( James, 2017). Genres mix, re-mix, transform, re-form, and re-configure
in an intricate dance of creativities. In this world, boundaries and possibilities for crossing
them are intimate friends. One cannot often tell where performance creativity, improv-
isation creativity, and compositional creativity begin or end as manifest in contemporary
real-world musical creativities (Burnard, 2012). Indeed, the entanglement of all of these
different forms of authoring and modalities (i.e., creativities) can seem inseparable when
digital and immersive technological creativities act as a catalyst for encompassing an inno-
vative and often experimental set of practices. We can be singular no longer. It does not
make sense to be. Naming which creativity we are educating for in what music education
setting by whom is an imperative if educators are to do more than simply acknowledge the
significance of a broader conceptualization of creativities in music education.

Themes: Big Ideas Start Small

Over the course of the four-day Suncoast XIII event, we made use of four provocateurs to
cut across presentations, decipher themes for the group, and lead discussions around valua-
ble topics that took place during our time together. A number of valuable themes emerged.
Some of them are community, empathy, friendship, passion, radical impact, feel, culturally
embedded practice, sound and silence, student-centered environments, “who can become a
teacher?”, and “what does it mean to be professional?” We suggest that as you read through
the chapters of this companion that you consider how work that you are currently engaged
in might grow what we know and understand about the following topic areas.

Communal Creativity
We are better as a research community when we come together in groups collaboratively
(Ajiferuke et al., 1988). We progress better collectively when we compare notes and share
ideas. Creativity as something that people study is a sociocultural phenomenon (Sawyer,
2011). So, community is a valuable aspect of music-making that we would do well to study
with all of the rigor and depth that we can manage. As you read through the book pay at-
tention to the aspect of community discussed by authors in their work.
When we listen to music, we are a part of the world of listeners. Listening is a creative ac-
tivity (Rinsema, 2016). There is a relational aspect of listening. We form strong critical per-
ceptions around our listening habits that can be studied, developed, nurtured, and refined.
Our listening habits and practice can be a stepping stone for meaningful music-making that
stems from the bonds that we share around our favorite music.

Empathic Creativity
Empathy is a necessary first step to being an excellent teacher (Meyers et al., 2019). It is also
the first step in respecting and really knowing where research participants come from. How
 Tuning Up  7
can we teach or do research with human subjects without first respecting them? Respect
comes from empathizing about their needs and what would help them flourish (Elliott &
Silverman, 2015). To empathize is to care about their well-being. Empathizing can make
us desire to put the needs of others first.
Contributing to our sense of empathy is our ability to demonstrate humility about our
own place in the world—our lives. Learning is like the growing root structures of a plant.
We are all plants growing in the same earth (Shevock, 2017). Realizing this helps situate our
own lives with the earth and with other plants growing alongside us.

Familial Creativity
Creativities are actualized in music by people coming together to form strong bonds
through their sharing of sonic and socio-political lives. We know each other when we
are making music together in personal ways that are difficult to achieve any other way. In
other words, there are unique bonds that are formed among living beings when they move
together in harmony, share a melody, or accentuate a rhythmic passage with synchronous
precision. It is a kind of implicit friendship. That is not to say that making music together
implies that people actually enjoy each other’s company, get along, or even like each other.
However, when we make music together we must coordinate our actions for the benefit
of the collective.
When music teachers allow students to be at the reigns of their music education experi-
ences, when they are allowed to choose which groups they are to play in, they often choose
their friends. These bonds can be very impactful on their development as musicians and as
individuals. Creativities research is exploring the ways that friend groups are formed and
encouraged in music education practice.

Entrepreneurial Creativity
Musicians tend to regard their practice with passion—they enthusiastically prefer the act of
musicing over diverse other life activity. Why? It is a pathway to a better, more fulfilled life.
They are wired for some reason more than other humans on the planet to favor expressing
themselves through organized sound. Elliott and Silverman (2015) discuss the place where
we as music teachers would like all of our students to be as being something like passionate
obsession.
Entrepreneurship has been construed as a distinct type of creativity because it is read-
ily associated with, and generally sited in, commercial, technological, and music industry
spheres. Entrepreneurial creativity is a change agent, where innovation emerges from the
interplay of passionate ideas and experimentation in order to create something of value
which is taken up in the public sphere. Entrepreneurial creativity sparks learning from fail-
ures, animates thinking outside the box, and is driven by PASSION. Burnard and Haddon
call entrepreneurial creativities (2015).
Is it always healthy to be passionately obsessed? Some people who are passionately
obsessed with drugs end up killing themselves and others. That’s not what we want or
would advocate for. Some people become passionately obsessed with video games and
fritter their lives away in activity that leads to poverty—while others become professional
gamers! Einstein became passionately obsessed with his theory of everything and Steve
Jobs became obsessed with building a beautiful personal computer to help organize our
creative lives. Passion can be positive and personally beneficial or not depending on how
it is actualized. Of course, we would like to encourage the healthy variety in our music
classes.
8  Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
Radical Impact
As music teachers we want nothing less than for our students to have experiences with us
that are radical, ones that last a lifetime and perhaps help shape and form their lives around
music indefinitely. This variety of experience is impactful and enduring in their lives. Tra-
ditional experiences in music education can be radically impactful. However, they repre-
sent a singular form of the creativity that can achieve these desired results. We need to think
plurally to help move our thinking and practice worlds to many more curricular options
that can open doors to more radically impactful experiences.
Creativities research in music education lives very nicely with the burgeoning work being
done in popular music education research and practice, as new and emerging technologies
and new media beg for pluralized ways of thinking and acting. Pluralized approaches to
conducting research resist the silos that have traditionally been built around creativities re-
search in music education, while leaving the door open for transformed ways of approaching
large ensemble instruction that build on the individual needs of students and acknowledge
the ways that musics are currently being practiced in the real world (Burnard, 2012, 2022).

Feel
There are ways forward for music education research and practice when we move to de-
center cognition among the ways that we know and understand the beauty of making music
with each other. Embodiment is a body, mind, and brain way of thinking about the act of
musicing (Elliot & Silverman, 2015). As we feel through our experiences making music,
we learn and grow in ways unique among all other human experiences. We have room to
grow the discourse around what it feels like to be musical. We could do well to teach the
world more about this uniquely musical way of knowing.
Authors in this companion address the embodiment of music. As you read their accounts,
consider your own experiences, your own unique perspectives on the ways you embody
sound, in your own unique places of research and practice. How can we collectively bet-
ter tell the story of moving in time and frequency with one another for periods of ecstatic
connection? We feel individually and collectively when we are musical. We really know its
worth to us when it is taken away. It is time to offer the world better research about what it
means to feel and therefore know, learn, and grow with and through music.

Culturally Embedded Practice

We should be working to create equality of opportunity in our music education settings. As
music teachers we offer communitive cultural capital. However, which variety do our stu-
dents need in the specific communities that we find ourselves teaching within? Ultimately,
we want them to continue on their own paths when they are finished with us. It would be
nice if some of the paths that they choose to follow were in part demonstrated, modeled, or
procured by us in some way or another.
How much do we embrace the idea of interconnectedness in our teaching practice? What
do we make of the tension between teaching musical skills and life preparedness? We should
deal better with how we think that these two areas should be fused in practice.

Sound and Silence

We are all more productive when we are rested. What did we learn from the COVID-19
pandemic? What do we do when we have more time to think and ponder our existence? In
 Tuning Up  9
the months following the pandemic, we have reconnected to ways of being that we had to
set aside. The result and sum of our learning is profound. We realize how much we need
each other.
Without silence there can be no music, as all musical utterances creep out from the cor-
ners of silence. This idea is important for us to consider when designing music education
experiences for our students. Do we leave space for inactivity? Do we leave time for our
students to reflect on their experience? Is it always activity led by us? Do we leave consid-
erable time for them to lead?

Student-Centered Environments
What does it mean to teach in an environment that is democratized? What does it mean to
be co-adaptable? What is the feeling in your classroom toward improvisational pedagogy?
These questions and many others like them paint a picture of the heart of the work being
done in music education to understand learner-centered environments (Blumberg, 2008;
Doyle, 2012; Kladder, 2019; Weimer, 2002; Williams & Kladder, 2019). Learner-centered
environments tend to take the shape of project-based learning, where students make a lot
of musical decisions in small groups, performing, arranging, creating, improvising, and
recording music that they choose. Student-centered environments function democratically.
They can happen in large or small ensemble settings. Student-centered learning environ-
ments are ones where teachers are allowed much more improvisational pedagogical free-
dom. They improvise in the moment based on what is best for their students.
Students are best served in environments where they are encouraged to be in the driv-
ers’ seat of their experience. The primary goal for teachers in these types of environments
is to bring out the best in them by creating situations where they practice thinking and
working independently. Priority is placed on high teacher expectations for determining
which learning strategies work best for each individual student. Increased interest in school
and learning tends to follow these types of pedagogical strategies. Student-centered music
teachers do not shy away from the use of popular music and/or media to meet students
where they are with regard to interests and learning goals. Teachers in these sorts of class-
rooms are constantly on the lookout for what inspires their students, for that is what will
bring the learning environment to life.

“Who Can Become a Teacher?”

The world of music education lives in an exclusive place wherein to be a music teacher one
must audition and perform on instruments that are found in professional orchestras (or operatic
voice). This is very limiting to vast numbers of people who would love to be near music in
their working lives and perhaps would make wonderful teachers. This is problematic for those
of us who would like to see music education grow to accept more diverse curricular offerings.
More diverse creativities that make up what occurs in the real world of music is what many
of us would like to see in music education curricular offerings. Music education could stand
from looking much more like the greater world of music. What would it take to see that more
widespread? Research in this area is necessary. Some of that work is found in this companion.
Are music teachers professional musicians? How would you answer this question? Music
teachers decide to teach music among hosts of other areas because they value it above hosts
of other things that they could teach. Many musicians, even very talented ones in places
like Nashville, New York, and Los Angeles, many times struggle to sustain a living that can
pay the bills. The changing nature of the recording industry has meant that musicians need
to do other jobs to survive. If the world of music teaching were open to the hip-hop artist,
10  Clint Randles and Pamela Burnard
it might mean that students of music everywhere could focus on learning music in very
different ways than the ubiquitous band, choir, and orchestra. Some of the chapters in this
companion address in various ways the tension that emerges from the nexus of the world of
being a professional musician and the world of being a music teacher.

“What Does It Mean to Be Professional and Achieve Sustainable Creative

Livelihoods?”
It is tough being and becoming a professional musician—living on only the income one
makes by performing and recording one’s own original music. What are we doing in music
education to educate for sustainable futures—for the sustainable musician in post-normal
times—in music? How are music educators authoring change? Which elements of profes-
sional practice foster diverse creativities? In what ways are we acknowledging the foothold
that digital creativities have on diverse music-making, on the greater world of developing a
sustained career as a professional musician, sound artist, and/or music teacher and/or citizen
who is making with music and engaging in diverse music-related passions with/in society?
There are as many creativities as there are genres, forms of music education, music indus-
tries, and transformational approaches to music education. The “where-to-next” insights
and critical questions that underpin all journeys for all creatives—not just musicians and
music educators—into, through, and out of a global pandemic like we are living through at
present are tough imperatives. Many of these questions are taken up by authors in this book
as they examine the nexus and pedagogical implications of being in an uncertain and rapidly
changing world. The music industries and careers in/with/through music need to move
much closer to the worlds of music teaching and learning. Music education should better
prepare students for the world of being a professional musician, which often requires more
skills than those that are learned in a traditional conservatory-styled higher music education.
Professional musicians find themselves doing more than performing music or making
with music but also teaching and working beyond music industries in some capacity. Career
narratives offer windows into the profession. Working musicians’ accounts of their careers
and working lives illuminate and evidence multiple creativities and professional identities
(Canham, 2021). How would their professional lives be better off if they were encouraged
to take coursework that dealt with the psychology, sociology, and philosophy work that is
engaged with by most pre-service teachers? What if we thought of the training of all mu-
sicians as the training of music teachers and vice versa? There will likely always be people
who lean toward teaching others and some who lean toward being performers. However,
if musicians’ coursework better prepared them for the reality of jobs that exist in multiple
creative domains, and if music education is better preparing students to engage with the
diverse creativities that exist in the real world, then higher music education would stand
to become much more relevant in the eyes of members of society. There would be a clear
connection to music that is taught in schools, the real worlds of diverse musics, and the
working lives of professional musicians. The proliferation of diverse creativities in making
with music and music education that are recognized and communicated in practices of mu-
sicians, sound artists, arts entrepreneurs, producers, listeners, arts management, educators,
and audiences, is prolific. The plurality of diverse creativities in music education, as in ac-
ademia and industry, is expanding. We are all learning to take (and develop) new “lines of
flight”, a term developed by Deleuze and Guattari to refer to the indiscernible possibility of
escape, the elusive moment when change happens when a threshold between two is crossed.
Creating boundaryless sustainable careers in music involves a great deal of emotional capital
and career plasticity (Burnard and Stahl, 2021). This book addresses how we can create
spaces for re-envisioning and innovating music education.
 Tuning Up  11
Time to Play
As you page through and read the parts and chapters of the book, remember to listen to
the voice of each author, the wisdom and leadership of the editors, and the zeitgeist of the
book—one positive thought produces a million positive vibrations. Creativities in mu-
sic cannot be contained, singularized, distilled of its magic. We can better understand it
though on a case-by-case and across-case basis. We can study processes in labs or more con-
trolled environments. We can study creative people. We can examine the things that people
create. We can consider the circumstances that surround their activity. We can explore the
spiritual side of their being—their orientation for where they are on the road of life—their
position (Randles, 2020). Our actions as researchers from this point on might be classified
as group composition and improvisation as we learn from each other, play off of each other’s
strengths, ideas, pedagogies, and techniques. We will inspire each other and challenge each
other to think and play differently than we had before.
If we wrote this book together only for ourselves, we would have wasted a huge amount
of our precious time—we only have so many minutes, hours, and years to live and work. We
have not done that though. We wrote it to lead research work in and out of music education
toward embracing the complexity of diverse creativities in our thought, research, and practi-
cal lives. This work carried into effect will lead to meaningful work, positive collaborations,
joyful professional exchanges, communal creativity, group creativity, change in practice, and
enlightened pathways for people to live the good life through music. When we come together
to work on projects that benefit the good of society we model the particles that came together
to form atoms that came together to form molecules at the beginning of time. We are a part
of the natural progression of the universe. We tap into the best of what the human spirit can
experience in life. We want that for you and for the communities that each one of us serves.

Questions for Further Consideration

1 How would you title the major sections of this book? How would you retitle the major
sections of this book that would go beyond the disciplinary and institutional comfort
zones, inviting new authorings, new crossings with contemporary real-world practices of
professional musicians to reveal how a multiplicity of creativities empower and sustain pro-
fessional musicians who venture across music and creative industries, beyond the expected?
2 What benefits are there to thinking about differentiating and distinguishing between
creativities, given that the music and creative industries are made up of myriad creativ-
ities and forms of creative labor? What do we gain by (and miss) thinking of it this way?
3 What questions would you ask in new research about the value, nature, and complexity
of “feel” as you make music individually (individual creativity) and with others (group
creativity)?
4 Which leadership creativities do you need to author change and originate new learning
cultures for transforming your own institutional programs?
5 How will these enactments of leadership, on which the actual practices of change de-
pend, look like and in what ways will you share/communicate/promote these innova-
tive practices to colleagues?

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2 On Creativities and Traditions
A Confucian Perspective with Insights for
Music Education
Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu

…Our research and practical literature defines creativity in music education as composition
and improvisation, despite the fact that competent performing, conducting, and all other
musical activity requires creativity on the part of practitioners. Creativity in this sense
is a social construct based on Cartesian-Kantian philosophies that elevate the creation of
tangible products over other musical outcomes. This construct is inconsistent with actual
practices in Western art music, and it runs completely contrary to our profession’s avowed
multicultural goals.
(Humphreys, 2006, p. 187)

If Humphreys (2006) were right, what are some philosophies beyond Cartesian-Kantian
ones that music educators may draw on to underpin creativities in music education? Even
more crucially, given music education’s “avowed multicultural goals” (p. 187), might phil-
osophical traditions beyond the West be mined? As Elliott and Silverman (2015) remind
us, “philosophy is not confined to Western society. For example, there’s Egyptian and
Babylonian philosophy, ancient and contemporary Chinese philosophy” (p. 33). Despite
some attempts in bringing in the Asian philosophical voice to inform creativities in music
education (e.g., Tan, 2016), the literature remains thin.
In this chapter, we examine creativities from a Confucian perspective, focusing in par-
ticular on how they relate to traditions. Our research questions are given as follows: (1) what
is the relationship between creativities and traditions according to Confucian philosophy?
(2) Based on our analysis, what are some insights for music education? To address these
questions, we examine key passages from the Analects—a central philosophical text of the
Confucian philosophical tradition that documents sayings attributed to Confucius (Tan,
2016)—focusing, in particular, on passages that allude to the old (gu 古; 故) and the new
(xin 新). To augment our reading of these key passages, we draw on scholarly commentaries
(written in both English and Chinese) from leading Chinese and Western scholars (e.g.,
Ames & Rosement, 1998; Li, 2004). While we use the work of Robert Eno as our primary
source of translation (Eno, 2015), we compare multiple translations where appropriate to
inform our reading of the texts. This is crucial as translating often involves interpreting;
such an approach also adds nuance to our readings.
In what follows, we present our analysis of two Confucian texts: Analects 7.1 and 2.11.
Next, inspired by our analysis of these texts and following the methodological lead of
Jorgensen (2011), we forward a metaphor-model pair through which creativities in music
education may be construed. Finally, we conclude by sketching some insights for music
education.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-3
14  Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu
Analects 7.1 and 2.11
子曰: 述而不作，信而好古，竊比於我老彭。
The Master said, “To transmit but not create (shuer buzuo 述而不作), to be faithful
in loving the old (xiner haogu 信而好古)—in this I dare compare myself to Old Peng
(Lao Peng 老彭).”
(Analects 7.1; Eno, 2015, p. 30)

The above passage contains a relatively well-known phrase attributed to Confucius: shuer
buzuo (述而不作), translated by Eno (2015) in the above as “To transmit but not create.”
Other translations of shuer buzuo include “I transmit rather than innovate” (Slingerland,
2003, p. 64), “I transmit, I invent nothing” (Nylan, 2014, p. 18), and “Following the proper
way, I do not forge new paths” (Ames & Rosemont, 1998, p. 111). Confucius goes on to say
that he is someone who is xiner haogu (信而好古), translated by Eno (2015) in the above as
“faithful in loving the old.” Other renderings of xiner haogu include “I trust in and love the
ancient ways” (Slingerland, 2003, p. 64), “I trust and love the past” (Nylan, 2014, p. 18), and
“with confidence I cherish the ancients” (Ames & Rosemont, 1998, p. 111). For Confucius,
shuer buzuo and xiner haogu are so noteworthy that in these respects, he dares to compare
himself to Old Peng (lao peng 老彭). While the identity of “Old Peng” remains a subject
of contention (which we discuss later), it suffices at least for now to note that the very use
of this name, in particular, the Chinese character for “old” (lao 老) itself appears that it is
placed rather strategically in this passage to emphasize the old. All point, prima facie at least,
to a sage philosopher who seems more concerned with the transmission of the past than the
creation of something novel or new.
Analects 7.1 begs a number of important questions: is Confucius against creativities? Or
is he just being humble in claiming not to create? If he loves the old, what about the new?
Probing into the relationship between the old and the new, we turn to Analects 2.11:

子曰：溫故而知新，可以為師矣。
The Master said: “A person who can bring new warmth to the old while understand-
ing the new (wengu er zhixin 溫故而知新) is worthy to take as a teacher.”
(Analects 2.11; Eno, 2015, p. 6)

The key phrase is wengu er zhixin (溫故而知新)—Eno’s (2015) translation seems rather el-
egant in using “warmth” to gloss the character wen (溫), thus preserving the flavor of the
original Chinese. Other translations of wengu er zhixin include “reviewing the old as a
means of realizing the new” (Ames & Rosemont, 1998, p. 78), “both keeping past teaching
alive and understanding the present” (Slingerland, 2003, p. 11), and a person “who by re-
vising the old knows the new” (Nylan, 2014, p. 6).
Slingerland (2003) highlights how there is disagreement among scholars over readings of
this text. On the one hand, there are those who see this passage as emphasizing the need to
keep teachings from the past alive; the importance of the teacher highlighted in the passage
supports such a reading. On the other hand, there are others who interpret this passage as
stressing the need to keep what a person has learned in the past current in the mind so as
to be able to anticipate the future. In fact, an examination of scholarly commentaries across
Chinese history reveals myriad possible readings. Huang Kan (ca. 488–545), a Confucian
scholar from the Southern Dynasties Period, reads wengu er zhixin as every month, one does
not forget what one has already learned; every day, one learns what one did not know pre-
viously (Yang, 2002). Zhu Xi (1130–1200), a Neo-Confucian philosopher from the Song
dynasty, interprets this passage as saying that when learning, one frequently revisits old
 On Creativities and Traditions  15
knowledge to constantly obtain new ones; in doing so, one creates knowledge by oneself
(Li, 2004). For Zhu, when one constructs knowledge in this manner, the knowledge can
be used and applied whenever it is needed. However, if one merely listens to the teacher,
rather than discover for oneself, the knowledge does not genuinely originate from one’s
own heart-mind (xin 心) and will be limited.
More recently, Cheng Shude (1877–1944) explains this passage as “there is nothing gen-
uinely new; all that is new originate from the old” (Cheng, 1997, p. 96, translation ours),
while Yang Bojun (1909–1992) renders the phrase as “when a person who is revising old
knowledge is able to obtain new insights and discoveries, such a person can become a
teacher” (Yang, 2002, p. 17, translation ours). Li Zehou (b. 1930), a leading contemporary
scholar, notes how China strongly emphasizes the importance of historical experiences,
recording them as lessons for use in the future—this is a key characteristic of Chinese civ-
ilization (Li, 2004). For Li, China has many historical texts that were based on numerous
historical events and experiences. By reviewing the old to know the new, there are no su-
perstitious beliefs in miracles, and no empty speculation of ideas.
Notwithstanding the myriad possible readings, it seems clear that this text emphasizes
the connection between the past and the present, the old and the new. This brings us to
another crucial question: does Confucius simply take everything from the past lock, stock,
and barrel?
In Analects 7.28, Confucius notes how although there are some “who invent without
prior knowledge” (buzhi erzuo 不知而作), he is not one of them. Instead, he teaches us to
“listen to much, select what is good (zeqi shanzhe 擇其善者), and follow it” (Eno, 2015,
pp. 33–34). In other words, Confucius does not come up with the new without gaining
prior knowledge, nor does he follow the past slavishly; rather, he considers ideas from mul-
tiple sources and carefully selects. In Analects 15.11, Confucius replies Yan Yuan on how to
manage a state: “Implement the calendar of the Xia, ride the carriages of the Yin, wear the
ceremonial caps of the Zhou. For music: the Shao dance. Get rid of the melodies of Zheng”
(Eno, 2015, p. 84). In so doing, Confucius freely borrows from what he considers to be the
best from various traditions, a position which Hagan (2010) coins “selective traditionalism”
(p. 9). For Hagan (2010), although this is “undoubtedly conservative, the fact remains that
choosing which elements are to be conserved is necessarily an interpretive project and the
resulting mix will always be novel” (p. 9).
While the Confucian emphasis is on transmission, change where appropriate is em-
braced. When discussing Confucian rituals in Analects 9.3, Confucius notes how “The
hemp ceremonial cap is what is called for in [ritual]. Nowadays plain silk is used. That is
thrifty. I follow the general trend” (Eno, 2015, p. 40). When there are clear reasons for
changing tradition, Confucius does so. In the same passage, however, Confucius goes on to
say that “to make one’s bows at the base of the steps is what is called for in [ritual]. Nowa-
days people bow after ascending. That is arrogant. Though it goes against the general trend,
I make my bows below” (Eno, 2015, p. 40). While traditions may change with the times
for good reasons, there are key aspects of traditions that should be preserved—even if these
may go against the trend. As Eno (2015) rightly notes regarding Analects 9.3, Confucian
rituals “are not frozen and may evolve with the times, but only when underlying principles
are understood and followed” (p. 40).
It is clear, therefore, that in emphasizing the connection between the past and the present,
and the old and the new, Confucius by no means takes everything from the past lock, stock, and
barrel. Instead, he considers ideas from myriad traditions, chooses the best to conserve, and
embraces change where appropriate. As Sor-Hoon Tan argues, “Having to choose what to
transmit introduces a certain type of freedom into creativity. This freedom would render
tradition compatible with creativity” (Tan, 2008, p. 65).
16  Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu
Having established several key premises, we are now ready to return to Analects 7.1:

The Master said, “To transmit but not create (shuer buzuo 述而不作), to be faithful in
loving the old (xiner haogu 信而好古)—in this I dare compare myself to Old Peng (lao
peng 老彭).”
(Eno, 2015, p. 30)

Earlier, we had asked: is Confucius against creativities? Or is he just being humble in claim-
ing not to create? At this point, it is worth looking more closely at the character for “create”
in the passage above: zuo (作). On the one hand, Ames and Rosemont (1998) point out that
the character zuo (create) in classical literature was “associated with ‘sageliness’; hence Con-
fucius’ description of himself is an expression of modesty” (p. 241). In other words, since
Confucius does not consider himself to be a sage, he modestly claims that he does not cre-
ate. On the other hand, Yang (2002) argues that zuo (create) implies buzhi erzuo (不知而作),
which means “to create without knowing.” If Yang were correct, this passage emphasizes
the fact that Confucius is by no means a person who creates without prior knowledge; the
crucial point is to forward the idea that one needs to learn before one can create.
In short, while Ames and Rosemont (1998) see zuo (create) as being positively associated
with sageliness, Yang (2002) regards the same character as being negatively associated with
creating without prior knowledge. Both interpretations are possible. Ames and Rosemont’s
(1998) reading suggest that Confucius is modest—which is compelling given that modesty
is traditionally prized in Chinese culture. Yang’s (2002) interpretation clearly emphasizes
knowing before attempting to create—which is equally compelling given Confucius’ love
for learning and the old.
We argue, therefore, that shuer buzuo (“to transmit but not create”) by no means suggests
that Confucius is against creativities; instead, it reflects Confucius’ modesty, love of learn-
ing, and focus on transmission. As xiner haogu (“to be faithful in loving the old”) empha-
sizes, Confucius clearly reveres and loves ancient wisdom. Cheng Shude rightly points out
that Confucius actively transmits learnings from several key classical texts, including the
Yijing, the Four Books, the Songs, and the Spring and Autumn Annals (Cheng, 1997). These
lessons from the ancients can be used even today, and Confucius clearly contributes beyond
merely transmitting. As Sor-hoon Tan argues:

One possible reason Confucius considers himself only a transmitter is that he does not
write any ‘original’ works … However, even as a transmitter, Confucius clearly does
more than imitate the past …The combination of interpretation, reflective selection,
and pragmatic efficacy introduces into the Confucian tradition from the very begin-
ning a creative space that is necessary for its continued flourishing.
(Tan, 2008, p. 68)

Although Confucius does not consider himself creative, his work is clearly so, as can be seen
from how he injects into the Confucian tradition, “a creative space that is necessary for
its continued flourishing.” (As an aside, there may well be people who consider themselves
creative, but are not.) Whether Confucius sees himself creative is quite a separate matter
from whether he actually is creative. As Yang (2002) argues, it is difficult indeed to say that
Confucius’ ideas are not creative. Confucius transmits and creates, even if he does not see
himself engaging in the latter. In fact, as a teacher, we might add that he expects his students
to be critical and creative: he wonders why his disciple Yan Hui does not challenge (wei 違)
his views (Analects 2.9) and categorically demands that students return with three other
corners after he raises one (Analects 7.8).
 On Creativities and Traditions  17
For Li Zehou, Confucius’ desire to transmit results in him creating novel ideas that are
ultimately beneficial for society; this contrasts against changing traditions in ways that may
have detrimental consequences (Li, 2004). Importantly, in his attempt to transmit li (禮:
ritual), Confucius significantly augments the ethical weight of the term ren (仁: benevo-
lence; on ren and music education, see Kertz-Welzel et al., 2020). After Confucius, ren (be-
nevolence) and li (ritual) become two central aspects of the Confucian tradition, with the
former often being used to explain the latter. In other words, Confucius contributes to our
understanding of li (ritual) through ren (benevolence). For Li (2004), while li (ritual) rep-
resents transmission, ren (benevolence) is Confucius’ creativity. Although Confucius cre-
ates to transmit, the eventual result is that his creativity outdoes the transmission itself. Li
(2004) contrasts what Confucius does with what the Neo-Confucians do several centuries
later during the Song-Ming period: the deliberate replacement of li (禮: ritual) with li (理:
principle) which suppresses human emotions and feelings central to ren (benevolence). In
other words, outright attempts to change the past may result in unintended negative out-
comes, leading Li (2004) to argue in favor of a return to Confucius’ ideal of transmission.
By seeking to understand and transmit, humans rejuvenate the past and create—just like
Confucius.
Taking stock, we have explained shuer buzuo (“to transmit but not create”) and xiner
haogu (“to be faithful in loving the old”) in Analects 7.1. For Confucius, these two aspects
are so crucial that “in this I dare compare myself to Old Peng (Lao Peng 老彭)” (Eno, 2015,
p. 30). This brings us to the final question in our philosophical analysis: who is this rather
enigmatically sounding “Old Peng”? Several possibilities have been proposed. For the
Neo-Confucian philosopher Zhu Xi, Old Peng is a member of the literati from the Shang
dynasty referenced in the dadai liji (大戴禮記) who believes in the old and the transmission
of knowledge from the past (Li, 2004). Similarly, Yang Bojun suggests that Old Peng might
be from the Shang dynasty, although he also speculates that Old Peng may be someone close
to Confucius, eventually conceding that Old Peng’s identity remains unknown (Yang,
2002). Other possibilities include “a legendary figure comparable to Methuselah” (Eno,
2015, p. 30), and “a great worthy of the Yin Dynasty who was fond of transmitting ancient
tales” (Slingerland, 2003, p. 64).
The most philosophically interesting possibility comes from Cheng Shude, who cites a
Pre-Tang interpretation that Old Peng (lao peng 老彭) refers to not just one, but two per-
sons. While “Old” (“Lao” 老) refers to the legendary Daoist philosopher Laozi, “Peng”
(彭) refers to 彭鏗, the ancestor of the Peng family, that is, the first person whose surname
is Peng (Cheng, 1997). Reading “Old” (“Lao”) as referring to Laozi offers fascinating per-
spectives to this passage, especially in light of Cheng’s subsequent citation of the Kunxue
Jiwen (困學紀聞), a text from the Song dynasty:

老氏以自然為宗，謂之不可作也
Laozi places nature as the center of his philosophical worldview, that is to say, that
nature cannot be created.
(Cheng, 1997, p. 435; translation ours)

The Chinese term for nature is ziran (自然), often translated as “self-so” (Eno, 2010, p. 6),
which is autogenetic. Construed as such, nature is not created by an external god, but
arises from itself. In this worldview, creativities (zuo 作) are by no means creatio ex nihilo—
creation from nothing that leads to the radically new. Rather, the old leads to the new,
which in turn becomes a new “old” that leads to a new “new” in endless auto-generative
cycles (shengsheng buxi 生生不息). This leads us to our metaphor for creativities in music
education: the plant.
18  Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu
A Metaphor-Model Pair for Music Education
We begin in medias res with seeds from fruits that are scattered in conditions that allow them
to grow. With adequate water, oxygen, and the right temperature, the seeds germinate.
Roots and leaves emerge, and young plants come into being. Flowers blossom, attracting
birds and insects that make pollination (and cross-pollination) possible. Fertilization hap-
pens and fruits are born. Seeds from these fruits are then scattered in new conditions, be-
getting new cycles, and so on. In this continually creative process, the old and the new are
not antagonistic; rather, the old is continually rendered afresh, recalling Confucius’ wengu
er zhixin (Analects 2.11)—“warming” the old to realize the new. In this life cycle, the focus
is on the transmission of life, and this is done so rather unassumingly, recalling Confucius’
modest shuer buzuo (“to transmit but not create”; Analects 7.1, Eno, 2015, p. 30). Yet, the
continual creativities and generation of new are clear to all. The metaphysical worldview is
one of constant change (Tan, 2018).
Following the methodological lead of Jorgensen (2011) who juxtaposes metaphors and
models, we proffer the model of the Taijitu (太極圖) to complement our metaphor:

Within the black (yin 陰), one sees the white (yang 陽)—and vice versa; the yin and the yang
are interdependent and complementary (Fung, 2018). Similarly, within the new, there is the
old; within the old there is the new. Nothing is wholly new as the past informs the present;
conversely, nothing is wholly old as the old contains the seeds of the new. Just as the two
fishes in the Taijitu are constantly swimming into each other, the old is continually moving
toward the new, while the new constantly becomes the new “old.” Construed as such, the
old (traditions) and the new (creativities) work hand in glove as one: traditions contain the
seeds of creativities, while creativities can be informed by traditions. They are two facets of
the same unified whole: dialectical monism (Tan, 2019).

Insights for Music Education

We began this chapter with Humphreys’ (2006) critique of creativities in music educa-
tion, that it is chiefly construed in terms of “composition and improvisation . . . based on
­Cartesian-Kantian philosophies that elevate the creation of tangible products over other
musical outcomes.” This, for Humphreys, “is inconsistent with actual practices in Western
art music” and “runs completely contrary to our profession’s avowed multicultural goals”
(p. 187). In analyzing key passages from the Analects and proffering our metaphor-model pair
of the plant and the Taijitu as lenses through which to view creativities in music education,
we hope to contribute toward philosophical diversity in music education by moving beyond
Cartesian-Kantian ideas. Importantly, in the emphasis on change, we forward a view of
creativities that highlights process: the plant is continually growing and producing ever more
plants, and the fishes in the Taijitu are constantly swimming. Day is always moving toward
night, and vice versa—always a new day, always a new night. What matters is not so much
the creation of fixed and static “tangible products” as it is the constant evolution of ideas.
 On Creativities and Traditions  19
We agree with Humphreys (2006) that beyond composing and improvising, “competent
performing, conducting, and all other musical activity requires creativity on the part of
practitioners” (p. 187). Each new performance of say a notated piece of music might be
thought of as the birth of a new plant: the dots and dashes on the written page need to be
brought alive. Earlier, we discussed how Confucius draws ideas on how to manage a state
from the Xia, the Yin, the Zhou, and the Shao (Analects 15.11), and noted Hagan’s (2010)
comments that “choosing which elements are to be conserved is necessarily an interpretive
project and the resulting mix will always be novel” (p. 9). Similarly, a performer considers
multiple interpretations across history and uses them to shape her own reading. The point
is to neither blindly copy on the one extreme nor create supposedly “new” interpretations
without historical awareness (buzhi erzuo: to create without knowing; Analects 7.28) on the
other. (As an aside, how does one know what is new without knowing what is old?) Rather,
one carefully considers what has been done and creatively crafts a new interpretation—one
that is true to oneself. This “new” interpretation is “warmed” by the “old” (wengu er zhixin;
Analects 2.11); in turn, it becomes the basis from which future interpreters build on. In so
doing, traditions and creativities coalesce as one, contributing to “cumulative culture”:

Cumulative culture denotes the, arguably, human capacity to build on the cultural
behaviors of one’s predecessors, allowing increases in cultural complexity to occur such
that many of our cultural artifacts, products and technologies have progressed beyond
what a single individual could invent alone. This process of cumulative cultural evo-
lution underlies human cultural success and has enabled us to reach and inhabit some
of the most inhospitable environments on this planet. Why humans, but not other an-
imals, have exhibited a cultural explosion has caused much deliberation.
(Vale, Flynn, & Kendal, 2012, p. 220)

In drawing on the richness of cumulative cultures—and contributing back to them in

turn—individuals situate themselves historically, culturally, and socially as part of a larger
“I.” Yet, the individual self is by no means lost: we recognize Horowitz’s creativities and
individuality even as his playing was influenced by and impacted many others. To be clear,
the performance of notated music can be a slavish, uncreative exercise in mere rule follow-
ing, but it does not have to be so; in fact, it should not be so. The problem does not stem
from performing in and of itself, but from a sterile, ossified approach to interpretation.
To recapitulate Confucius, instead of creating without prior knowledge (buzhi erzuo
不知而作), it is crucial to “listen to much” and “select what is good” (zeqi shanzhe 擇其善者;
Analects 7.28, Eno, 2015, pp. 33–34). Whether in performing, composing, or other aspects of
music education, this view of creativities requires music educators to not only expose students
to a wide array of creative possibilities, but also thought on the part of the students to “select.”
It would have been far easier for Confucius to simply copy ideas on governance wholesale
from one single state; instead, he draws on what he considers as the best practices from the
Xia, the Yin, the Zhou, and the Shao (Analects 15.11). Dewey’s (1916/1978) distinction be-
tween “imitation of ends” and “imitation of means of accomplishment” helps illumine why
what Confucius does is “intelligent,” as opposed to what “idiots” or “copycats” do:

… Imitation of ends, as distinct from imitation of means which help to reach ends, is
a superficial and transitory affair which leaves little effect upon disposition. Idiots are
especially apt at this kind of imitation; it affects outward acts but not the meaning of
their performance. When we find children engaging in this sort of mimicry, instead of
encouraging them … we are more likely to rebuke them as apes, monkeys, parrots, or
copycats. Imitation of means of accomplishment is, on the other hand, an intelligent
20  Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu
act. It involves close observation, and judicious selection of what will enable one to
do better something which he (sic) already is trying to do. Used for a purpose, the
imitative instinct may, like any other instinct, become a factor in the development of
effective action.
(p. 41)

Take, for example, a conducting student who superficially imitates how Karajan looks when
he conducts (“imitation of ends”). Astute concert goers would immediately brand this
student a “copycat” or, even more harshly, an “idiot.” This is quite a separate matter from
trying to understand what it is that Karajan (and perhaps several other conductors) does that
works (“imitation of means of accomplishment”), which demands “close observation” and
“judicious selection.” This is precisely the kind of “intelligent act” that Confucius engages
in that music educators can also encourage. After all, humans, as Dewey rightly notes in the
above, have “imitative instinct[s].”
It follows, therefore, that the view of creativities we are forwarding is by no means one
that is ex nihilo (from nothing), or achievable only by Kantian geniuses and the select few
with divine talents bestowed from above. Instead, just as the growth of plants can be nur-
tured, so too can creativities. Far from being impeding creativities, ideas from the past can
and should inform the present and future. As performing students, we have been instructed
not to consult recordings lest we become “copycats”; instead, we should form our own
novel ideas about a piece of work. While this can certainly be a pedagogical strategy among
many others, how does one know the new without knowing the old? Thinking out of the
box requires knowing what the box is in the first place. It is by seeing things as they have
been done that renders possible Maxine Greene’s (2001) “looking at things as if they could
be otherwise” (p. 143).
The French and Italian schools of composition influenced Bach. Western Classical har-
mony and African rhythms gave rise to Jazz. The modern Chinese orchestra fuses prac-
tices from the Western symphony orchestra. Yet, even as the “new” in each of the above
emerges, in turn leading to ever more changes, the “old” continues to co-exist and evolve.
Far from shunning traditions, music educators may embrace them as sources of diverse and
multiple creativities (Burnard, 2012, 2013), helping students create endless possibilities—
and contributing to our cumulative cultures.

Questions for Consideration

1 What are some “old”s and “new”s in music education?
2 How may the “old”s be rendered afresh in music education?
3 How may the “new”s benefit from the “old”s?
4 How might music educators expose students to a wide array of creative possibilities and
creativities?

References
Ames, R., & Rosemont Jr, H. (1998). The Analects of Confucius: A Philosophical Translation. New York:
Ballantine Books.
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical Creativities in Real World Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Burnard. (Ed). (2013). Developing Creativities in Higher Education: International Perspectives and Practices.
Routledge.
Cheng, S. D. 程樹德. (1997). Lunyu Jishi. 論語集釋. [Collected Interpretations of the Analects]. Beijing: Zhon-
ghua Book Company.
 On Creativities and Traditions  21
Dewey, J. (1916/1978). Democracy and education. In Boydston, J. A. (Ed.), The Middle Works of John
Dewey (vol. 9). Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois University Press.
Elliott, D., & Silverman, M. (2015). Music Matters: A Philosophy of Music Education, 2nd e. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Eno, R. (2010). Daodejing. Retrieved from https://scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/handle/2022/23426.
Eno, R. (2015). The Analects of Confucius: A Teaching Translation. Retrieved from https://scholarworks.
iu.edu/dspace/handle/2022/23420.
Fung, C. K. V. (2018). A Way of Music Education: Classic Chinese Wisdoms. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Greene, M. (2001). Variations on a Blue Guitar. New York: Teachers College Press.
Hagen, K. (2010). The propriety of Confucius: A sense-of-ritual. Asian Philosophy, 20(1), 1–25.
Humphreys, J. T. (2006). 2006 Senior researcher award acceptance address: Observations about music
education research in MENC’s first and second centuries. Journal of Research in Music Education, 54(3),
183–202.
Jorgensen, E. R. (2011). Pictures of Music Education. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Kertz-Welzel, A., Tan, L., Berger, M., & Lines, D. (2020). A humanistic approach to music education:
(Critical) International perspectives. In Yob, I. M., & Jorgensen, E. R. (Eds.), Humane Music Education
for the Common Good (pp. 248–260). Indiana: Indiana University Press.
Li, Z. H. 李澤厚. (2004). Lunyu Jindu. 論語今讀. [Reading the Analects Today]. Beijing: Joint Publishing.
Nylan, M. (2014). The Analects. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.
Slingerland, E. G. (2003). Confucius Analects: With Selections from Traditional Commentaries. Indianapolis:
Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.
Tan, L. (2016). Confucian Creatio in situ–philosophical resource for a theory of creativity in instrumental
music education. Music Education Research, 18(1), 91–108.
Tan, L. (2018). On confucian metaphysics, the pragmatist revolution, and philosophy of music education.
Philosophy of Music Education Review, 26(1), 63–81.
Tan, L. (2019). On Jorgensen’s dialectical approach to music education: Resonances with yin- yang.
In Allsup, R. E., & Benedict, C. (Eds.), The Road Goes Ever On: Estelle Jorgensen’s Legacy in Music
Education (pp. 177–188). London, Ontario: Western University. https://doi.org/10.5206/q1144262.jor-
gensen.2019.ch14
Tan, S.H. (2008). Three corners for one –tradition and creativity in the Analects. In Jones, D. (Ed.), Con-
fucius Now: Contemporary Encounters with Confucius (pp. 59–80). Chicago: Open Court Press.
Vale, G. L., Flynn, E. G., & Kendal, R. L. (2012). Cumulative culture and future thinking: Is mental time
travel a prerequisite to cumulative cultural evolution? Learning and Motivation, 43(4), 220–230.
Yang, B. J. 楊伯峻. (2002). Lunyu yizhu. 論語譯注. [Annotations on the Analects]. Hong Kong: Chung Hwa
Book Company (Hong Kong) Limited.
3 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”
Artivism for Music Teaching and Learning
Marissa Silverman

Devastation, loss, isolation, disconnection, anxiety, trauma, and more. These are all words
applicable to numerous experiences of the pandemic of COVID-19. Each and every do-
main of society—the arts, business, education, entertainment, the environment, family
life, law, medicine, sports, and so forth—saw drastic shifts and changes due to the nature
of this pandemic, and its outgrowth: online realities, online productivities, and online
creativities. Moreover, this pandemic altered—perhaps forever—teaching and learn-
ing, generally, and music teaching and learning, specifically. Rather than examine the
changes themselves through a binary utopian or dystopian lens,1 I’d rather attempt to feel
my way through the core of our “brave new world,” namely the internet’s means for po-
tential ends, by way of a concept that has not been spoken about much in music education:
namely—“cyberfeminism.”
“Cyberfeminism” is a composite concept, taking root from diverse fields: feminist the-
ory, media art, and online networking (Hawthorne & Klein, 1999). It emerged in the early
1990s, and somewhat fizzled in the early 2000s. The short-lived concept brought together
scholars, activists, and artists to form collectives and groups interested in redefining “what
was” to “what could be” given some of the political and gendered freedoms the internet
seemed to promise. What was the promise? Connectivity. However, what might cyber-
feminism and connectivity mean through the lens of COVID-19 and the 2020 pandemic?
Given experiences of this pandemic, might we reimagine “cyberfeminism” to more fully
potentialize “creativity” and therefore expand the potentials and potencies for our profes-
sion’s purposes, namely music teaching and learning (Portwood-Stacer & Berridge, 2014;
Vlavo, 2018)?
This chapter provides a brief history of “cyberfeminism” for the purposes of addressing the
following questions: how does feminism influence “creativity” in/through online domains?
What is cyberfeminism? And what are possibilities for internet-based artivism and engage-
ment in music teaching and learning (Silverman, 2020)? In addressing these questions, this
chapter provides a “case study” of cyberfeminist musical artivism that potentially expands
current models for music teaching and learning. Additionally, this case study in artivism
considers how music teaching and learning might be framed by taking responsibility for the
future. Indeed, cyberfeminist music teaching and learning is only as good (i.e., “creative”)
as the potential change—personal, social, political, emotional, and so forth—it inspires.
Thus, considerations for the ways in which stakeholders—­online and offline—­decide the
aims, purposes, and vision matter not only for today’s online m ­ usical-creative artivism
but also for tomorrow’s stakeholders and their needs (McCaughey, 2014; M ­ cCaughey  &
Ayers, 2013).
Please note: very often feminist scholars use the plural pronoun “we” when discussing
matters of making, creating, “creativity,” culture, and more in order to suggest that a
particular speaker is located within a community. In doing so, they recognize that “I” do

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-4
 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”  23
not truly exist onto myself; that I am always connected to something larger; that what I
do collaborates with what has been done before me and what will emerge after me. At the
same time, I recognize that language sometimes may seem aloof in this regard. So, I mean
no disrespect, nor any disconnection when I refer to myself in first person.

Feminism and Online “Creativity”

There are obvious reasons why the internet is called the World Wide Web (or www). A
purported “universal,” decentralized space, the web’s major commodity is its ability, nay, it’s
habitus, of connecting and connection. This is potentially true of people and places around
the globe; it is also potentially true of the ways our online and offline worlds are inseparably,
“inextricably intertwined” (Hawisher, 2009, p. xi) as a webbed universe. (I say “potentially”
because the tools and mechanics—computers and/or other internet-based technologies—are
necessary in order to capitalize on this “webbing,” this connectivity). Indeed, as Donna
Haraway2 (1985) famously examines in “A Manifesto for Cyborgs,” technological and non-­
technological spaces—e.g., online and offline spaces—intersect in various ways, thereby
noting that separating “virtual” and “real” life is inaccurate, and a useless binary construct.
Relatedly, as Radhika Gajjala, Natalia Rybas, and Melissa Altman (2008) note: “While cy-
berspace is not a place … it is a locus around which modes of social interaction, commercial
interests, and other discursive and imaginative practices coalesce …” (p. 1111). This locus—
this nexus—is a multi-layered meeting of disparate persons, practices, and more.
Because there is, or seems to be, an obvious online-offline interwoven web, I will not at-
tempt to distinguish online and offline spaces in what follows. Instead, when I discuss online
“creativity,” cyberfeminism, internet-based artivism, and more, I acknowledge that there
are “offline” implications and considerations. Indeed, as Kristine Blair, Radhika Gajjala,
and Christine Tulley (2009) state very clearly, technological means and matters can often-
times “constrain women” (p. 15) and create or “re-instate older hierarchies of gender, sex-
uality, race, and class” (p. 12). However, examining these implications and considerations
is beyond the scope of this chapter.
Rather, in addition to finding, creating, and shaping spaces to “occupy in the name of
solidarity, liberation, and resistance” (Blair, Gajjala, & Tulley, p. 15), another area feminists
have particular interest in is “developing culture,” its processes and practices (Hawthorne &
Klein, 1999; Namjoshi, 1996). But why? According to Susan Hawthorne and Renate Klein,
the culture(s) we create, develop, process, and practice “determine the way we interact”
(p. 12) with ourselves and with/for others. Thus, online engagements—depending on the
contexts, their iterations, and usage—have a direct relationship to a better understanding
of “creativity,” if for no other reason than the online world is in a state of becoming and is
consistently developing and redeveloping. But who determines whether iterations of online
“creativity” are, indeed, “creative” as well as feminist in orientation? Is it the maker or re-
ceiver? And does this matter?
Feminist online “creativity” recognizes and confronts oppression—of all kinds (hooks,
2000; Adichie, 2012)—with an aim toward positive transformation and equity. In doing
so, feminist online “creativity”—or feminist making—articulates problems and seeks to
“do better.” Notably, “the boundaries between resistance and reciprocity, the public and
the private, and meaningful and superficial communication” (McPherson, 2009, p. 381)
are challenged, re-formed, and re-situated as online matters and media exhibit and are
understood as processes of becoming more. Such matters and media, then, create “re-
lationships of transformative solidarity” (Rentschler, 2019). As Carrie Rentschler (2019)
notes, though, “feminist making may not be done by self-identified feminist makers”; and
the evidence of the “creativity” does not necessarily become categorized as “feminist”
24  Marissa Silverman
by “self-identified feminists,” either (p. 130). Instead, the product(s) and processes of the
making “shape feminist articulations of making and maker culture.” Such product(s) and
processes—or ­protocols—seem “more clearly identified with what it means to do femi-
nism” (p. 130). This then suggests that “making” might provide the “conditions and sets of
processes through which some people come to identify as and with feminisms” (p. 130; see
also Silverman, 2020).
At this point, the reader might wonder why I’ve been placing “creativity” in quotations.
This is because “creativity”—as a concept—has been debated and re-debated, dressed and
re-dressed, across hundreds of years and across disparate domains of scholarship, including
but certainly not limited to music education research. This edited volume is no exception.
Additionally, and as Burnard (2012) explains, there is no “one way” to be creative; thus,
there is no one way to conceptualize “creativity.” Therefore I wonder: where does this
drive to conceptualize “creativity” come from and is it useful?
In Music Matters, David Elliott and I (2015) discuss “creativity” at length. While I do not
have the space to elaborate here, I will provide some key considerations from our examina-
tions. The word creativity was not used in ancient Greece, but is of Latin derivation from the
late 15th century. It is a Western/European construct. Western ideals of creativity shifted and
morphed over time, though during the late 18th century, “creativity was defined as the cen-
tral characteristic of the artist, now thought of as an autonomous ‘creator’” (von Osten, 2011,
p. 136); someone who possessed “superhuman achievements” (Elliott & Silverman, 2015,
p. 338); someone able to bring “forth the world all over again” (von Osten, p. 136). Notably,
throughout Western theorizing and history, creativity was traditionally linked to the “male
genius” who possessed an “exceptional mind” and great talent (Elliott & Silverman, 2015;
McRobbie, 2016; von Osten, 2011). From the 19th century through much of current thinking
in popular culture, “talent” and “being creative” serve a kind of individualism that promotes
valuing “products”; to determine creativity is to examine—more often than not—a “thing.”
Moreover, as von Osten (2011) states: “The figure of the artist as exceptional creator of in-
novations in modes of production, notions of authorship and forms of living circulates today
in various discourses of social transformation” (p. 136). What this leaves out, though, is the
communal nature of making: “making things matters because it creates conditions in which
people work together. And in working together, they articulate and address shared grievances
and develop responses to collective problems” (Retschler, 2019, p. 134). So, when we move
from discussing “creativity” and “creating”—where the value is in the “thing” or “product”
to be assessed an evaluated—to “making”—where the value is in the “process” of collectivity
and relationships—we may see a clearer path toward communal conceptualizations that point
the way toward group-transformation, group-betterment, and group-flourishing.
Moreover, as Angela McRobbie (2016) warns, “the incitement to ‘be creative’” (p. 17)
may be a capitalist imperative toward “productivity”; where productivity is valued, social
control matters more than social care. Additionally, McRobbie (2016) states:

Creativity becomes something inherent in personhood, which has the potential to be

turned into a set of capacities. The resulting assemblage of “talent” can be subsequently
unrolled in the labor market or “talent-led economy.” The creativity dispositif comprises
various instruments, guises, manuals, devices, toolkits, mentoring schemes, reports,
TV programmes, and other forms of entertainment… these come together as a form of
governmentality…with a wide population of young people in its embrace.
(p. 11, emphasis in original)

Thus, a feminist stance toward “creativity” may see the need to bring more “care” and
“relationality” into analyses of creativity—both processes and products. And if we find
 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”  25
more care-filled engagements as makers, we are one step closer toward recognizing po-
tential harm and inequities. This move illustrates, then, the need to embrace “creative”
cyberfeminism as activism, or, for present purposes, as artivism.3 However, there is more
to be understood about “cyberfeminism” and its connections to potentials in artivism.
Why?

Cyberfeminism and Artivism

As Hawthorne and Klein (1999) state, “cyberfeminism, like feminism, is a developing phi-
losophy” (p. 2). Since the 1990s, understandings, definitions, and conceptualizations of
cyberfeminism have morphed, transformed, and advanced as the persons, mechanisms, and
impulses have, too, transformed and advanced. Approaches to understanding cyberfemi-
nism are as diverse as they are distinct, depending upon the framework utilized to capture
its essence. Therefore, I cannot provide a once-and-for-all conception of this composite
term. Instead, I give a sense of its ethos in the hopes that the reader will extrapolate some
usefulness and dispositional turns for understanding.
Helen von Oldenburg (2004) explains that even though cyberfeminism is a coming to-
gether of theoretical and net-based artistic engagements and entanglements, it is, most im-
portantly, “the update of feminism4…with a markedly higher arachnoid potential” (p. 67).
As stated above, given the online/offline divide seems to blur, and because the internet is
in a constant state of becoming, cyberfeminism is open, malleable, and without any appre-
hensions for the future (von Oldenburg, 2004). Therefore, the technical, social, cultural,
artistic innovations and our experiences with them are, too, open, malleable, and without
any apprehensions for the future (von Oldenburg, 2004).
Because of this, there is no unified cyberfeminist theory nor a particular cyberfemi-
nist movement (Milford, 2015). Instead, cyberfeminism is a “range of theories, debates,
and practices” that care about, focus on, and examine relationships between gender, race,
­ethnicities—i.e., identities—and developing digital culture (Daniels, 2009) in order to
counter stereotypes and inequities. Thus, as Rentschler (2019) states:

I suggest shifting the emphasis from the making of feminist things that might instru-
mentalize our conceptions of feminism into artifactual tools toward the doing of femi-
nism as a capacious assemblage of actions, technologies, ideas, and people … Feminism
is, after all, physical…it is something one does with others. For me, feminism signifies
something one does rather than something one makes. We need artifacts, documents,
and digital trails to make the doing of feminism knowable, to tell stories of feminism
over time, and to organize those stories into bodies of knowledge. It is the doing itself
that matters most, where the often ineffable, deeply felt qualities of enacting feminism
exceed any artifacts that may attempt to represent it.
(p. 141)

In brief, cyberfeminism as online musical artivism 5 showcases this shift. I (2020) explain
this in much more detail elsewhere. For now, I’d like to note that cyberfeminism and ar-
tivism align when an

Artivist (artist + activist) uses her artistic talents to fight and struggle against injustice
and oppression—by any medium necessary. The artivist merges commitment to free-
dom and justice with the pen, the lens, the brush, the voice, the body, and the imagina-
tion. The artivist knows that to make an observation is to have an obligation.
(Asante, 2008, p. 6)
26  Marissa Silverman
As Heather McKee Hurwitz (2017) states, cyberfeminism provides the discourse and there-
fore the tools to examine the ways “identities, inequalities, bodies, and emotions matter to
new social media and activism” (p. 477). In what ways have online musical communities
been harnessed for such potentials?

Cyberfeminist Artivism: Rhizome DC and Tara Rodgers

What follows is simply one case. By no means does this case represent all cases; nor
does it attempt to generalize the natures and potentials of cyberfeminism and artivism.
Nonetheless, the insights, practices, and engagements of what follows are potent and
worthy of consideration. Whether through online sharing and do-it-yourself internet
sites, cyberfeminist artivists can harness and are harnessing the powers and potentials of
music to motivate, re-shape, and therefore re-tool the social-political consciousness of
people and challenge inequities across numerous domains—especially those that pertain
to identity-making.
Based on the principles of Deleuze and Guattari’s (1987) sense of the rhizome—“unlike
trees or their roots, the rhizome connects any point to any other point, and its traits are not
necessarily linked to traits of the same nature” (p. 23)—Rhizome DC6 is a non-profit com-
munity arts space “dedicated to promoting creativity as a force for personal empowerment
and community engagement”; they “also strive to provide a home for non-mainstream
programming in the DC area”:

We host programs that promote creativity in all its forms. These include concerts,
workshops, performances, talks, exhibitions, and demonstration projects in areas such
as art, music, technology, theater, local food, poetry, as well as in more esoteric fields
of knowledge.
We believe it’s more interesting to make your own culture than to consume culture
made by others.
We are exploring new approaches to grassroots community education which seek to
blur the lines between amateur and professional, teacher and student, and which free
learning from rigid models of instruction and explication.
We also strongly support non-commercial artistic experiences and seek to provide
a space for artists to create experimental works and share the results with the broader
community.
(https://www.rhizomedc.org/about-rhizomedc)

Since opening its doors in 2016, the organization has crossed the online-offline divide
through a variety of eclectic arts-making activities and experiences. However, throughout
the pandemic, the Tacoma Washington, DC space hosted workshops, concerts, educational
programs, and more—all virtually. One such event was Queering Sound 20207: “the 20th
annual staging of performance, sound/digital arts, and spoken word focusing on lesbian,
gay, bisexual, post-gender-identified, queer artisans, and supportive allies.” While the event
showcased spoken word, the visual (and video) arts, and more, I’d like to focus, for now, on
one of the performers at the event: ANALOG Tara—also known as Tara Rodgers.8 I will
return to discussing Queering Sound 2020 and the music “itself ” after a brief examination
of Rodgers’ “creativity.”
Rodgers—primarily a self-taught multi-instrumentalist, producer, and composer, as well
as a historian of electronic music and sound studies—has created sound-based works for
The Museum on Contemporary Canadian Art (Toronto), Eyebeam (New York City), the
Tate Modern (London), and more. Her musicianship spans and defies genres, namely by
 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”  27
traversing diverse grounds such as electronic dance music, sound installation art, jazz piano
performance, electro-acoustic composition, and computer composition.
Rodgers’ (2010) publication, Pink Noises: Women on Electronic Music and Sound, won the
2011 Pauline Alderman Book Award; she has published essays and articles on electronic
music and social justice, feminist studies, technology and culture, and beyond. Prior to the
publication Pink Noises, Rodgers created the website Pinknoises.com; this online space was
one of the first to create a counter-narrative to the prevalently male-dominated worlds of
electronic music and media:

The site was formed out of a do-it-yourself ethos: Inspired by the legacy of Riot Grrrl,
which catalyzed feminist art making and activism in the early ‘90s, and by the utopic
spirit at that time for creating online communities that could transcend geographic
boundaries. Pinknoises.com was widely praised in the press for making technical in-
formation about audio production more accessible.
Pinknoises.com was supported by a large community of contributors and partici-
pants in online discussions and occasional events. The site was updated for a few years,
remained archived on the web for several years, and now continues its advocacy efforts
online through a network on Facebook9. Pinknoises.com was nominated Best Music
Web Site at the 2003 Webby Awards.
(https://www.analogtara.net/wp/projects/pink-noises/)

Despite the female-centered subcultures that grew in the 1990s and early 2000s (Rent-
schler, 2019), we still witness disparities across numerous domains in the music industry. As
Rodgers (2015) writes:

Some of the same problems that existed in electronic music and sound cultures dec-
ades ago persist, from the lack of gender and racial diversity in music and technology
classrooms (in terms of both students enrolled and artists discussed) to concomitant
disparities in professional opportunities and pay.
(p. 79)

Rodgers continues, by analyzing current inequities, their cause, and their manifestations:

…The male composer or audio technologist assumes a kindred subject position to that
of a creator/God—a seemingly natural inheritance from foundational, gendered and
imperialist creation myths in Western history and culture. Race-based expectations
operate in tandem with gendered assumptions about creative authority and technical
skills, and with sexualized assumptions about bodies in performance. Overall, the very
notion of who is legible as a “creator,” an “innovator,” a “composer,” a “producer” or
an “experimental musician” in the present is up against longstanding mythologies that
articulate socially and culturally differentiated bodies and subjects to particular social
roles and expectations.
(p. 80)

As stated above, Queering Sound 2020 spoke to the above issues, and Rodgers’ perfor-
mance for this event solidified her commitment to musically addressing inequities, thereby
engaging in cyberfeminist artivism. To listen to ANALOG Tara from Queering Sound
202010 —and to hear her—is to know, first hand, her efficacy as a maker of non-conformist
spaces. In this performance, her sonic nexus is layered, complex, and performative; her
music is an engagement with rhythmic disruption, meditation, fluidity, mindfulness, and
28  Marissa Silverman
healing; it is identity generating and difference celebrating through free-flowing sound
energy, and more. This making of hers would not have been possible had she not been a
disciple of the composer Pauline Oliveros.11
Where Oliveros adamantly advocated for “deep listening,” Rodgers seems to take this
further by suggesting a “deep way of being” through sound. Because of this, not only do
the therapeutic dimensions of sound come to life—also a rich, melodically rhythmic sense
of self-in-the-world.
It would seem Rodgers’ sonic explorations of “self ” manifest not only as a necessity “to
be”; it is a sonic/musical fight against the restrictions and structures that claim exclusion.
Thus, the making that emerges is a webbed world of magic beckoning for inclusion, sol-
idarity, and communal belonging. In the predominantly patriarchal world of electronic
music—whether dance music (techno and house) or that found beyond a club’s walls—
Rodgers processes and practices seek to honor the “traditions” she expands by carrying
her listeners along through deeply felt, deeply connected sonic energy that embodies joy,
transcendence, and positivity.
But why does Rodgers’ music sound out in the above ways? As she states, for her and for
many others, “artistic” and “creative” ways of living, breathing, and being can and indeed
do co-exist in activist—better, artivist—ways, namely as an “excavation” of and “testi-
mony” for the long-lasting inheritance and current feelings of “racism, sexism, classism and
other interlocking modes of oppression” (2015, p. 80). Rodgers continues:

The suppression of feelings—even sometimes their partial dilution into “like” and
“share” gestures on social media—is an operation of power. In the context of insti-
tutions and technological platforms that are oriented toward profit and sustained by
the production of inequalities, as Lorde pointed out, “our feelings were not meant to
survive.12” So, to advocate art-making and arts education is to advocate the survival of
feelings, their radical and diverse expressions, and their proliferating translations into
social action.
(p. 80)

Implications for Music Teaching and Learning

In an interview, John Coltrane stated:

I have tried to make a conscious attempt to change what I’ve found, in music... In any
situation that we find in our lives, when there’s something we think could be better,
we must make an effort to try and make it better. So, it’s the same socially, musically,
politically and in any department of our lives.
(Coltrane in Kofsky, 1973, pp. 862–863)

Might Coltrane’s words point us to the fact that music education, too, could be better?
Because of this, in what ways can we transform music teaching and learning, and how are
cyberartivist potentials potent?
I find it useful to further give voice to Rodgers here, as the what, where, how, why,
when of music making—performing, composing, improvising, arranging, conducting/
leading, and listening (Elliott & Silverman, 2015)—matter for music teaching and learning.
And some—if not all—of Rodgers’ (2015) “values and aspirations” as a music maker are
important considerations that could—nay, should—be at the heart of our own curricular
creating/making:
 Cyberfeminism and “Creativities”  29
1 That people have the resources and time to pursue creative sonic or musical expression
in ways that are unrestricted by gender identity, race, ethnicity, class position, sexuality,
physical ability, age, and other socially differentiating factors.
2 That such unrestricted creative sonic expressions foster
• Diversity of individual expressions
• Senses of community or belonging
• Recognition of differences without insistence on their resolution or
• appropriation by those in positions of power
• Shared commitments to eradicating socioeconomic inequalities
• Consciousness of social and environmental interdependency
3 That creative lives in sound are personally and economically sustainable, through:
• collective organization and/or ownership of the means of music production and
distribution
• societal recognition of art’s inherent cultural, economic, and civic value
4 That detrimental environmental impacts resulting from creative uses of electronics
and audio technologies are minimized (bold added; p. 82)

Rodgers notes that this above list needs to be in a state of “ongoing revision”; that artists/
makers should create their own set of values and aspirations that, too, need to be revised
again and again. I would say we, as music educators, could take inspiration from Rodgers’
words by (a) creating our own sets of values and aspirations—with and for our students
and their communities—through ongoing revision in order to (b) raise our own civically
minded consciousness both as individual educators and as a profession for (c) an equitable,
caring, and careful engagement with each other through online music making and sharing.
Musics can change lives and therefore our worlds (Elliott, Silverman, & Bowman, 2016;
Elliott & Silverman, 2015). And cyberfeminist artivism through music making/sharing is
a potential toward transformative ends. Still, what are the ethical concerns teachers should
be mindful of when exploring such ways of engaging and connecting musically? For exam-
ple, in what ways do online spaces marginalize people who cannot “afford”—e.g., socially,
economically, politically—to be engaged online? In what ways must music educators help
students negotiate online “enemies,” such as potential cyber-bullying and questionable on-
line websites? How do online communities present and/or promote inequities and stereo-
types? What are the forms of “malevolent online creativity” (de Saint Laurent, Glaveanu, &
­Chaudet, 2020) and how can music educators confront such harmful collectives? Such
issues are increasingly important, and are concerns that cyberfeminist artivism should (and
oftentimes does) directly confront.
Moreover, music is not a thing, but something that people do—something that people
make with one another (Elliott & Silverman, 2015; Turino, 2008, 2016). In considering
cyberfeminist artivism—through music—we witness a strong DIY (Do-It-Yourself ) ethos
and ethic that embraces tools (those non-digital and digital) and the making and sharing of
music for various ethical/social/political purposes. Students—with the guidance of teachers
(and, e.g., as witnessed through the work of Rodgers’ music making as a model)—can be
“in charge” of their own making through recording, mixing, mastering, the equipment
(hardware and software) itself, as well as the distribution, marketing, and promoting of
affective solidarity through online-musical meaning-making.
The affordances and connective potentials of cyberfeminism allow for music makers and
music educators to connect with one another and form musically emotional communities.
And such communities can exist “rightly” when they recognize, challenge, and change
inequities where and when they exist. Additionally, music teachers and students enact “com-
munity” through music making/sharing when they are able to possess a plurality of “mutual
30  Marissa Silverman
objectives” in order to unify “diverse people” (Lorde, 2007, p. 123). Cyberfeminism—
through social media, websites, DIY software, and more—opens the door to all students of
all ages to engage in musical story-telling, to affectively engage and connect with the musi-
cal/social experiences of others, to collectively organize, and to musically mobilize for a vari-
ety of positive transformations (Marwick, 2019). It is up to the makers/generators themselves
through music teaching and learning to enact feminist potentials. Indeed, as Audre Lorde
(2007) notes, “we seek beyond history / for a new and more possible meeting”13 (p. 123).

Questions for Consideration

1 What are some positive and negative implications of “online creativities” for music
teaching and learning?
2 What counts as cyberfeminism and in what ways might we consider such engagements
creative?
3 How are cyberfeminist practices and artivism related? Give practical examples.
4 What does cyberfeminist artivism imply for music teaching and learning?
5 In what ways can the principles of cyberfeminist artivism alter the ways we engage as
music educators?

Notes
1 See Milford (2015), who questions unhelpful, unfunctional, and unquestioned binaries in cyberfem-
inist research, such as:
ideas of online vs. offline, cyberfeminisms vs. non-cyberfeminisms, cyberspatial environments
as inherently utopian vs. dystopian, empowerment vs. vulnerability, risk vs. benefit, privacy vs.
self-disclosure, online authenticity vs. inauthenticity, victimhood vs. blameworthiness, and regu-
latory responses to online gender inequality as legal vs. extralegal.
 (p. 73)
2 Ecofeminist Donna Haraway rejects rigid boundaries and binaries such as human/animal, man/
woman, art/science, and natural/artificial.
3 See, also, Elliott, Silverman, and Bowman (2016) and discussions of “artistic citizenship.”
4 While it is difficult to pinpoint an exact timeline and therefore boundedness—theoretically and
practically—of feminism, many scholars categorize the “waves” of feminism by generation: first
wave, original feminists linked with the first formal Women’s Rights Convention held in 1848; sec-
ond wave, born of the late 1960s and 1970s; third wave, born between 1965 and 1979; fourth wave,
still emerging. This kind of “wave” categorization, however, seems somewhat artificial (see, Citron,
2004; Naples, 2005).
5 “Artivism” is a “hybrid neologism that signifies work created by individuals who see an organic rela-
tionship between art and activism” (Sandoval & Latorre, 2008, p. 82).
6 https://www.rhizomedc.org
7 Each year, proceeds from this annual event benefit local non-profits.
8 Tara Rodgers earned an AB with Honors in American Studies at Brown, an MFA in Electronic Music
and Recording Media at Mills College, and a PhD in Communication Studies at McGill University.
9 https://www.facebook.com/pinknoises
10 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZQldMNi0XE
11 Rodgers studied with Oliveros at Mills College.
12 Lorde, 2007, p. 37. “Poetry Is Not a Luxury,” published in Sister Outsider.
13 From “Outlines,” unpublished poem in “Age, Race, Class, and Sex.” Paper delivered at the Copeland
Colloquium, Amherst College, April 1980.

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4 Interpretation and Listening in
the Domain of Music and Sound
Creativities
Rebecca Rinsema

Introduction
In the field of music education, scholars and researchers have taken great interest in defining
and measuring creativity. The trajectory of the discourse on the subject can largely be char-
acterized in terms of a series of course corrections, on a march toward increasing inclusivity.
In this chapter, I provide a brief overview of that march. Then, I define and demonstrate
how interpretive listening is a creative practice, situating it as a recent course correction to-
ward inclusivity. In so doing, I join other scholars in challenging us to reimagine the notion
of a creative product, reimagine the role of the mind in relation to the body in creative pro-
cesses, and realign our creative musical/sound selves in relation to other conscious beings.

The First Step toward Inclusivity: ‘Creative Geniuses’ and Peter

Webster
As relatively young areas of research inquiry, music education and creativity studies came
into contact in about the middle of the 20th century. At that time, creativity theorists and
researchers were often preoccupied with defining creativity in terms of the more encom-
passing concept of the ‘creative genius,’ a Romantic concept that developed and flourished
during the 19th century (Montuori et al., 1995). In the early to middle of the 20th century
the tendency was to study and quantify this Romantic notion as if it were a natural phe-
nomenon. As such, the first corrective for understanding creativity as a concept in music
education was within the work of Peter Webster, who explored how children could demon-
strate creativity outside of the confines of the ‘creative genius’ notion (Webster, 1977, 1996,
2002). Such an approach to creativity was deeply helpful for music educators working with
children and adolescents in public education contexts, as it opened a new space of inquiry
and potential for pedagogical practices related to musical creativity.
Webster’s most practical contributions were his Measures of Creative Thinking in Music
I and II; teachers lead students in a variety of set musical tasks to assess levels of creativity.
In retrospect, we can identify research in music education in the latter half of the 20th cen-
tury as uniquely focused on such tests. Edwin Gordon’s (1965, 1979, 1989) work and sway
in the field is another example. The efficacy of such tests has, in the 21st century, come
under significant scrutiny, particularly in relation to their focus on specific types of music
(Western art musics and school musics) and specific types of musical practices (Western art
music composition), the latter of which was the main focus of Webster’s Model of Crea-
tive Thinking in Music and accompanying definition (see Rinsema, 2021, for thorough
review of this focus). Such foci were indeed remnants of the ‘creative genius’ concept as
it manifested in music discipline within the academy. Mid-21st century musical creativity
researchers seek more pluralistic conceptions of musical creativity.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-5
34  Rebecca Rinsema
Sociocultural Steps toward Inclusivity: Burnard and Barrett
The second important course correction was to identify forms of creativity that exist out-
side the confines of formal music education, and even more specifically those outside the
Western classical tradition and outside the Western school music tradition. This course cor-
rection more completely challenged the ‘creative genius’ notion. Pamela Burnard’s (2012)
work in this area brings to light the multiple creative practices that exist in and outside
schools, including, for example, the practices of singer-songwriters, DJs, improvisers, and
live-coders, among others. She encourages teachers to connect their pedagogical practices
to the real-world creative practices in music that she describes. Like Webster, Burnard tends
to focus on musical creativities that have tangible sound products and/or notated products.
However, Burnard’s work (2012, 2021) is distinctive from Webster’s in its sociological ap-
proach to musical creativities and its use of Bourdieu’s concepts of field, habitus, and capital
as interpretive tools.
In the same sociocultural vein, Margaret Barrett (2005) argues for a ‘systems view’ of
musical creativity as response to David Elliott’s praxialist philosophy of music education.
Leaning on Csikszentmihalyi, Barrett recognizes the ‘domain’ and ‘field’ of musical cre-
ativity. She argues for the importance of identifying the differences between the domains
and fields of creativity in adulthood and childhood. In later work, Barrett (2012, 2014)
develops her approach to creativity in terms of social and environmental ecologies, in favor
of a collective/collaborative approach to musical creativity

Too Inclusive, Not Inclusive Enough? Musical Imagination vs.

Musical Creativity
In the empirical literature, there is a tendency for musical creativity to be associated with
(mostly) composition and (sometimes) performance and improvisation. Webster’s and Bur-
nard’s accounts are good examples of that tendency, but there are innumerable other exam-
ples, one of which is the anthology edited by Odena (2012), Musical Creativity: Insights from
Music Education Research, which discusses musical creativity almost exclusively in terms of
composition and improvisation. This tendency has led to an unfortunate assumption that
musical creativity only exists in and through compositional or improvisational activities,
which has clear implications for pedagogical practices related to creativity. This assumption
dovetails with a preference for certain kinds of tangible products that can be easily assessed
within the classroom, a preference reinforced by the structures and values of neoliberal
education practices.
Hargreaves, Miell, and MacDonald (2012) respond to this tendency in the introduction
to their anthology Musical Imaginations: Multidisciplinary Perspectives on Creativity, Performance,
and Perception. In order to capture the plurality of engagements with music that can be cre-
ative, they argue for a shift away from the use of the term ‘musical creativity’ and toward
the use of ‘musical imagination.’ They argue the term ‘creativity’ is, on the one hand, ‘not
inclusive enough’ within the literature, when it comes to types of musical engagements.
On the other hand, they argue the term is ‘too inclusive.’ They quote scholars who argue
that ‘creativity’ is ubiquitously used in ordinary language, which renders it unhelpful and
perhaps even meaningless.
The concept of ‘musical imaginations’ certainly opens up areas of inquiry, and reframes
some discussions in fruitful ways. At the same time, it seems possible to preserve creativ-
ity as a concept in the literature, while (1) expanding it to include other engagements and
(2) making distinctions between scholarly usages and ordinary usages. On the ‘engage-
ments’ front, I’m thinking of music listening, and I’m thinking of the embodied aspects of
 Interpretation and Listening  35
musicking that have always existed, but that have been underplayed in the hegemony of
Western thought. In fact the emphasis on the mind is reinforced within the Musical Imagina-
tions anthology. Paying homage to Aaron Copland, Hargreaves et al. lean on the following
quote to define their territory: ‘It is the freely imaginative mind that is at the core of all
vital music making and music listening’ (as quoted in Hargreaves et al., 2012, p. 17). My
concern here is that ‘musical imaginations’ and the ‘imaginative mind’ (again) preclude and
under-emphasize the role of the body, essentially doubling-down on the presumed primacy
of thinking that is also present in Webster’s work.
As such, I argue for a broadening of the concept of creativity, while exploring the nu-
ances of that broadening. It’s possible to do so without rendering creativity or musical/
sound creativity meaningless, although it might feel that way to whomever is upholding the
status quo. In this case, the status quo could be identified as any number of phenomena now
firmly established as idiosyncrasies of Western thought: the masculine notion of the ‘cre-
ative genius,’ the anthropocentric use of ‘creativity’ and the ‘mind’ to distinguish humans
from animals, the neoliberal capitalist push to link creativity exclusively with novelty and
productivity (whether in music education or in commercial contexts), or the hyper-focus
on the individual in defining creativity as opposed to the collective.
Margaret Barrett might call such idiosyncrasies ‘creative imaginaries.’ In keeping
with her work, the following exploration challenges some of the creative imaginaries
that continue to haunt us today. Here, I explore interpretive listening as a form of mu-
sic/sound creativity. This is an exploration that challenges us to reimagine the notion
of a creative product, reimagine the role of the mind in relation to the body in creative
processes, and realign our creative music/sound selves in relation to other conscious
beings.

Ecological Views of Perception and Musical Creativity: Another Step

toward Inclusivity
I recently introduced a model of musical creativity that took into account advances in
perceptual theory, namely ecological or otherwise known as ‘enactive’ views of percep-
tion (Rinsema, 2021). The model is built on the theoretical resources of James Gibson
(2014), Susan Hurley (1998, 2001), and Eric Clarke (2005). The model is a response to Peter
Webster’s Model of Creative Thinking in Music, and emphasizes ‘acting’ with sound and
embodiment rather than ‘thinking’ with sound and mental representation. Just as Webster
opened the space for children to be theorized as creative at every level, my ecological view
opens the space for music educators to think of the many different engagements with music
as creative; it considers listening and improvisation to be foundational to the other engage-
ments. As such, the model is my response to some of the same problems of exclusivity that
Hargreaves et al. identified.
Here’s my definition of musical creativity: Musical creativity is acting with sound for the pur-
pose of creating some product that is new for the creator. The model is shown in Figure 4.1. The
idea is that teachers and students cycle back and forth between the enactive creativities and
the representational creativities in the learning process.
For the present chapter, I will focus on a particular part of this model: the cycle between
Listening, which results in listening experiences, and Analysis, which results in speech,
symbols, or words. According to the model, musical creativity and musical growth re-
sult from that cycle; this is an interpretive process. The questions that I will be engaging
with in the remainder of this chapter are given as follows: (1) ‘what relationship does the
process have to musical meaning?’ and (2) ‘how should this process be encouraged in the
classroom?’
36  Rebecca Rinsema

Figure 4.1  Ecological model of musical creativity.

Meaning in the Music, Meaning in the Listener

I’ll begin with the meaning question. In my view, this Listening/Analysis cyclical process
constitutes a way that music’s meanings are created. I view music itself to be a ‘composite’
concept (Eidsheim, 2011), and so the creation of musical meanings and musical meaning
is also ‘composite.’ In connecting musical meaning to the Listening/Analysis process, I am
emphasizing the listener in the creation of musical meaning. This might go against some
accounts of musical meaning that focus on ‘the music itself,’ but it certainly finds affinity
with other accounts. If we look back, over the past two millennia, we can actually trace an
oscillation back and forth between accounts of musical meaning that locate the meaning ‘in
the listener’ vs. ‘in the music.’
Plato and Aristotle focused on the music itself. The modes had a certain emotional power
over the listener. The Florentine Camerata focused on how listeners/audiences could empa-
thize with the characters/musicians in early opera, and, around the same time, Descartes fo-
cused on the listener’s physiology and how music could resonate with emotional fluids that
he theorized coursed through the body. Oscillating back to the music was Schopenhauer
in the 19th century, who considered music to be a copy of the will of the universe. More
recently, Peter Kivy (2002) has indicated that with this oscillation, meaning is put where it
rightfully belongs (location, 379). Much of the way musical meaning has been operation-
alized within the academy follows in line with Schopenhauer (although this is changing).
Indeed there are sociological reasons for this as he elevated the value of music in relation
to other arts. Probably even more importantly, though, was Hanslick, with his elevation of
absolute music in particular.
Even so, the listeners’ role has been completely neglected since the 19th century. In fact
there are a number of theorists who have once again turned their attention to the listener—
or the viewer—because we have to look outside of strictly musical aesthetics to find some
of these examples: Dewey (2005) is one of them, for him it’s the interaction between the
subject (the listener) and the music (the object) that is most important. What Dewey starts
to unpack that I’m not sure other accounts had to that point is the agency the listener has
in the aesthetic experience. This agency ends up being very important for understanding
music listening as a creative activity. In theories of learning, we find emphasizing the social
interactions among learners, so that the creation of knowledge and meaning is in the sub-
jects, not the objects. Finally, while early phenomenologists bracketed out all idiosyncratic
 Interpretation and Listening  37
features of the subjects in favor of looking exclusively at the art object, Merlau-Ponty (2014)
and other later phenomenologists viewed the idiosyncratic features of the subject as deeply
important.
All this to say that I have company in focusing on the listener when it comes to music’s
meanings. And the agency that subjects have in listening, interpreting music, and creating
musical meanings is essential for understanding music listening as a creative activity. My
view falls in line with Lawrence Kramer’s (2010) emphasis on subjectivity of the listener in
this respect.
Of course, listeners don’t have total freedom in interpreting music and creating music’s
meanings. For example, Madonna’s Like a Prayer cannot be interpreted as a comment on
human space travel; Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy is not about the evolution of zebras. What I’m
getting at here is not at all unlike how jazz improvisation works: creative improvisational
gestures exist because of their relationship to a harmonic, rhythmic, and timbral structure.
Improvisers, i.e., creative musicians, must come to an embodied understanding of those
structures in order to improvise creatively. In much the same way listeners come to embod-
ied (and representational) understandings of the sonic and social structures as they creatively
interpret music.
The good news is that these understandings are developed over time, in part, via the
mechanisms specified in James Gibson (2014), Susan Hurley (1998, 2001), and Eric Clarke’s
(2005) ecological views of perception, on which the model of musical creativity that I pro-
posed was based. But the even better news is that we can further develop these skills in the
classroom. And, just like creative/jazz musicians need to learn the harmonic, rhythmic, and
timbral structures in order to be creative improvisers, so listeners—teachers and students—
need to learn theoretical frameworks of music’s meaning in order to develop their skills as
creative interpreters.

Frameworks as Tools
When we teach theoretical frameworks for interpreting music, we can view them as tools in
a toolbox. Like I said earlier, I view music as a composite concept, as such, not all of these
tools will be applicable for interpreting every piece of music, but one or two of them, or
perhaps more might apply. Here are some tools that I recommend for your toolbox:

1 Modern aesthetics
2 Terminologies and concepts developed from Western classical music theory
3 Semiotics
4 Critical race, gender, and class theory
5 Hermeneutics
6 Ecological theory
7 Theories of exchange

I work through each of these frameworks below.

Aesthetics is the framework that defines music in terms of it being unified ‘musical work.’
This framework has been great for dissecting music as it is represented on the page, par-
ticularly with Western notation. It has been less great for understanding how the sounds
themselves relate to how listeners construct meanings. Because, based on Hanslick and
Schopenhauer, these so-called ‘extramusical relationships,’ and the meanings therein, are
not aesthetically valuable. Even so, the language that was developed out of that aesthetic tra-
dition, the terminologies and concepts developed in Western classical music theory, can be
useful for communicating about music’s meanings. For example, I use terms and concepts
38  Rebecca Rinsema
from traditional music theory in conjunction with ecological theories to creatively inter-
pret the pop song ‘Clarity.’ By the same token, these are certainly not the only terms and
concepts that are helpful. In fact, sometimes they can be harmful. For example, an over-­
attentiveness to the complexity of harmonic progression can preclude one from understand-
ing the meanings of trance music.
Even though traditional music theory grew up in an era generally disinterested in the
‘extramusical,’ there are a great many scholars in and outside of music who are interested
in this so-called ‘extramusical’ meanings. Indeed, musical sounds can actually work very
specifically, even symbolically, like language does to refer to people, ideas, or things. Such
sounds are said to have semantic meaning. In these cases, the framework of semiotics comes
into play, for example, when a sound or theme comes to represent a character in a story,
like a leitmotif. Relatedly, certain whole sets of sounds, timbres, vocal productions, etc.
can come to be associated with groups of people, ideas, or things, in real life. These sounds
can be used to reinforce and undermine commonly held beliefs about groups of people,
ideas, or things. Here enters the importance of critical theory and theories of gender, race,
and class. Critical theory has a strong relationship to hermeneutics, where anything can be
‘read’ or interpreted as a text. As such even though modern aesthetics might have us believe
music has no meaning in the way that language does, modern hermeneutics suggests that
anything—music, body language, visual images—can be read for meaning. Such readings
come to life based on relationships music and sounds have to a variety of contexts and the
interconnected positionalities of listeners.
Musical sounds also impact us and have meaning for us ecologically speaking. Music is
sound that, up until very recently, has been created by movement. We are attuned to our
environment in such a way that when I hear the thud of a bass drum, for example, I not
only hear it as a sound, but I also hear the motion of that sound, and I hear the space within
which that motion was enacted. Certain sounds, on account of our attunement, provoke
fear and anxiety, or wellness, safety, and security. This is an opening for understanding
how music and sound relate to embodiment and from there interact with the higher order
associations delineated by the other frameworks that I’ve already mentioned. In contrast to
aesthetics, the ecological view highlights listener interactions with the music. This can also
be said for frameworks that theorize music as commodity or as a tool, both of which have
to do with theories of exchange; Adorno and Hebdige among many others theorize music
and sound as commodity and tool within economic and social systems.
This list of tools is a good starting point, but clearly not exhaustive; there is a clear
emphasis here on frameworks from the Western philosophies. Overall, what is important
to keep in mind with these frameworks is that music’s meanings arise because of relation-
ships, relationship between and among the sounds, relationships between the listeners
and the music, relationships between us and our environment, and relationships between
the music and the contexts within which it is heard and presented. And, in using these
frameworks as tools, we can creatively interpret popular music. Such interpretations can
be explored within the classroom for a variety of ends, including song-writing and com-
position, and interpretation in the musician sense. Or, the interpretations can be viewed
as ends in themselves.

Case Study: Clarity by Zedd, ft. Foxes

All of the theoretical frameworks mentioned in the previous section are possible tools for
analysis, but not all of them may apply to every song, group of sounds, or musical work.
The following case study demonstrates how frameworks two and six can be applied to a
pop song.
 Interpretation and Listening  39
The Pop-Drop Form
The traditional popular music form ‘broke’ some scholars contend when the pop-drop form
entered the scene in the 2010s. The pop-drop form was ushered in via EDM re-mixes of
pop songs and refined via EDM/pop artist collaborations. One might argue that the form’s
solidification came when pop artists started utilizing the form independent of EDM collabs.
Year 2016 has been called the year of the pop-drop as about 20% of the billboard hot 100
songs had pop-drops. This is noteworthy and exciting for popular music scholars because
of how long the traditional ‘Verse, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, Bridge, Chorus’ pop form has
dominated—over half a century. While precursors and permutations of the traditional form
have been prevalent throughout these same decades, the vast majority of them retain the
importance of the chorus as the moment of arrival—that’s the part that melodically and
lyrically sticks in your head. But with the pop-drop form, the chorus serves primarily as a
build-up toward an instrumental, bass-driven section—the part that rhythmically sticks in
your body (at least in the listening moment).
The terms ‘tension’ and ‘release’ are often used within the Western Classical music theory
to describe how the harmonies in the traditional form operate in each section of the song
(such terms were originally reserved for classical music; application of them to popular mu-
sic began in the mid-20th century). But, with the pop-drop form, ‘tension’ is often not cre-
ated harmonically, but rather rhythmically. The theoretical language utilized to delineate
these structural moments acknowledges the embodied nature of them; tension and release
are physical and embodied. But, the embodied nature of the pop-drop is generally not at
the forefront of discussions of this form. Here we aim to provide a fuller account of how
embodiment plays out in the pop-drop form using a particular instantiation of it, Clarity by
Zedd, featuring Foxes. Further, we explore the song’s links to everyday spaces and sounds
and agential possibilities in relationship to its ecological affordances. Finally, we explore
how certain actions in the temporal moments of listening can be received and interpreted
as forms of resistance.

Embodiment in Clarity’s Drops

There are four bass drops in Clarity. The first and the third afford a liberation of energy and
movement while the second and fourth afford a continuation of the energy and movement
of the first and third drops. The difference in their affordances is determined by what sonic
elements lead to each of these drops. These leading sonic elements are, together, known as
‘the build toward the drop.’ We will describe how the build toward the first drop affords a
release of physical movement. We will also describe how the build to the third drop plays
with listener expectations, providing an increased sense of liberation when compared to the
first drop. The third drop, thus, affords the highest burst of physical energy from the listener.
The song includes two drop cycles as follows:

Short intro
Cycle 1: First verse, pre-chorus, chorus and simultaneous build, instrumental drop (1),
instrumental/vocal drop (2)
Cycle 2: Second verse, pre-chorus, chorus and simultaneous build, interlude, instru-
mental drop (3), instrumental/vocal drop (4).
Short outro

The sonic elements leading to the first instrumental drop are typical of bass drops in the
pop-drop form; it includes a gradual increase of texture, pitch, and rhythmic division. The
40  Rebecca Rinsema
increase of these three musical elements builds within the listener’s body a pressure of phys-
ical energy that is released when the bass finally drops. In Clarity, the build is as follows.
The verses begin with a single voice, syncopated supporting electronic keyboard chords,
and muted electronic keyboard pulses on the eighths. Manipulated vocal echoes at the ends
of the lyrical phrases imply varied types of reverberant spaces; the eighth note pulses come
to the fore, providing forward momentum between vocal phrases. At 25 seconds, an elec-
tronic, crisp, clean high-hat sound begins marking the main beats—the first main player
in the build. At 40 seconds a timbrally rich wave moves toward the listener and crashes
on the beat with a bright thud signaling the beginning of the pre-chorus. The melody of
the pre-chorus is set higher than the melody of the verses. Foxes sings in her upper chest
voice with a straight tone; this registration and style entails increased physical pressure
on the whole of the vocal cord compared to the registration and style of the verses. At 47
seconds the texture thickens: a counter-melody rich in timbre, men’s voices singing in
unison through tube-like resonant space. At 55 seconds the chorus begins, the straight tone
singing now in the far reaches of the chest voice further increases the vocal cord pressure.
At the same time, the eighth note electronic pulses further divide into 16ths. During the
second phrase and final phrase of the chorus, those pulses come to the foreground, further
dividing into 32nds, while an upward slide sound is heard increasing in pitch. This sliding
sound, characteristic of the final moments of the build, is made in the physical world by
pressing air out of a tube, like a slide whistle. Pressure, pitch, and rhythmic division are at
a breaking point. Listeners’ bodies are ready to explode with energy. And they do, with
the bass finally dropping, and landing on the main beats the male voiced counter-melody
comes to the fore, becoming the primary melody, and a new contrasting counter-melody
emerges composed of ultra-electronic, thin-timbred beeps. This drop section is completely
instrumental, the build and release of physical energy affords dance/movement, which is at
the center of the drop experience.
The build to the third drop is the most climactic, though. While much of this build is
similar to the first, there is one key difference that further builds the pressure. Between the
second chorus and the third drop, there is an interlude, which is texturally thin (a sort of
return to the thin texture of the verses), but thick in timbre. During this section the initial
unison, male-voiced counter-melody (5, 2, 3, 7, 1) repeats in solo fashion. This section
delays the drop, according to listeners’ physical expectations. With each moment of delay,
the pressure that was established in the previous section continues to increase, even though
the texture, pitch, and rhythmic division have all been reduced sonically, their trajectories
continue in the bodies of listeners. As such, this additional section allows this third drop to
afford an even greater release of physical energy than the first.

The Pop-Drop as Play

Generally, the pop-drop, along with many other musical phenomena, can be viewed as a
form of play. The pop-drop plays with everyday physical, bodily experiences and sensations
that exist because of the specific materials human animals have evolved to exist with and
the physical laws that bind them together. The pop-drop is a play on riding on a roller-
coaster, among other things: the ratcheting up that is accompanied by the higher and higher
pitches produced by the machinery, followed by the sort of weightless transition at the top,
where the coaster car shifts from motion up to motion down, and the descent (an actual
drop) and release of that potential energy, that crescendoed in the body during the whole
climb. The increase in pitch and the increased rhythmic divisions within the music link
to the actual increase of pitch that occurs and the increased rhythmic divisions link to the
 Interpretation and Listening  41
potential energy. Another example might be the tea kettle, where molecule speed is linked
(eventually) to a high-pitched wail.
The rollercoaster experience is felt within our bodies, but it’s the result of external forces
acting upon our bodies. Eric Clarke (2005) explores how sonic relationships afford a feeling
of being either inside or outside of the musical space, essentially an affordance of subject
positionality. Along a similar vein, I want to mention how the pop-drop plays with forces
and processes that are part of our bodies. For example, the way an air bubble feels as it makes
its way from the upper digestive tract, to the esophagus, and bursts its way through the
vocal cords to create a loud rumble. The increase of pressure can be likened to the increase
in pitch and rhythmic division within the buildup and low rumble (burp) to the bass. The
buildup of pressure and expectation, followed by an energy release, occurs the same way in
an orgasm. A delay of the energy release often increases it. This is the function of the addi-
tional section located just after verse two functions; it delays the third drop so as to increase
the energy release of it.

Clarity’s Everyday Sounds and Their Musical Meanings

A number of everyday sounds, or stylized versions of them, are heard within Clarity. We
will focus on a pair of sounds that is heard three times, each time at an important structural
moment. The pair of sounds includes a medium- to high-pitched click followed by a fizz
that disperses over five beats. These sounds are heard as each verse begins (there are two
verses), and at the close of the song. In what follows, we explore how these sounds relate to
these structural moments and other sonic elements to create musical meanings.
The song begins with a very curious five seconds that contain sounds associated with the
following traditional instruments: strings, keyboard, and horns. The strings slide from the
second to the first-scale degree to establish tonality. Next, sustained notes of the keyboard
arpeggiate the first, fifth, and seventh scale degrees further solidifying that tonality. Finally,
the horns move from one to five and sustain on six. The click and the fizz interrupt that
resolution. Block keyboard chords replace the arpeggios in support of the melody of the
verse. Gone are the strings and the horns. They won’t return.
On a second or third hearing of the song, these first five seconds indicate an alternative
musical space that the listener quickly departs. But the pair of everyday sounds allows for
that departure to be heard, though less decisively so, even on the first hearing. The smooth
repetitive arpeggios of the keyboard that land right on the beats, grouped in threes, along
with the smooth slide of the violins, and the stable tone of the horns create that alternative
musical space and afford a dream-like mental state. The click and the fizz entail a departure
from that musical space and that mental state, one focused with angular syncopations, lyr-
ics, a singular melody, and, eventually, consistent tapping of crisp high-hat type electronic
sounds. As such this second musical space has evident connections to the title of the song,
Clarity.
Additionally, the click and the fizz sounds themselves reinforce a sentiment of clarity
via their connection to everyday sounds and experiences. The click, together with the
fizz, calls to mind the opening of a can of soda and pouring it into a glass which results in
a release of the carbonation and a similar fizzing sound that dissipates over a few seconds.
Drinking carbonated fluids, like soda or sparkling water, appeals to many people because of
the refreshing, cleansing sensations felt in the mouth and throat. Just like carbonated drinks
provide a sort of physical and mental refresh, the click and fizz sounds provide a musical
refresh. And, such physical and musical meanings become entangled during the listening
experience.
42  Rebecca Rinsema
The second and third instances of the click and fizz occur at structural moments of the
song. The second occurs just after the first and second drop sequence. It is the moment
when the texture suddenly transitions from thick to thin, setting up the second verse. Thus,
the second click and fizz serves as a reset to begin the cycle over again: verse, pre-chorus,
chorus (including build and extra built), drop, drop again. The third, final hearing of the
click and fizz comes right at the end of the song, signaling that there will be no return to
the dream-like musical space, heard during the song’s five second introduction. Read with
the lyrics in mind, this indicates a lack of return from the (simultaneous) chaos and clarity,
characteristic of the romantic relationship at issue.

Agency and Resistance: To Move or Not to Move to Clarity

While the sonic elements of pop-drops afford physical movement in the form of tapping,
nodding, or dancing, among other types of movements, such affordances do not determine
human behavior. Humans, of course, have agency and can choose to move or not. The
choice to move or not to move can signify a variety of messages, depending on the social
context.
I regularly play Clarity for large groups of students in a classroom context. Movement
associated with dancing is not typically associated with the classroom (especially this
one, which crams the students in like sardines, shoulder to shoulder). When listening as
a class, the affordance of movement is so strong that many of the students nod their heads
to the beat, and choose an even more dramatic gesture for each drop moment. Those
who choose not to move are not necessarily viewed as signaling something important,
as the classroom is normally a ‘non-dancing’ zone. But, imagine you are in a club or at
an EDM festival in the middle of the crowd. The social expectation in this context is to
be ‘moved’ by the musical affordances. If you choose to stand still in the middle of the
crowd with no physical movement or reaction to the bass drops, this would be noticed
by members of the crowd, and some might interpret this behavior as a form of resistance
to both the social expectations and the music. The phenomenon I am describing here can
be summed up by a Facebook users’ political party affiliation (back when Facebook en-
couraged such bio information). It read: ‘My political party is the one that stands against
the wall with arms folded at a dance party.’ This quip highlights the agency that listeners
have in choosing their responses to the affordances of a song, group of sounds, or musical
work, which in some contexts can be viewed as resistance. It is exactly this agency that
allows for the kind of interpretive creativity that I have been defining throughout this
chapter.

From Case Study to Classroom

This case study provides significant detail with respect to the ‘content’ of a creative inter-
pretation, which I hope provides readers the sense of the potential for student discovery and
criticality. The case study, however, provides little detail for how teachers should go about
this work in the classroom. I regularly engage my students in interpretive creativity. My
method for doing so largely consists of encouraging students to make observations about
sounds and their associated images and activities as well as their technological, historical,
compositional, and performative contexts, and, furthermore, discussing these observations
in relation to the frameworks. It is helpful if the students are familiar with one or more of
the frameworks, but the method can work without the students having that background
knowledge; I can build from their everyday/embodied knowledge of music and its contexts
that students have developed over the course of their lives.
 Interpretation and Listening  43
If the students do not have knowledge of the frameworks coming into the classroom, as
the facilitator, I fill in the theoretical details and connections as we go. As such, it is very
important that the facilitator has a solid, applied knowledge of the frameworks. To foster
such knowledges, pre-service music educators must be provided opportunities to develop
critical skills in these theoretical areas, along with opportunities to facilitate creative inter-
pretations that necessarily engage with sensitive topics.

Summary
The field of music education has become increasingly inclusive in defining musical creativ-
ity: in identifying the multiplicity of musical practices that are creative. Here, I have identi-
fied how interpretation can be viewed as one of those creative practices. In its endorsement
of a multiplicity of theoretical frameworks, this creative practice challenges the hegemonic
framework of modern aesthetics, invites listeners (students and teachers) to explore how
embodied experiences of sound and music constitute music’s meanings, and opens up the
possibility for music educators to value a variety of creative products in the domain of sound
and music.

Questions for Consideration

1 How does the music video challenge or reinforce the creative interpretation of Clarity
presented in this chapter?
2 Using critical gender theory, how can the music video be interpreted to challenge or
reinforce gender norms?
3 How might this song’s meanings change when heard within the context of a small
social gathering, a club, or on headphones in a gym?
4 How might the ‘Frameworks as Tools’ method be helpful for the beginning improviser/
composer/producer?
5 What values guide your views on what constitutes a creative product in music? How is
the concept of a ‘creative product’ both helpful and unhelpful?
6 What other frameworks might you add to (or might already be in) your toolbox?

References
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tions and dialogues (pp. 177–195). Oxford University Press.
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perspectives on creativity, performance, and perception (pp. 206–219). Oxford University Press.
Barrett, M. (2014). Collaborative creativity and creative collaboration: Troubling the creative imaginary.
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Burnard, P. (2012). Musical creativities in practice. Oxford University Press.
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versity Press.
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5 Re-Thinking Planning for a
Creative Music Curriculum
Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley

Introduction – Rethinking Planning

The notion of planning in music education is relatively undertheorised in England. We
have a number of texts from the USA which offer guidance (inter alia Shaw, 2020; Wacker,
2020, Shorner-Johnson and Moret, 2015), but in England, with the exception of material
intended for pre-service teacher training (Capel, Leask, & Turner, 2009; Fautley & Sav-
age, 2014; Philpott, 2000, 2007; Savage, 2013), the main sources for thinking about music
teacher planning often tend to be governmental documents (e.g. Df E, 2013, 2021). These,
however, tend to involve discussions of what to teach, sometimes how to teach it, but seldom
do they venture to ask questions as to why music should be taught; neither do they normally
address another why question, that of why certain musical things should be taught, and
others should not. This accords with Mantie’s observation that

…Much thinking and planning in music education tends to focus on what seems “prac-
tical” and pragmatic, eschewing deeper questions…
(Mantie, 2019, p. 41)

In England at least, this seems to be a common problem. Planning is required, of course, for
curriculum delivery; this includes long-, medium-, and short-term construction of schemes
of work, and for organising resources. As Ofsted, the arms-length governmental inspection
organisation in England, observed,

School music curriculums set out pathways for progression that enable pupils to develop
their musical knowledge.
(Ofsted, 2021, p. 5)

It is right and proper that this is where school teachers place the greater amount of their cur-
ricular thinking, as the daily production of lesson materials will be what consumes their inter-
actions with each group of children and young people. It is important to note at this juncture
that there are very few methods or text books for music in the lower secondary school, most
teachers create their own plans and schemes themselves. What goes into these teacher plans,
or why certain things are taught, is seldom investigated, as Anderson (2021, p. 722) observes,

Music teacher rationales for the sequencing of the topics they have chosen to include
in their curriculum is an under-developed area of music education research literature.

Indeed, as Anderson (2021, p. 723) goes on to say, ‘Music specialists receive limited oppor-
tunity to develop their thinking in curriculum design’. Planning for a creative curriculum

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-6
46  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
comes under this category, and that is the locus of attention for this chapter, which sets out
to lift the lid on planning, and to problematise these issues, involving the difficult ‘why’
questions, including those of how creativities in classroom music education can be concep-
tualised and operationalised. Whilst the thinking reported here has developed from prac-
tices, and those practices are described in some detail herein, nonetheless we hope that this
chapter is also able to deconstruct planning, and discuss some of its components in order for
it to be reassembled in new, novel, and creative ways. We are taken with a phrase from the
title of this handbook, ‘understanding creativities’, and we wish to contribute to these un-
derstandings, and so not only do we deconstruct, but we also re-imagine, and re-construct,
so that music educators, wherever in the globe they are located, can hopefully re-think their
own curricula in the light of these discussions.

Creative Curriculum – Why This Is an Issue

Music education exists in a variety of forms in and across locations. There is no singular
phenomenon which can account for all of its difference multiplicities. Writing from an
American perspective, Jorgensen (1997, p. 2) observed,

This variety of examples of music education causes us to wonder how it might be de-
fined globally to transcend its traditional equation in the West with music in elemen-
tary and secondary schools.

The fact that there are so many types of music education means that treating them all
as a singularity is concomitantly problematic. The variation in types means that there is
also a variety of approaches, and, within those approaches, an equally wide variety of the
musics that are deemed important or significant enough to be included. We know that
there are hegemonic issues with the contents of music curricula in many places (Fautley,
2021; Spruce, 1999, 2001; Wright, 2017; Wright & Davies, 2010), and it is fundamental
here to observe that the issue of curricula inclusion of topics or musical examples is not
a value-free enterprise. Whilst in some performance-based contexts of music education
it may seem relatively obvious what such a curriculum should involve, nonetheless,
there is far more music than it is possible to include in any time span for teaching and
learning music; what this means therefore is that much more music will be excluded than
included, so any decision to include something automatically excludes whole swathes of
other things.
This include/exclude dichotomy is normally only thought about from the perspective of
what is to be ‘in’, there are few examples of people making decisions about what should be
‘out’. Whilst there can sometimes be tacit, unvoiced, or unthought views about what should
be in, maybe along the lines of Young’s (2016, p. 523) observation that ‘classical music is
superior to popular music’, nonetheless varieties of this notion are to be found in some cur-
ricula constructions. Conversely, there are an increasing number of music educators who
are deliberately and purposefully ensuring that popular styles of music are included in their
curricula. Possibly taking their cue from Green (1988, p. 119) who noted that ‘[e]ducators
who...support pop as opposed to classical music argue that the former is valuable, accessible,
understandable, and relevant to pupils’, such teachers argue that using popular styles of mu-
sic creates ‘[l]earning that is related to the context and not presented as an abstract method
out of context may be more meaningful for the learner’ ( Jaffurs, 2004, p. 196). These are
statements of justifications for teacher decisions for inclusion, but this is not just about pan-
dering to the popular, as Davis and Blair (2011, pp. 125–126) observed, but was about depth
of learning and understanding:
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  47
[P]opular music permeates our lives and the lives of our students. Based on our teaching
experiences in public and private schools in America and abroad, it seems evident that
it is the music most familiar to our students. As music educators, we have both worked
to bring popular music into our music classrooms and have discovered that when given
the opportunity to engage with popular music in school settings, our K–12 (kindergar-
ten to 12th grade) students have demonstrated sophisticated musical understanding that
was previously unknown to us.

A battle that music educators face, at least in England, but probably elsewhere too, is that
curriculum content is seen as a public affirmation of society’s values in a microcosm, and
making such decisions can often be about more than just what is going on in any given
classroom at any given time. But curricula decisions about what styles, types, and genres
to include are not the only matters that are of concern to us here. The notion of a creative
curriculum is an important one too, and the nature and form of such a curriculum, viewed
through the lens of the English school system, is the subject to which we now turn.

Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Curriculum

Music education in England has been in state of flux for a number of years. There is curriculum
of music in school, specialist instrumental and vocal tuition delivered by visiting teachers, music
organisations providing a range of activities on a targeted basis, and independent music teachers
who teach various aspects of music in various domestic and independent settings. In 2011, the
English government outlined a National Plan for Music Education (NPME) to join up provi-
sion across a range of music making and music learning aspects of provision. The plan stated:

The best model for Music Education includes a combination of classroom teaching, in-
strumental and vocal music tuition and input from professional musicians. Partnership
between organisations is the key to success.
(Df E & DCMS, 2011, p. 13)

One of the stated purposes of the NPME was to address what was seen as the problem of
variability of music education in England:

Music education is patchy across the country and change is needed to ensure all pupils
receive a high quality music education.
(Df E & DCMS, 2011, p. 7)

In response to the national plan, in 2014, Youth Music funded ‘Exchanging Notes’, a four-
year action research programme that brought together new partnerships between schools
and music education providers who normally work in out-of-school settings1. The main
aim of the project was:

To ensure that young musicians at risk of low attainment, disengagement or educa-

tional exclusion achieve the best musical, educational and wider outcomes through
participation in a pioneering music education project; and to develop new models of
effective partnership-working between schools and out-of-school music providers.
(Kinsella et al 2019, p. 15)

Prior to Exchanging Notes, Youth Music published Communities of Music Education research
by Saunders and Welch (2012). The aim of this research was to identify how formal and
48  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
non-formal providers work together to ensure quality of access to music education for
children and young musicians. Findings suggested that there are distinct pedagogies em-
ployed in formal versus non-formal music education settings, and those children and young
musicians’ interpretations of the input, output, and outcomes in those contexts differed.
It was suggested that the translation between settings needed more in-depth exploration.
How can these pedagogies join up and what is the impact of this for children and young
musician’s musical engagement?
The Exchanging Notes project and associated research explored this question, and
throughout the four years tensions and dichotomies between various viewpoints of planning
for learning and planning for doing were brought to the fore. There were significant differ-
ences between schools’ approaches when compared with music organisations towards plan-
ning. In the first few years of the project, these dichotomies caused tensions and challenges
for the development of creative learning processes and practices. However, partnerships
managed to navigate these varying perspectives, and through collaboration developed joint
understandings of the role of planning for creativity in a creative and engaging curriculum.

In-School Music Education

The main focus of the Exchanging Notes work took place with secondary school age stu-
dents, which means these were young people in key stages three and four (KS3 and KS4)
aged between 11 and 16. For schools in England, the principal policy driver is the National
Curriculum. In the National Curriculum, music is a compulsory subject. However, over
time the National Curriculum has become increasingly less specific and prescriptive. The
National Curriculum at KS3 (ages 11–14) does not delineate or imply any form of pedagogy
to go with the range of content that is outlined, neither does it specify how the curriculum
should be organised. As a result, a number of different ways of curriculum organisation and
teaching its various aspects have emerged.
A further policy driver impacting school music is the way in which assessment back-
wash can influence teaching and learning. This is where teaching at KS4 (ages 14–16) has
a ­backward-facing effect on what is taught and learned at KS3. Colwell notes the concerns
with this approach stating:

…standards reflect value choices about what is most important for students to learn and
what constitutes mastery of that knowledge. But different constituencies have different
ideas...
(Colwell, 2007, p. 6)

What this can result in is ‘teaching to the test’, which occurs where high-stakes assessment
systems place considerable weight on assessment results. The consequences being a narrow-
ing of the curriculum, and learning opportunities, as teaching becomes focused solely on
final assessment; this is known as ‘assessment backwash’ (Fautley & Colwell, 2012, p.488).
We also know that backwash from KS4 affects curriculum construction back in KS3, which
means that the requirements of aspects of Western classical music required for examination
purposes affects what is taught and learned lower down the school. But it is not just that
Western classical music exerts undue influence upon the curriculum, it is the tacit assump-
tions of value which go with this view. As Spruce and Matthews (2012, p. 119) argue:

Despite the introduction into the music curriculum of music from a much broader
range of musical traditions and cultures than hitherto (including musical traditions and
cultures from within our own society) the musical values inherent in western art music
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  49
continue to be promoted as self-evidently defining ‘good’ music and consequently
‘high status’ musical knowledge, resulting in the alienation of many pupils from the
formal curriculum … despite the introduction into the curriculum of music from other
traditions and cultures to try to address such alienation – the way in which these mu-
sics are typically presented sustains and reinforces rather than counters the western art
music rooted conception of high status music knowledge.

This is one of the issues which we address throughout this chapter.

In the English context, music lessons that take place as a normal part of the school day are
the places where all pupils, regardless of external musical interests or aptitude, encounter
musical teaching and learning. For this reason, it is important that this curriculum con-
struction maximises opportunities for all pupils. This takes us towards a different question,
this being ‘what is the purpose of compulsory music education for all?’. Whilst this form of
questioning has resonances with the discussions of hegemony which we have had so far in
this chapter, and to which we return again later, nonetheless this is a live and problematic
area for many music educators. As Toyne (2021, p. 104) worriedly observes,

Music is perhaps the only school subject where an understanding of its place within
the current educational landscape is essential before one begins to ask what should
be taught and how it should be taught. Teaching classroom music can be a lonely,
bewildering and overwhelming experience, exacerbated by the conflicting opinions
from government ministers, university music departments and professional musi-
cians, let alone the music education world on social media, about the role of music
in schools.

For music teachers in England, this is the daily reality of their lived experience. Thinking
about these issues affects the ways that creativity and creative curricula are conceptualised,
and operationalised. Not only is the music teacher, as Toyne observes, worrying about the
subject’s place in the educational landscape, they are trying to construct valid and meaning-
ful curriculum musical experiences for all their pupils. But, as we observed earlier, it is not
only in schools where music education takes place, and so it is to those aspects of this are
happening away from the classroom that we now turn our attention.

Out-of-School Music Education

In addition to schools and music education hubs,2 there are a range of other organisations
working with children and young people in music in England. In many instances members
of these organisations visit schools and other settings regularly and provide tuition, per-
formance, and composing opportunities in a range of musical activities. Some of these or-
ganisations would classify themselves as community musicians; however, it is important to
note that in the context of Exchanging Notes, the breadth, range, and scope of the research
were such that we were working with more than a reductive notion of ‘community music’.
The organisations were musical and education providers in their own right, with different
areas of foci, different pedagogic traditions and outlooks, and different philosophies and
conceptions of working with schools, hubs, and, importantly, children and young people.
However, whilst it is the case that not all of the organisations self-identified as community
music, or as community musicians, nonetheless it is useful to briefly explore some key as-
pects of community music to help situate the differences in planning between schools and
out-of-school organisations.
Defining ‘community music’ is notoriously problematic, as David Price observed:
50  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
…Community music often defined itself in oppositional terms. We didn’t quite know
what we were, but we were sure that we were not formalized education, nor were we
anything to do with the dominant ideology.
(cited in Bartleet & Higgins, 2018, p. 330)

Higgins observes that there are general characteristics which community music can be said
to involve:

…Community music may be understood as an approach to active music making and

musical knowing outside of formal teaching and learning situations. By formal, I mean
music that is delivered by professionals in schools, colleges, and other statutory organ-
izations through formalized curricula … community music is an intentional interven-
tion, involving skilled music leaders, who facilitate group music-making experiences
in environments that do not have set curricula. Here, there is an emphasis on people,
participation, context, equality of opportunity, and diversity. Musicians who work in
this way seek to create relevant and accessible music-making experiences…
(Higgins, 2012, p. 4)

Measures of success for these organisations are therefore very different to those of schools.
By presenting both the in-school and out-of-school music approach to teaching and
learning we hope to exemplify the differences and the challenges that this project faced.
At the heart of the issue is the development of shared planning processes, which value
the formal and informal. The various individual projects which as a whole made up Ex-
changing Notes needed to engage in open thinking and challenge existing orthodoxies
in order to take giant leaps towards a greater understanding of creativities. In order to
understand the complexities of planning for a creative music curriculum, we will first
explore key notions of creativity in English policy and then their impact on music edu-
cation in England.

Implications for Creativities in Schools

The implications of considerations concerning creativities for music education, both in
and beyond the classroom, that need to be taken into account, also in some cases require a
number of different factors to be reconciled. One of the things we know is that creativities
encompass a range of responses. In the UK, a report by the National Advisory Committee
on Creative and Cultural Education (NACCCE, 1999) was influential in framing stances
on creativity in the classroom, and established into common parlance a number of termi-
nologies now associated with creativity. Chief amongst these were ‘teaching creatively’ and
‘teaching for creativity’. Teaching creatively, they said:

… Involves teachers using imaginative approaches to make learning more interesting,

exciting and effective.
(NACCCE, 2000, p. 6)

Whereas teaching for creativity entails:

…Teachers developing young people’s own creative thinking or behaviour, and in-
cludes teaching creatively.
(NACCCE, 2000, p. 6)
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  51
Whilst music is sometimes thought of as being an inherently creative subject in its own
right in the classroom, nonetheless, there are key competences which learners need to both
acquire, and participate in (Sfard, 1998), in order to make progress. What this entails, in
essence, are the differences between the acquisition of knowledge and skills, what might
be called convergent thinking, and then divergent thinking, or what is often thought of as a
creative response. For learners in music, this means that there are differences between doing
something which is new and creative for them, for example on playing a diatonic xylo-
phone the learner sweeps the beaters up and down the instrument, or constructs a musical
phrase built on playing alternate notes, creating a pattern built on intervals of major and
minor thirds. Whilst the teacher will have heard this many, many times, this is a new and
creative response for the individual child who is making these patterns. As Boden observed:

If Mary Smith has an idea which she could not have had before, her idea is P-creative –
no matter how many people have had the same idea already. The historical sense applies
to ideas that are fundamentally novel with respect to the whole of human history. Mary
Smith’s surprising idea is H-creative if no one has ever had the idea before her.
(Boden, 1990, p. 32)

Although the notion of an idea being original is recognised by many music teachers, it still
needs pointing out that creativity comes in many forms, and is not just for exceptional pupils.
Issues related to understanding creativities and value in the classroom can create dilem-
mas for classroom music educator, because a further series of constructs needs to be over-
laid on these matters of creativity too. These are issues of hegemony and axiology; what is
valued by the society in which the musical learning is taking place, and what is privileged,
overtly or tacitly, in the curriculum being delivered.

Creativities, Hegemony, and Axiology

In the UK and elsewhere there is a long-standing issue as to what should be taught and
learned in classroom music lessons (inter alia Benedict & Schmidt, 2012; Spruce & Mat-
thews, 2012; Toyne, 2021). The place of what can be termed ‘classical music’ as a shorthand
has been central to these discussions for many years. As German music education researcher
Kertz-Welzel observes:

There have been various music education approaches promoting classical music as the
core content of music education, describing its value and meaning for students. Some
powerful attempts at securing the place of classical music in schools happened at a time
when popular music became more important for young people, particularly in the
1960s and 1970s. Music teachers needed a rationale for ‘saving’ their students from the
immorality that was supposedly promoted in popular music and from manipulations of
the music industry.
(Kertz-Welzel, 2020, p. 81)

Back in the 1970s British musicologists Shepherd et al (1977) were writing about similar
issues when they entitled their book Whose Music. For children and young people in schools
today these issues continue. Indeed, a common problem for classroom music is squaring the
axiological requirements of that which they are required to teach, with what they feel would
be appropriate for their pupils to learn. What this means is that the school music classroom
becomes a place where these contestations are played out on a daily basis.
52  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
What is true in the school music classroom, however, can be less so in out-of-school set-
tings. Freed from curricular restraints, whether these are real, perceived, or involve taken-
for-granted assumptions, music organisations working with the at-risk youngsters described
herein were at liberty to devise programmes which could begin with the interests of the par-
ticipants concerned, and then take the young people on to progress in directions of their own
choosing. Creativity for the individual young people involved in Exchanging Notes here
arose from their musical journeys; this means that where the young people needed to know
or be able to do things, this was addressed as and when appropriate. There was no set curric-
ulum and no formal assessments. This is a very different way of working from the classroom.
But does it need to be? This is now explored in this chapter in terms of partnership working.

So, What Does This Mean for Partnership Work?

One of the key aspects of Exchanging Notes was to explore the interrelationships in and
between various typologies of music education as it happens in schools, and those used by
non-school–based music education providers. As has been noted in previous sections, one
of the issues with regard to music in English schools and the National Curriculum that is
in operation in them is the apparent curricular emphasis on the ‘canon’ of Western classical
music. This can mean that despite attempts of the education establishment to devise a syl-
labus which presents music as a subject for all, it can end up serving only a few, and can be
perceived by some pupils as being elitist, and by others as being insufficiently challenging
(Wright, 2002, p. 240). However, in contrast, the movement in music education towards
informal and non-formal styles of music teaching and learning has been expanding through
such work as that of community music, and championed by Lucy Green (2002; 2008) who
emphasises the importance of student-centred pedagogy. Unlike school-based music educa-
tion that chooses the material to be studied, breaks it down, then delivers the skills needed
to achieve set attainment outcomes, informal learning practitioners support personalised
learning objectives set by each individual learner themselves.
This presents an important distinction, that of planning for learning, which of necessity
takes place in advance of lessons and learning encounters, and planning by knowing that the
teacher or session leader will need to react as learning unfolds. This is explored in greater
detail by Folkestad:

…The basic criteria of formal and informal learning situations found in the literature
might be briefly described as follows. In the formal learning situation, the activity is
sequenced beforehand. That is, it is arranged and put into order by a ‘teacher’, who also
leads and carries out the activity. However, that person does not necessarily have to be
a teacher in the formal sense, but a person who takes on the task of organising and lead-
ing the learning activity, as, for example, one of the musicians in a musical ensemble.
Moreover, this position does not have to be static, although this is commonly the case.
The informal learning situation is not sequenced beforehand; the activity steers the
way of working/playing/composing, and the process proceeds by the interaction of the
participants in the activity. It is also described as ‘self-chosen and voluntary learning’.
However, as learning can never be ‘voluntary’ in its true sense – it takes place whether
or not it is intended or wanted…what is in view may rather be described as self-chosen
and voluntary activity.
(Folkestad, 2006, p. 141)

We want to emphasise here is that there is not a simplistic division of pedagogies with clas-
sical equalling formal and pop being informal. Instead, as Saunders and Welch (2012) noted,
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  53
what has occurred in schools can be characterised in two main ways, first the performativity
agenda has tightened its grip, and, second, Music Education’s position in schools has become
increasingly endangered. These two issues have had and are continuing to affect the ways in
which classroom music teachers in secondary schools both conceptualise and operationalise
their day-to-day practices, with creativity and creative process often being put aside.
So far in this chapter we have considered a range of the issues that are affecting the
construction of curricula in England, along with the ways in which working with young
people using non-formal modalities can have beneficial effects. We now move to a more
detailed disentangling of these various strands with respect to the ways in which rethinking
planning for a creative curriculum can be effected, and what this entails.

Research Methodology
The study reported on here used a mixed-methodology approach, including lesson ob-
servations, interviews, and perception surveys, with teachers, music leaders, and young
people, as well as statistical analysis of young people’s attainment and attendance. These
methods offered insight into educational development, practice, and pedagogy through
gathering multiple perspectives to understand the backdrop of the wider socio, eco-
nomic, political, and historical nature of learning contexts (Engeström 1999). For this
chapter, we have chosen to focus on the interview data with the in-school teachers and
the outside-of-school music organisation music leaders, as they provided rich narratives
of experience. This is important for this book as it is through examining these voices
that we gain insight into the steps they had to take to develop new creative planning
processes. Interviews were conducted three times per year, over four years, with 61
music leaders and teachers, 45 young people, and 8 head teachers and music hub leads.
In a study that explored partnership, it was important to understand factors that contrib-
uted to thought, action, and the construction of meaning. Therefore, a modified action
research cycle (Carr & Kemmis 1986) was chosen. This posed an interesting methodo-
logical variant, in that the results of the research fed back directly into project practices.
The data were also debated and critiqued at two annual research meetings, which all
projects and funders attended. The project was approved by Birmingham City Univer-
sity ethical board.

Findings
The success criteria which the various stakeholders in music education hold are very dif-
ferent, and this had the potential for creating tensions. In schools, it is attainment and
progress that are key indicators of successful outcomes. For music organisations, however,
there was a very different imperative, what mattered was engagement. Achieving engage-
ment was something that needed to be worked at, and so music organisations were less
concerned with delivery, assessment, and progress, and more with individual children and
young people being involved in what was going on. What this meant for Exchanging Notes
participants is that they were all coming to the various projects with different ‘baggage’,
different thoughts about what constituted success, and different views as to the primacy of
attention for creativities. These underlying paradigms were frequently implicit in both the
teachers’ and music leaders’ practices, and this tacit implicitness sometimes caused friction.
Some teachers were unable to understand why music organisations did not seem overly
concerned with learning and progression, and some music organisations could not see why
schools were so bothered about planning and attainment, when what mattered for them was
getting children and young people involved in engagement. It was the reconciling of these
54  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
views that became one of the powerful factors of Exchanging Notes, when the teachers and
music leaders took on board characteristics from the other. Indeed, this led to more creative
pedagogical processes within the classroom.

Rethinking Planning Mechanisms

The first step in this process involved reconsidering planning. Medium- and long-term
planning was not something that the majority of music organisations had considered, or
needed to do previously, compared with teachers, who are monitored by schools on their
planning and classroom objectives. However, through collaboration new planning processes
emerged. School planning process were often highly controlled, this reduced spaces for cre-
ativities due to imposed intentionality outlined by school measurements. Often school and
classroom planning would be content-oriented, producing curriculum documents that pre-
scribed in detail what educational content teachers could address during educational work,
how much time they could spend on each item, and what activities they could perform.
However, in this quote we can see how, over time, these processes changed:

The work put in to creating equity, a sense of equity between leaders and kids cannot
be underestimated. It has taken us, I would say, near the whole time of the project, four
years, to reach a point where I think we listen to the kids, take account of the demands
of the curriculum but also are informed and led by the non-formal approach of the
music leader.
(Music Teacher)

The conditions for a successful new methodology for curriculum planning needed to be
carefully considered. Part of the new planning process was the inclusion and involvement
of young musicians to ensure that curriculum accounted for their needs, interests, and de-
velopment. This provided a safeguard against exclusion of both musical genres and ways
of being. Importantly, it was not a matter of the dichotomies between formal, non-formal,
informal, and pedagogy, but creative knowledge building:

…Because we were talking about their music and music they want to do and the music
we’re bringing to them. They were like ‘Yeah, the music is OK but we want to do our
own’. They’re included in the decision making for what happens in the sessions. They
have to have a voice in it and they have to have some say in what is going on. Without
that, it’s a bit empty. You can make it prescriptive if you feel like it, but it’s not neces-
sarily going to suit.
(Music Leader)

Although school planning and curriculum can often appear to reduce time for creativi-
ties in the classroom, it is also the case that music organisations can sometimes be overly
concerned with a final performance outcome, and task engagement, and not consider the
long-, mid-, and short-term outcomes for learning, including the development of creativi-
ties over time. With this in mind, the various projects had to consider what they perceived
as the framework for creative development. This often started with teacher and music leader
identifying their creative processes in collaboration with one another and then negotiating
a way forward:

…The creative process is, seems to be being negated in favour of a very top down ed-
ucational process. I think creativity for us is about access and I think its access to the
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  55
tactile feeling of something, the tactile experiential kind of process of absorbing infor-
mation that happens through a creative action.
(Music Leader)

I think throughout the project we have both observed creative approaches from each
other and also talked about it in reflections. I think for me it has enabled me to take
more risks, to try things out and not worry as much if it doesn’t go to plan. But I think
you also have to bring the kids on that journey otherwise they might feel that they have
failed. But that’s also part of the process, knowing that failing is not necessarily a bad
thing but how you move on from that.
(Music Teacher)

In light of these discussions, the projects began to rethink the possibilities and spaces within
curriculum and planning for creative processes:

With Key Stage 3, there’s no reason why it should be so rigid. That’s the choice of that
school. You need to give them the core skills to be able to do GCSE if they want to
do it, but actually it doesn’t need to be that rigid. I think what we have done is more
creative and we have really thought about the best way of getting them (the learners) to
understand that music is a creative process.
(Music leader)

Burnard (2012) suggests that teachers are ‘creativity generators’, and this was evident in
Exchanging Notes. The notion of ‘generator’ is important here as it does not mean that
teachers or music leaders defined outcomes, or even creative processes, but instead helped to
generate creative possibility for the pupils. Woods (1995) has previously stated that during
creative learning pupils have control over their learning processes, and ownership of the
knowledge produced, which is relevant to their concerns. This highlights the centrality
of the pupil in the development of creativity, where emphasis is on the process of learning
rather than the creative output. This is a process of creative negotiation which became ev-
ident in the practices of the projects:

In the creative process you’re not only responding to your own instincts but you’re also
having to then negotiate the pupils’ instincts.
(Music Leader)

And this is noted by the young musicians, as expressed here:

…So (music leader) would like never like take control of it, they would like give us like
tips and advice on how to like write about it and like tell us to think back on what it’s
about and then if we got stuck they would help us, like it’d all flow again and then if
we were ever struggling we could just ask them what could do with it so we could put
it in and then we’d make up the rest of it.
(Young Musician)

Within Exchanging Notes the significance of creative and responsive relationships between
teacher, music leader, and pupil was integral. The teachers and music leaders began to
change their perception of their responsibility from defined outputs, either assessment or
engagement led, towards one of encouraging pupils to become more creative individuals.
This was further discussed in a conversation between the researcher and a young musician:
56  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
RESEARCHER: What does being creative mean to you?
YOUNG MUSICIAN: I think it’s like creating stuff from scratch and building up the process
and trying to make it better. Not always getting it right but just trying something out
and seeing.
RESEARCHER: Do you think you’re doing that with the music you’re creating?
YOUNG MUSICIAN: Yeah. We’re progressing every time we’re going along. You just get to
try things out and see, and then either go with that or not. It’s fun and sometimes not
so serious too, like, you get time to just play.

When a relationship of reciprocal acceptance and respect was developed, an affective and
pedagogical bond was established. This created a creative atmosphere for teaching and
learning:

I think it’s about that fluidity between doing and learning, through making, learning
through thinking and thinking through learning. It’s that kind of fluidity that’s maybe
a little lacking in school.
(Music Leader)

These new planning and development processes also meant that assessment became more
than a simple input-output modality; as Finney (2006, p. 2) notes it is ‘far beyond the at-
tainment of task criteria, for completing a task in itself irrelevant to what I am thinking of
as a richer learning’. It included the creative impact of music making, alongside the social
and cultural:

I guess, because of the rigidity of a system which is so based around structure and evalu-
ation and valuing through a marker system, there actually is a freedom that comes with
young musicians with being part of something which is not based around that kind of
system. Oh, you got a C, you got an A, you got a merit, and you got a distinction. You
know, it becomes much more about a personalised journey and the value that comes
from the self and, therefore, it becomes about you.
(Music Teacher)

Discussion – Hegemonically Valorised Creativity

What we see in the different types of music education described is that multiple simultane-
ous creativities are in operation here. The creativity of the young person, the creativity of
the approach, the creativity of planning in a novel way, and the creativity of interpersonal
music making. All of these creativities are, however, in the instances we are describing, sub-
sumed within a reified notion which treats these variegated creativities as a sort of gestalt.
Indeed, what could be said is that it is as though there is a thing-in-itself, Kant’s ding an sich,
which might be labelled as hegemonically valorised creativity. What this means is that in some
instances – classroom music education being a case in point here – the hegemonic valorisa-
tion of the school music education approach is conferred by induction into understandings of
Western art music and its canon. For those involved in what might loosely be termed more
community music-focused projects, no such hegemonic valorisation took place. Instead the
music leaders were more concerned with developing with the children and young people
a capacity for making the sorts of music that would potentially engage at their own level,
and utilise this as a way of working. A potentially oversimplistic but nonetheless valid way
of looking at these issues would be to say that a hegemonically valorised creativity based on
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  57
canonic induction works on participants, whereas a hegemonically valorised creativity based
on more community music principles works with the young people. Of course, this over-
simplistic and reductive perspective will cause concerns in some quarters, but even so it is
worth considering what the purposes of any music education system are, and this will be but
one of the items to think about in that regard, a point which we amplify later in this chapter.
It is important to note that this distinguishing of creativities is not intended to create a
hierarchy of valorisation, both are equally valid; as one of the definitions of creativity states,
creativity can be thought of as being: ‘[i]maginative activity fashioned so as to produce
outcomes that are both original and of value’ (NACCCE, 1999, p.30). What this means is
that the value of a creative activity leading to a creative product is situated in what might be
termed the ‘rules’ of the community of practice concerned. Clearly a creative output for a
string quartet is going to involve different parameters from a creative output for a dubstep
track. Indeed, the purposes of the music education to arrive at each of these may not be
isomorphic, and in the examples discussed in this chapter it was also the purposes of the
intervention that were different as well.
What this means for the notion of a hegemonically valorised creativity is that there are
actually different valorisations placed on creativities depending upon the context. Indeed,
as we have just observed, axiology of these various creativities is very much dependent
upon what the purposes of the creative act are understood to be. Thus a creative response
to a composer being commissioned to write a string quartet, for example, is unlikely to
be satisfied by that composer baking a cake. This seems so obviously silly an example that
some may consider it ludicrous, but ‘ludicrous’ has ludic as its root, and ludic is concerned
with playfulness. But, and this is an important point, this playfulness has to be of the correct
situationally dependent sort. The originators of the art movement of Dada saw this, simi-
larly aleatoric music, dependent on the throw of a dice is ludic, but an audience expecting
to hear a performance of Beethoven’s Appassionata piano sonata do not expect the pianist
to arrive with a cut-up set of musical notes that they play in any order that they feel like on
the night; or, as the great English comedian Eric Morecambe observed of his own perfor-
mance of the Grieg Piano Concerto in a 1971 humorous television sketch, ‘I’m playing all
the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order’! The hegemonic axiology therefore
is situation and context dependant, and so curriculum construction needs to bear this in
mind. Creativities need to be thought of with relation to this notion.

Discussion
Given what we have just said, it may seem like an oxymoron to discuss planning for a crea-
tive curriculum, as pre-legislation of creative activity solely as divergent is unlikely to yield
useful or beneficial outcomes. What we are saying instead is that rethinking what school and
extra-school curricula involve means taking a fresh stance on what has gone before, and then
thinking about re-positionings, re-purposings, and re-planning in the light of these. For class-
room music education in schooling, as is the case in England, the National Curriculum is very
careful to avoid repertoire; it is about musicality, taking this as a starting point, rather induction
into a canon, whether that is the canon of Western art music, or the canon of pop music, of
contemporary rock, or jazz, or whatever. This also speaks to Wallin’s observation that:

...The task of contemporary curriculum theorizing has only begun to imagine a style
of thought capable of encountering the curriculum in terms of its unthought, non-­
identitarian potentials…
(Wallin, 2011, p. 286)
58  Victoria Kinsella and Martin Fautley
What we are suggesting in the notion of rethinking is that it is these as yet unthought po-
tentials that would be beneficial for music educators. Thinking the unthought may seem
to be another oxymoron, is fraught with problems, and is no easy task for the often solitary
classroom music teacher; yet music moves on, performance practices change and progress,
and new compositions and new ways of thinking about composing are to be found. It is
against this backdrop that rethinking planning for a creative curriculum seems to be the
first step in creating a music education for the present and the future, not just recreating
the past.

Conclusion
This chapter has discussed an intervention programme in England which was designed for
young people ‘at risk’ of low attainment, disengagement, or educational exclusion. What
transpired, and has been discussed, are ways in which this raised a number of questions
concerning music education, its uses and purposes, and the values held systemically and by
music education professionals working in a variety of contexts within that system. It has
proposed that it is essential to develop shared planning processes that work for the agendas
of both in-school and out-of-school providers. By opening up dialogue and constructive
critique between providers, new creative planning processes were developed that allowed
young people, teachers, and music leaders to flourish creatively. Key to this is offering
teachers, music leaders, and young people a high degree of agency and autonomy, making
less use of prescriptive external mechanisms; relying instead on teachers’ and music leaders’
professional expertise and abilities.
Hopefully it will be of interest to an international readership as it asks fundamental ques-
tions of what music education is for, and who benefits from it.

Questions for Consideration

1 In your context, are you able to say what the purposes of classroom music education
are? Are there, as described in this chapter, competing issues at stake which may need
reconciling at the various points of delivery?
2 What creativities are we educating for in classroom music education? Definition?
3 One of the teachers in this study, cited in the text above, said: ‘the work put in to
creating equity, a sense of equity between leaders and kids cannot be underestimated’.
Does this have resonances in the ecology of the school system in your country? Music
education system in which you work? Is there equity, or is there a power imbalance?
Why is this? Should there be? Does it matter?
4 What hegemonic assumptions impact music in your context? For example, in this
chapter Western classical music held great value in music education classroom and the
curriculum. What ways could you begin to challenge these assumptions and create
opportunities for young people’s voice? How would this affect potential rethinking the
curriculum in your context?
5 In what ways do you plan for creativity? Do you offer learners the opportunity to en-
gage in the planning process? Do you offer space and time for creativities?

Notes
1 Details of the exchanging notes project can be found at https://youthmusic.org.uk/exchanging-notes,
and the full project report is to be found at https://www.bcu.ac.uk/education-and-social-work/
research/birmingham-music-education-bmerg/research-projects/youth-music-exchanging-notes.
 Re-Thinking Planning for a Creative Music Curriculum  59
2 In England, “Music Education Hubs are groups of organisations – such as local authorities, schools,
other hubs, art organisations, community or voluntary organisations – working together to create
joined-up music education provision, [and] respond to local need…” (Arts council, n.d.)

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6 Playing with Freedom
A Reimagining of Play and Imagination in
Vocal Music Education
Kexin Xu

The art of teaching students how to sing is a notoriously complex process because not
only does it involve dealing with muscle tension and technical difficulties that are difficult
to see, but it is also highly personalized because everyone is physiologically, vocally, and
emotionally unique (Doscher, 1994; Sundberg, 1977). Play has been recognized for its con-
tribution to learning, particularly at the elementary level (Noddings, 2004); moreover, it is
a widespread strategy in helping students to cope with the complexity of learning how to
sing, in large part because it informs imagination. For example, when voice teachers teach
students how to access their head voice, sometimes they ask students to imagine that they
are little doggies and to imitate their sound, and sometimes they ask students to play a car-
toon character that speaks with a high voice. However, the use of play in the cultivation of
imagination in vocal music education becomes problematic when teachers rely on confined
definitions of play. For example, when singing students try to understand abstract meta-
phors or interpret emotions that are not part of everyday life, teachers sometimes expect
students to imagine in a certain way or impose their own imagination onto students during
play. Not only do expectations and external impositions limit students’ intellectual capac-
ity of imagining, but they also create emotional anxiety as students try to meet teachers’
expectations and conform their understanding of images and metaphors to what they feel
a teacher wants.
Numerous philosophers including John Dewey (1970), Plato (1967), and Mary Reichling
(1990; 1997) have discussed the concept of play from various perspectives. Specifically,
Reichling (1997) referenced Johan Huizinga’s definition of play as a “multifaceted phe-
nomenon” that informs imagination and empowers individualized learning experiences
(p. 43). However, Reichling (1997)’s argument regarding the function of play in imagina-
tion neglected to address a salient element in play. Given the lack of understanding about
how play functions in relation to imagination, the purpose of this philosophical inquiry is
to investigate what play is and how it may contribute to the cultivation of imagination in
vocal music education. Drawing largely on the work of Mary Reichling (1997), I begin by
providing an overview of the definition of play and how philosophers have explained the
role of play in education. Next, I problematize Reichling’s definition of play as it relates to
imagination. Finally, I propose a new understanding of play and explore how playing with
freedom might inform singing teachers’ use of Reichling’s three types of imagination in the
field of vocal music education.

The Role of Play in Education

Play has been a central topic discussed by multiple philosophers. According to John Dewey
(1970), play is described as “A name given to those activities which are not consciously per-
formed for the sake of any result beyond themselves; activities which are enjoyable in their

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-7
62  Kexin Xu
own execution without reference to ulterior purpose” (p. 230). Similarly, in her informal
learning pedagogy, Lucy Green (2008) referred to the educational psychologist Jerome
Bruner and stated that in play, there is a lack of concern with “getting it right” (p. 58). As
Green (2008) explained,

The educational psychologist J.S. Bruner suggested that ‘engagement in play involves
reduction of the consequences of error of failure’ (1979, p. 57). Although it is a serious
activity for the child, play is ‘without frustrating consequences’ (Bruner 1983, p. 91),
and does not involve an excessive attachment to accurate or correct results.
(p. 59)

Dewey and Green both emphasized the importance of process in play as well as separating
play from concerns about consequences. When engaging in play, the process is more valu-
able than the product. Students can focus on the process of doing the activity and having a
joyful learning experience without having to concern consequences of failure.
The role of play in education has also been discussed in the philosophy of Plato. Accord-
ing to Ardley (1967), Plato paralleled the qualities of play with games, which is a timeless
enjoyment that excludes “competitiveness” and the “over-eagerness” to win (p. 161). As Ar-
dley (1967) stated: “A game at its best is something played for love, for its own sake” (p. 161).
Ardley (1967) further elaborated that there are no “compulsion” or “necessity” because the
essence of play is in “spontaneity” (p. 161). Like Dewey and Green, Plato understands play
as encompassing the element of joy as well as the exclusion of attachment to the outcome;
however, Plato adds that play embodies the quality of spontaneity that results from intrinsic
motivation, which is the love of the activity for its own sake. For example, a teenage boy
plays video games because the desire of playing the game is internal rather than coming
from external impositions or forces. His goal might not necessarily be winning the game
but to play simply for the love and joy of playing the game.
However, Mary Reichling (1997) drew on the work of Johan Huizinga to define play as
a “multifaceted phenomenon” (p. 43). According to Reichling (1997), play can be used both
as a verb and as a noun as well as be employed literally and figuratively without distinction.
Reichling (1997) referred to Dewey’s perspective of play “being a mental attitude rather
than mere amusement” and described that play “may include, but is not limited to physical
activity” (p. 43). For example, musicians play instruments; the audience goes to the theatre
to watch a play, and readers enjoy the play of words in poems (Reichling, 1997). Moreover,
drawing on Huizinga’s perspective that play is highly related to human experiences such as
culture, language, and cognition, Reichling (1997) suggested that play experiences could
be interpreted by anyone through their own lens according to individual differences. By
emphasizing this multifaceted nature of play, Reichling implies that play is inherently indi-
vidual and therefore has the potential to offer divergent and distinctive experiences.
In short, play focuses on the salience of process as well as embodies spontaneity. Students
intrinsically enjoy the learning experience and love doing the activities without having
to worry about any consequences during play experiences. Furthermore, play is a “multi-
faceted phenomenon” that enables highly personalized as well as meaningful experiences
constructed by each individual according to their own learning differences.
Based on her definition of play, Reichling (1997) further analyzed the function of im-
agination in play experiences and described how play informs imagination. Reichling cat-
egorized imagination into three different types. She names the initial level of imaginative
development as fantasy or magical imagination, which involves imagination arising as mag-
ical things that “do not necessarily exist in the real world” (Reichling, 1997, p. 44). For
example, an actor may talk and act like a king in a castle; play informs fantasy imagination
 Playing with Freedom  63
by allowing it to function in a way that is productive rather than reproductive (Reichling,
1997). The second type of imagination in play is named literal imagination, which involves
viewing objects as “they exist in concrete, observable reality, not as magically transformed”
(Reichling, 1990, p. 288). In musical experience, literal imagination facilitates learning
musical knowledge and skills that are governed by rules such as music notation and symbols
(Reichling, 1997). For example, when musicians see the musical symbol of crescendo, they
would be able to recognize crescendo and know its meaning, but each musician may choose
to interpret or represent crescendo differently (Reichling, 1997).
The third type of imagination discussed by Reichling (1997) is named metaphorical or
paradoxical imagination, which is to “present a certain image or vision of one thing and
impose it on something else as a kind of transformation of what is present” (p. 46). For ex-
ample, voice teachers often ask students to imagine the body as a big balloon that is filled
with air during the act of inhalation. Students recognize the literal untruth of the instruc-
tion, but the tension between recognizing the literal untruth and accepting the metaphor
enables students to search for the underlying truth of the instruction (Reichling, 1997). Ac-
cording to Reichling (1997), play informs imagination because it allows an infinite number
of possibilities as well as the acceptance of what might otherwise be considered “foolish” or
“absurd” in ordinary life (p. 47).

Limitations of Reichling’s Definition of Play

Although Reichling defined play as a “multifaceted phenomenon,” her definition of play as
it relates to imagination is rather constrained. First, while Reichling addressed the impor-
tance of “possibility” in play that informs fantasy and metaphorical imagination, she did not
provide the mechanisms that enable play to foster possibility in the cultivation of these two
types of imagination. Neglecting to discuss what enables play to foster possibility is prob-
lematic because it creates limitations in terms of how fantasy imagination and metaphorical
imagination may function during play.
According to Reichling (1997), fantasy imagination in play embraces possibility, and play
informs fantasy imagination because it makes it possible for one to view imagination that
is not merely a representation of a perceivable world. For example, composers write works
that they have never heard before in reality, conductors might suggest new interpretations
of a piece, and opera singers give life to fictional characters in a drama (Reichling, 1997).
It is arguably true that Reichling is suggesting that it is the element of “possibility” that
resides in play that enables fantasy imagination to function the way it does in play expe-
riences. However, because fantasy imagination might still be constrained in play without
the mechanism that allows or enables “possibility,” it is problematic to assume that play
automatically enables “possibility.” For example, in a play experience, it is possible for me
to imagine myself as a cat in a short story; however, I might still be confined by my limited
images of the animal and the stories that I have heard before.
Furthermore, in Reichling’s discussion of metaphorical imagination in play experiences,
she explained perception as “seeing as” or “hearing as” and described that the way meta-
phorical imagination functions in play is to “present a certain image or vision of one thing
and impose it on something else as a kind of transformation of what is present” (Reichling,
1997, p. 44). Reichling implies that play makes it possible to figuratively or metaphorically
imagine X as Y; for example, a shampoo bottle may become a microphone, and the human
body may become a balloon. However, what in play enables the possibility of imagining X
as Y is again left unexplained. Absent a mechanism that enables or allows the possibility of
imagining X as Y, metaphorically or figuratively “seeing as” or “hearing as” might still be
constrained and limited in play experience.
64  Kexin Xu
Reichling’s description of how literal imagination functions during play is even more
problematic because it seems to contradict her stance on the importance of “possibility” in
play. Initially, she stated that ordinary life is merged with the functions of imagination in
the experience of play because “unlike in ordinary life, in play, almost anything is possible
as one suspends disbelief and accepts that which, outside the play experience, might be
labeled as foolish or absurd” (Reichling, 1997. p. 47). This suggests that play experiences
allow the possibility of extensive experiments that might not be possible to be experienced
in ordinary life. After that, Reichling (1997) elaborated:

On the other hand, toys are selected with some interest in their relationship to observ-
able, recognizable structures. Even the broomstick bears some similarity to a horse; yet
ambiguity is present as well. Imitation necessarily connects to the real, as in playing
house or playing school where recognized elements of perceivable, ordinary life are
brought into the play experience and mingled with fantasy and other functions of the
imagination.
(p. 47)

In the previous quotation, Reichling was claiming that play enables the imagining of the “fool-
ish” and “absurd”; nevertheless, here she is stating that imagination is connected to the “real”
and relates to the “observable structures” of objects in reality. By “connecting to the real” as
well as “relating to the observable structure of objects in reality,” Reichling limits the possibility
of imagining the “foolish” and “absurd” during play experiences. For example, when students
learn the music symbol of f or forte and try to transform or transcribe the symbol into something
meaningful to them, play experiences should give students a chance to “mess” with the learn-
ing of the symbol through which they could understand and interpret forte in a way that is the
most meaningful to them. Since vocal technique and expression are specific to each individual,
students would be allowed to choose to understand and sing forte in a way that feels vocally
comfortable and emotionally connected to each individual. Therefore, making a connection to
the “real” and relating to the “observable structure” as Reichling suggested might potentially
minimize the chances and possibilities of experimenting the “foolish” and “absurd.”
In short, Reichling explained that imagination can involve fantasizing the non-existent,
visualizing the metaphor of X as Y, and transforming concrete objects. However, when Re-
ichling discussed how play informs imagination, it seems problematic not to provide what
mechanism within play enables the possibilities of the three types of imagination. I wonder:
would imagination function differently apart from play experiences? How specifically does
play inform the three different types of imagination in vocal music education?

Reimagining Play in Relation to Music Education

In extending Reichling (1997)’s definition of play, which is a “multifaceted phenomenon”
that integrates the mental and physical (p. 43), I propose understanding play as a concept
that embodies freedom. In other words, the quality that sets play apart from other experi-
ences, and the mechanism that enables “possibility” discussed by Reichling as well as “joy”
and “spontaneity” mentioned by Dewey and Plato to function in play are freedom. What
do I mean by freedom? I suggest understanding freedom as the absence of physical, psycho-
logical, and emotional constraints on choices and actions. When one has freedom, it means
that the body, mind, and emotions are not restricted or controlled by external factors. As
freedom involves looking beyond preset standards and expectations, it can be interpreted
from the perspectives of free from and free to in the context of play in relation to music edu-
cation (Richerme, 2019, p. 8).
 Playing with Freedom  65
Freedom in play experiences could be understood as free from expectations in vocal music
education. The product-oriented teaching philosophy and approach common in today’s
education system overshadows the importance of learning processes and establishes high
expectations. Having high expectations means to have a belief that someone should achieve
a certain goal or achieve a goal in a certain way. While having high expectations for stu-
dents could be one source of motivation for greater accomplishment, there are also disad-
vantages. Students might be psychologically and physically confined by having to meet
others’ expectations and miss out on the opportunity and possibility of exploration during
the process. For example, when students are trying to produce a certain vocal quality or
timbre based on the pure aesthetic preferences of their teachers, they are missing out on the
great opportunity to discover their own unique vocal quality that only belongs to them.
In addition, high expectations may have a negative effect on students’ emotions, possibly
leading students to feel frustration, anger, and disappointment. For example, when students
try very hard to meet teachers’ expectations of producing a certain type of vocal quality
based on teachers’ aesthetic preferences, they might be emotionally hurt when they discover
that they were not able to meet what they were expected to accomplish at the moment. Be-
cause the singer’s body is their instrument and that they often tie the act of singing to their
identity, students might feel frustrated with themselves, which might lead to diminished
self-worth. Would students want to come back to play if it is associated with negativity such
as being confined by having to meet others’ expectations and experiencing frustration and
a loss of self-worth?
However, when expectations are absent from educational environments and learning
processes, it redirects the focus from “product” to “process” by allowing students to explore
divergent possibilities. Play then becomes an attitude of freedom that is free from subordi-
nation, and its energy is redirected to the process or activity itself (Allsup, 2016, p. 88). For
example, with a sufficient amount of guidance from singing teachers, students are enabled
to explore healthy vocal production as well as the most beautiful and resonant vocal timbre
that is distinctive to each individual. Furthermore, the absence of expectations could also
minimize the negative consequences of failure, which contributes to the cultivation of a
joyful experience that avoids potential emotional damage to students. A truly joyful sing-
ing experience can lead to increased intrinsic motivation for singing as well as improving
students’ self-worth.
Another interpretation of freedom in play experiences is free from imposition in vocal
music education. Sometimes teachers use play during convergent as opposed to divergent
activities. Understandably, the responsibility of being a teacher might involve situations in
which teachers order what students should do in order to keep a classroom safe; however,
ordering students or imposing a great deal of teachers’ perspectives would not be the ideal
scenario during play. The act of imposition shares similarities with the “banking teaching
system” that Paulo Freire (2000) critiqued. In the banking teaching system, the teachers
are viewed as the most knowledgeable and authoritative; the students are considered igno-
rant and are trained to passively accept any knowledge and information imposed on them
by the powerful teachers (Freire, 2000). Thus, when imposition happens, it automatically
transforms students into passive learning objects and minimizes their opportunities to think
critically and independently. However, when teachers refrain from imposing their per-
spectives on students during play, not only might students be empowered and enabled to
develop their sense of subjectivity as well as their creative power, but such action fosters
a less stressful environment that can lead to a more enjoyable experience. Since joy and
spontaneity are often positive experiences, students who experience them are more likely
to have the desire or motivation to return to the activity or experience, which leads to the
cultivation of intrinsic motivation. For example, when singing students are presented with
66  Kexin Xu
a piece of music that allows a variety of interpretations; without the teacher’s imposition of
how the piece should be interpreted, students are empowered to make the piece of music
alive through their creative interpretation and their unique vocal quality.
When a state of being free from expectations and free from impositions is established during
play, students are enabled to be free to make choices with minimal physical, psychological,
and emotional constraints. For example, when a singing teacher or a director creates a
game to help students imagine that they are the character of a wizard in a musical, instead
of expecting and imposing the teacher’s own perspectives of what the wizard should look
like and how the wizard should act like, the students might be free to think and act inde-
pendently. They should also be emotionally free from worrying about whether or not they
are imagining in the “correct way” or “expected way.” As a result, students are free from the
fear of consequences, they are free from the burden of external impositions, and they are free
to explore and sing, without physical, psychological, and emotional constraints, in a way
that is healthy, unique, and meaningful to them.
Therefore, it is the element of freedom in play that ultimately allows the three types of
imagination described by Reichling to function as she intended during play experiences in
singing education. Fantasy imagination is the initial level of imaginative development and
it depends predominantly on perception (Reichling, 1990). According to Reichling (1990),
fantasy imagination functions in a way that embodies “possibility” and “creativity;” chil-
dren would use their sight or touch to perceive concrete objects and then transform them
into imaginative objects that do not exist in the real world (p. 287). The imagined object
is the real object in the process of transformation, and it is through “making present the
non-existent” that children are inspired to imagine a world that is not limited by reality
(Reichling, 1990, p. 287).
The visualization of the non-existent requires almost the absolute absence of psycholog-
ical constraint that comes from knowing what has already existed, whether an idea, image,
or object. For example, in order for me to be able to imagine myself as Snow White singing
with the seven dwarfs in a castle, it might be helpful if my imagination is not restricted in
terms of accuracy to preexisting portrayals of Snow White or confined by how other people
think I should imagine Snow White. With the allowance of psychological or intellectual
freedom of imagination, I can physicalize how I think Snow White should act like without
having to worry about others’ expectations and impositions on my interpretation of Snow
White. Imagining or fantasizing myself as Snow White then becomes a positive and fun
experience that may make me fall in love with acting in a musical drama.
The second type of imagination that play informs, literal imagination, brings the facet of
reasoning into perception and is rooted in the sense world (Reichling, 1990). Fantasy im-
agination involves the transformation of real objects into imagined objects in play experi-
ence, but literal imagination involves viewing objects as “they exist in concrete, observable
reality, not as magically transformed” (Reichling, 1990, p. 288). It contributes to the cul-
tivation of music knowledge and skills that are governed by “rules,” such as learning music
notation or music symbols (Reichling, 1990, p. 288). For example, when students are learn-
ing to read notation and interpret the notes with their voices, freedom would allow students
the opportunity to cognitively make meaning of the notation and to vocally explore how
the different types of notes might be interpreted by each individual. One note might be
sung by one’s voice using a different volume, timbre, dynamics, and vibrato rate than it is
expressed by someone else, depending on factors including age, gender, vocal technique
development, and prior vocal and musical experience. While concept formation in literal
imagination involves dealing with concrete and perceivable objects, the experience of play
merges reality with fantasy and other functions of imagination (Rechling, 1997). Yet, with-
out the opportunity to “mess” with the learning, what might be considered as “foolish”
 Playing with Freedom  67
and “absurd” in ordinary life could still be considered the same way in play when students
are not free from expectations and imposition. Thus, freedom enables students to get away
from the limiting labels.
The third type of imagination discussed by Reichling (1990) is metaphorical and par-
adoxical imagination. Different from fantasy imagination, which emphasizes the magical
transformation of real objects into imagined objects, metaphorical imagination is to “pres-
ent a certain image or vision of one thing and impose it on something else as a kind of
transformation of what is present” (Reichling, 1997, p. 46). It can be referred to as “seeing
as,” which means that one is imagining X as Y, where Y is a recognizable aspect of X.
Although metaphorical and paradoxical imagination could be defined as separate types of
imagination, Reichling (1990) merged them into one category and stated the integration of
metaphorical and paradoxical imagination creates a type of contradiction that drives imag-
ination to the discovery of the “underlying truth,” and a discovery that “yields understand-
ing and pleasure” (p. 289). For example, when voice teachers ask students to “throw the
imagined baseball into the back of the room” in helping students release the breath, students
recognize the literal untruth of the instruction, but the tension between recognizing the
literal untruth and accepting the metaphor propels the imagination to grasp the metaphor
and search for the underlying truth.
Nevertheless, metaphorical imagination might not be able to function the same way in
play without the element of freedom. The nature of metaphorical imagination seems to
be more abstract than the other two types of imagination because it involves the under-
standing of intangible metaphors and figurative interpretation. Thus, having the absence of
constraints during play is imperative in terms of understanding, exploring, and imagining
many different types of metaphors. For example, singing teachers often teach the inhalation
phase of breath management by employing various types of metaphors, such as “imagine
you are smelling a delicious pie” or “imagine your body is a big balloon that is filled with
air.” During the process of understanding and interpreting the metaphors of “smelling a
delicious pie” or “imagining the body as a big balloon” in play experiences, being free
from expectations would allow the opportunity to openly explore possible sensations that
one experiences in the body and to encourage students to experience the action differently
from their peers. Singing is an act that requires great coordination of breath, phonation,
and articulation; how breath coordinates with the other aspects and how it functions for
one student are different from how it might function for someone else depending on the
lung capacity, size and length of vocal folds, and shape of the vocal tract of each individual
(Sundberg, 1977). Therefore, the sensation of “imaging the body as a big balloon” should be
encouraged to feel and act differently to each student according to the anatomy differences
of each individual.
Furthermore, if students were not able to understand and interpret a metaphor at the mo-
ment, focusing on the process rather than the product would minimize the negative conse-
quence of failure and avoid making students feel emotionally frustrated or disappointed. For
example, sometimes students might have trouble understanding why they should imagine
their body as a big balloon, and sometimes they might have physical limitations of doing the
action at the moment. When students are given a positive experience, they will likely feel
encouraged to come back to the activity and gradually develop a love for singing.

How Might Play Inform Imagination in Singing Education?

Having explained Reichling’s three types of imagination and the re-imagination of play, I
will now describe how play with freedom informs the three types of imagination in vocal
music education (Figure 6.1).
68  Kexin Xu

Figure 6.1  Conceptual model of play.

Fantasy imagination: in the process of learning a new piece of music, students are faced
with the challenge of imagining and expressing emotions that they may have only had
limited experiences with in real life. For example, when a ten-year-old student explores the
emotion of sadness, teachers could create an activity or a situation that allows the student to
become a character that is sad. As the student is immersing themselves into the situation and
being the character, they would then adopt the physicality, the voice, and emotions of the
character. During the activity of playing a character, it is important that students have the
psychological, physical, and emotional freedom to imagine and experience sadness uniquely
because how one student feels and expresses sadness is different from other students. For
example, one student might express sadness by crying whereas another student might stay
silent when they are sad. Thus, having freedom in play could contribute to divergent in-
terpretations of the same emotion, which not only creates an experience that is personal
and meaningful, but also makes every student distinctive and unique. However, imagine
if the teacher imposed onto the student how they should feel and express sadness or voiced
to the student that the way they felt and expressed sadness was incorrect. The judgment
from the teacher could feel hurtful to the student trying their best; every student might end
up with the interpretation of sadness that might not necessarily mean anything to them, and
the audience will get the same interpretation of sadness from every student.
Literal imagination: When a singer reads the symbol of f or forte on a piece of music for
the first time and tries to interpret loud or strong in the way that they understand and feel
the most comfortable enacting, teachers could engage play by providing students to have
a chance to “mess” with the foreign symbol. For example, teachers might create a story
that has a character who needs to use a vocal expression of loud or strong, and teachers
might also ask students to play on different types of objects that have a naturally loud vol-
ume. When students are exploring the expression of forte in play, they might first have the
freedom to search what degree that forte might feel the most suitable for their own vocal
ability, and then they could have the freedom to choose how they would like to vocally
express forte in a way that is healthy and unique to them depending on their age, gender,
vocal ability, and prior musical experience. However, if the students are constrained by the
teacher’s perspectives of how forte should sound and be vocally expressed, they will also lose
their opportunity to express forte in a way that is vocally suitable and distinctive as well as
emotionally meaningful to them.
 Playing with Freedom  69
Metaphorical imagination: The use of head voice is vital in the development of singing
voice for all ages, yet it is emotionally and technically challenging to accept and apply the
concept of head voice. Therefore, teachers often use metaphorical imagination in play to
help students discover and employ the head voice. For example, students sometimes have
to sing not so friendly vowels on high pitches that discourage the use of head voice. In that
case, singing teachers could ask students to play with the metaphor of singing on one vowel
while thinking another vowel to help students use more head voice (Doscher, 1994). Due
to the fact that singing is highly individual, one student might need to drop the jaw a little
less than someone else on a given vowel in order to employ more use of head voice, and one
student might need to think a different vowel than their peers. Therefore, having psycho-
logical and physical freedom would enable students to understand and apply the metaphor
to practice in a way that is the most suited and helpful to them. Meanwhile, when students
are not emotionally worried about whether or not they are “getting” the head voice, the
absence of fear would then free up the tension in the voice and make it a fun and pleasant
learning experience. Students will then be empowered to be the owner of their voices and
enabled to use them in ways that are unique and meaningful to each individual.

Conclusion
In this chapter, I problematized Reichling’s definition of play in the context of imagination
because the confined definition of play limits students’ intellectual, physical, and emotional
capacity of imagining in the process of learning how to sing. I explained why the lack of
discussion about the mechanism that enables play to inform the three types of imagination
is problematic. In response to this problem, I propose understanding play as a concept that
embodies freedom, which is the absence of physical, psychological, and emotional con-
straints on choices and actions. In the process of learning how to sing, freedom involves
looking beyond preset standards and expectations, which can be understood from the per-
spectives of free from and free to in play experiences.
Freedom in play could be interpreted as free from expectations in vocal music education,
which helps redirect the focus from achieving a certain vocal production to the process of
learning how to sing. Meanwhile, it minimizes the negative consequences of failure that
might ultimately diminish singing students’ self-worth. As a result, students are given a
chance to explore the healthiest as well as the most distinctive vocal quality and expression
without being vocally, physically, and psychologically confined or emotionally hurt by
the teacher’s expectations. Furthermore, free from imposition is another interpretation of
freedom in singing education, which not only empowers students to develop their sense of
subjectivity and creative power by allowing them to discover original vocal colors as well
as meaningful vocal expressions to communicate with the audience, but also fosters a less
stressful environment and more enjoyable experience that cultivates spontaneity during the
process of learning how to sing. When students are free from expectation and imposition,
they are free to make choices without any psychological, physical, and emotional constraints;
this freedom enables fantasy imagination, literal imagination, and metaphorical imagina-
tion to function in ways that are distinctive, meaningful, and relevant to each individual.
The process of learning how to sing is a personal learning experience that cannot be
duplicated from teachers’ experience, given that everyone is physiologically, vocally, and
emotionally unique. Thus, vocal music educators are challenged to use their imagination
to creatively play with the possibilities of inspiring and empowering young aspiring singers.
While having a singing lesson with a student, instead of employing the use of modeling
only, it would be beneficial for students if singing teachers could create and have a wide
range of tools at their disposal, which might help students tremendously in accomplishing
70  Kexin Xu
any specific singing task that they are working on such as breathing, phonation, and coor-
dination of vocal mechanisms. For example, while the use of lip trill seems to be a common
tool to help students learn to release their breath, it might not be the easiest to produce for
many students. Thus, not only are singing teachers encouraged to use their imagination to
explore ways to help students produce the lip trill, but they should also try to create other
tools that could achieve similar results as the use of lip trill to help every student with breath
release. By doing so, vocal music educators are taking a stride to help students develop the
healthiest singing technique and help them express and communicate through their most
distinctive, resonant, and beautiful voices.

References
Allsup, R. E. (2016). Remixing the classroom: Toward an open philosophy of music education. Indiana University
Press.
Ardley, G. (1967). The role of play in the philosophy of Plato. Philosophy, 161(42), 226–244. https://www.
jstor.org/stable/3749078.
Dennis, l. (1970). Play in Dewey’s theory of education. Young Children, 25(4), 230–235. http://www.jstor.
org/stable/4264333.
Doscher, B. (1994). The functional unity of singing (2nd ed). Rowan and Littlefield.
Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Continuum.
Green, L. (2008). Music, informal learning and the school: A new classroom pedagogy. Ashgate
Noddings, N. (2004). Happiness and education. Cambridge University Press.
Reichling, M. J. (1990). Images of imagination. Journal of Research in Music Education, 38(4), 282–293.
https://doi.org/10.2307/3345225.
Reichling, M. J. (1997). Music, imagination, and play. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 31(1), 41–55. https://
doi.org/10.2307/3333470.
Richerme, L. K. (2019). Fostering freedom: Troubling relevance and individualism. Bulletin of the Council
for Research in Music Education, 220, 7–20. https://doi.org/10.5406/bulcouresmusedu.220.0007.
Sundberg, J. (1977). The acoustics of the singing voice. Scientific American, 236(3), 82–91. http://www.
jstor.org/stable/24953939.
7 Information Literacy as a Factor for
Musical Creativity Enhancement
Challenges and Prospects for Music
Education
Charilaos Lavranos and Charles Patterson

Introduction
Recent developments in information technology and the Internet—through which access
to music information is provided—have brought about significant changes in the modern
music educational environment (Lavranos et al., 2015; Schippers, 2000). These consist of
the main structural axes in the way of communication and formation of the roles played by
individuals in the field of music education (teachers and students), as well as in restructuring
the relationship between music information and society ( Jones, 2010). In particular, teach-
ers and students undertake to carry out various arrangements and are called upon to play
various roles that alternate the intensity of interest and the occasional music information
seeking and searching in the context of music education (Chandransu, 2019). Therefore,
music education forms various music information needs and their satisfaction, as well as
attitudes, behaviors, and specific information channels and music resources toward music
information seeking and searching (Emmanuel, 2003). These processes of assuming roles
and acquiring musical information and skills can be viewed as creative ones in which the
uniqueness of the individual dictates the process, which has unique qualities depending on
the person. As such, there is a continuous development of various technological applications
related to music information seeking and searching, including web information services,
software tools, file compression applications, mobile devices, etc. (Nanopoulos et al., 2009).
Through use of these processes of information seeking and searching, one is able to view
musical skill acquisition and utilization as a crucial, creative process.
The concept of “information literacy” includes issues related to the recognition of the
need for information, the ability to locate, evaluate, and organize, as well as the effective
use of information by individuals, to solve problems, make decisions, create new knowl-
edge and preserve the old, transmit information to third parties, etc. (Bawden, 2001). The
cultivation of “information literacy skills” supports the process of information seeking and
searching, retrieval, critical evaluation, and the use of know-how, elements important for
the daily activity of individuals (Manus, 2009). In particular, music information literacy in-
cludes skills related to determining the quality and quantity of music information required
for a particular creative activity (e.g., musical composition, performance, improvisation,
listening, analysis), in recognition, detection, and retrieval, as well as in the formulation
of successful questions in the appropriate music information resources (printed and online)
within the educational and non-educational environment (Lavranos et al., 2016).
Music information literacy consists of a very important factor for understanding how
music teachers and students seek and utilize music information, affecting musical creativity
enhancement in the educational environment (Lavranos et al., 2020). More specifically,
music information literacy enhances the understanding of music information, facilitates
the recording of music information needs, enhances the information seeking/searching and

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-8
72  Charilaos Lavranos and Charles Patterson
retrieving skills from different and complex music information systems, as well as assists
in the organization and utilization of music information for the benefit of music commu-
nities (e.g., teachers, students, composers, performers, listeners) (Kostagiolas et al., 2015).
In this context, music information literacy is transformed into a promotional mechanism
that provides the possibility of going beyond national, cultural, or other restrictions on the
management of music information (Grizzle et al., 2014; Lavranos et al., 2015). Without
the cultivation of music information literacy, any form of seeking and searching can be
wrongly considered sufficient, while social phenomena such as the information exclusion of
vulnerable communities but also the need for knowledge and services of music information
evaluation are emerged (Bruinenberg et al., 2019). Therefore, music information literacy
consists of an important mechanism for the evaluation of the offered music information in
educational and non-educational environments (Lavranos, 2018).
The general concept of creativity has been shown to rely heavily on effective informa-
tion acquisition and utilization. Studies have suggested that the ability to create is fueled
by effective use of information (Cropley & Cropley, 2012; Sawyer, 2012). Wu (2019) fur-
ther describes this detail in terms of information literary competency and that creativity
is underpinned in this process. In other words, information acquisition and utilization are
structurally important to creative processes, and musical creativity is strengthened by the
successful acquisition of information and information skills.
A musician seeks to achieve expression in their music making. As such, they must utilize
a creative process or an ambition effort to arrive at that purpose for information and knowl-
edge accusation. This process of achieving musical success (which looks different for each
musician) is influenced by several factors including informational needs, informational re-
sources, and barriers contributed by the musician’s surrounding environment and personal
needs. A conceptual model (Lavranos et al., 2015) was developed to understand these stages
and influences on a musician’s creative process (see Figure 7.1). Musical creative activities

Figure 7.1  A conceptual information seeking behavior model for musical creativity (Lavranos et al., 2015).
 Information Literacy  73
(compositions, performances, etc.) and musical creative products (music scores, recordings,
etc.) are influenced by music information needs (environmental, social, and personal) and
resources (digital, conventional, and interpersonal). These needs and resources are sup-
portive by prior motives (environmental, personal, emotional, etc.) and intentions (prior
compositions, performances, etc.) and foster creativity.

The Role of Information Literacy on Information Management and

Lifelong Learning
The concept of “information literacy” has emerged from the need to manage and organize
information (Case, 2012). Furthermore, information management has a qualitative effect
on the daily life of individuals, contributing to their cognitive, intellectual, social, and
cultural development (Mawby et al., 2015). Information seeking and searching in the daily
life of individuals is continuous at all levels (professional, social, etc.) and concerns actions
such as query formulation, access to information sources, evaluation, and use of information
(Savolainen, 1995). In conjunction with the development of information technologies, in-
dividuals are deemed necessary to use information technologies correctly, identify and use
the needed information, have critical thinking to “filter” information, and evaluate the re-
spective information through a variety of printed and electronic resources (Bawden, 2001).
Information seeking and searching is linked to the development of information literacy
skills (Bawden & Robinson, 2013). It is about the individuals’ abilities to recognize the
information needs that arise each time within specific socio-economic contexts, as well as
the ability to use information systems effectively to achieve a specific purpose either indi-
vidually or collectively (Martzoukou & Sayyad, 2017). According to Bawden (2001), the
basic characteristics of information literacy skills are reported in:

• Determining the nature of the required information

• The effective and efficient access to the necessary information
• The critical evaluation of information and information resources
• The ability to integrate selective information into the knowledge base and value system
of individuals
• The effective use of information
• Understanding various economic, legal, and social issues surrounding the ethical and
legal use of information

The cultivation of information literacy skills refers not only to the identification and evalu-
ation of information, but also to its effective use and dissemination (Manus, 2009). There-
fore, it is important for individuals to have a support by information experts (e.g., librarians
and information scientists) regarding the proper use of certain tools and techniques for the
effective dissemination and exchange of information (Bawden, 2001).
In the literature, various approaches have been formulated regarding the concept of infor-
mation literacy. Specifically, Zurkowski (1974) refers to techniques and skills of individuals
and to the use of information tools as well as primary sources for the effective management
and solution of information problems, while Kuhlthau (1993, 1997) expands the concept by
stating that information literacy is not just a set of skills for locating and using information,
but a broader way of learning. In the same context, Johnston and Webber (2003) report that
the concept of information literacy is the adoption of appropriate information behavior to
obtain, through any channel or medium, the information that serves the information need,
as well as the recognition of the importance of the appropriate and ethical use of informa-
tion in society. According to Martin (2011), it is the ability of individuals to recognize the
74  Charilaos Lavranos and Charles Patterson
information needs that arise within various socio-economic contexts, as well as the ability
to use information systems and services effectively.
The concept of information literacy has also been addressed by international organi-
zations and scientific communities at a collective level (e.g., UNESCO—United Nations
­Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, IFLA—International Federation of
Library Associations and Institutions, NFIL—National Forum on Information Literacy,
CILIP—Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals, ACRL—Association
of College and Research Libraries, SCONUL—Society of College National and University
Libraries). In particular, UNESCO in the Prague Declaration (2003) states that information
literacy includes the knowledge of individuals’ information problems and needs, and their
ability to identify, evaluate, organize, create, use, and effectively transmit information to
address specific issues or problems, while it is a prerequisite for effective participation in the
Information Society and is part of the basic human right to lifelong learning. Two years
later, in the Declaration of Alexandria by UNESCO, IFLA, and NFIL (2005), information
literacy is referred to the skills of identifying information needs and locating, evaluating,
using, and creating information within cultural and social contexts, while it is a basic hu-
man right in the age of technology and plays an important role in the modern age.
Despite the differences, all the approaches to information literacy found in the literature
are focused on individuals and refer to skills acquisition, gaining knowledge of information
resources, and the ability to analyze and use the retrieved information (Lavranos, 2018). In
addition, information literacy is at the core of lifelong learning enabling people of all walks
of life to seek, evaluate, use, and create information effectively in order to achieve personal,
social, professional, and educational goals (Lau, 2006). According to IFLA’s guidelines for
information literacy in lifelong learning, the term “literacy” refers to culture, the cultiva-
tion of individuals on a cognitive, emotional, and psychomotor level. Its aim is to acquire
knowledge and skill attitudes and awareness, that is, the process by which the person man-
ages to become deeply aware of reality, and to manage the contemporary socio-cultural
environment as constituted in the Information Society (Lau, 2006).
In recent decades, with the rapid development of information technologies and their
ever-increasing application in most of the daily activities of individuals, the need has arisen
for cultivating information literacy in the digital environment (Grizzle et al., 2014). In the
literature, the term is identified as “digital literacy” and refers to the skills one acquires for
living, learning, and working in digital society (UNESCO, 2011). In the same context,
the “European Framework for the Digital Competence of Educators: DigCompEdu” was
developed (Redecker, 2017), which describes the basic skills and the necessary knowledge
that teachers and students should acquire in the knowledge society, for their personal and
educational development and integration. As such, it is important for individuals involved
in music education to assess the role of digital learning in their practices. While the term
“information literacy” has been utilized to serve music education’s demands, the term
should continue to evolve with the concerns of the 21st century. In addition, one must
consider how musical creativities should evolve to meet those concerns and needs of the
century and digital age.

Music Information Literacy Skills as a Factor for Musical Creativity

Enhancement
The development of information literacy skills has become necessary due to the abundance
of information which requires the selection, evaluation, and effective use of information on
a case-by-case basis (Christensen et al., 2018). In this context, information literacy standards
have been developed by educational organizations and scientific associations worldwide
 Information Literacy  75
(e.g., IFLA, CILIP, ACRL, SCONUL). These consist of specific guidelines and directions
through which the level of information literacy is assessed at an individual and collective
level and which can be adopted as is, as well as be adapted to the needs of local organizations
or countries (Lau, 2006).
The aim of the formation of information literacy standards is the development of crit-
ical thinking and the construction of knowledge through the retrieval and evaluation of
information (Christensen et al., 2018). As a whole, information literacy standards follow a
defined structure and are formed based on three main axes: (a) access, (b) evaluation, and
(c) use of information. Regarding the components of the three main axes, (a) effective and
efficient access includes the formulation of the need for information and its identification;
(b) critical evaluation includes the analysis, examination, interpretation, and organization
of information; and (c) the use-application includes the ways of its transmission, presenta-
tion, distribution, and ethical use of information (Lau, 2006).
Music Library Association (MLA) is the professional association for music libraries and
music librarianship in the United States of America (USA). At the same time, it provides a
professional forum for librarians, archivists, and others who support and preserve its musi-
cal cultural heritage internationally, and is a subsidiary of the International Association of
Music Libraries, Archives, and Documentation Centers (IAML). In 2006, the MLA estab-
lished a music information literacy standard published by Cary and Sampsel (2006) in the
journal Notes entitled “Information Literacy Instructional Objectives for Undergraduate
Music Students.” The skill items, performance indicators, and results listed in the MLA in-
formation literacy standard are based on the information literacy standard developed by the
American College and Research Libraries (ACRL), providing educational objectives which
are prepared by the subcommittee that developed this standard (Christensen et al., 2018).
Below are summarized the five skill items accompanied by specific performance indicators
according to which assessed the level of information literacy of every music student. Ac-
cording to Duffy (2018), these specific skill items and performance indicators are applicable
in a secondary music education environment.
According to MLA’s information literacy skill items and performance indicators, infor-
mation literate students:

1 Determine the nature and extent of the required information (e.g., define and express
the need for information; identify a variety of types and forms of potential sources of
information; examine the costs and benefits of obtaining the required information;
reassess the nature and extent of the required information).
2 Access to the required information effectively and efficiently (e.g., select the most
appropriate research methods or information retrieval systems to access the required
information; construct and implement effectively designed search strategies; retrieve
information online or on a personal level using a variety of methods; improve search
strategy, if necessary; extract records and manage information and its resources).
3 Critically evaluate information and its resources and integrate the selected information
into their knowledge base and value system (e.g., summarize the basic ideas to be ex-
tracted from the information gathered; formulate and apply initial criteria for evaluating
both information and their resources; synthesize the main ideas to structure new con-
cepts; compare the new with the previous knowledge in order to determine the added
value, contradictions, or other unique features of information; determine whether new
knowledge has an impact on individuals’ value system and take steps to reconcile differ-
ences; validate understanding and interpretation of information through conversation
with other individuals, specialists, and/or professionals; determine whether the original
question should be revised).
76  Charilaos Lavranos and Charles Patterson
4 Use information effectively, individually or as a member of a group, to achieve a spe-
cific purpose (e.g., apply new and previous information to the design and creation of a
particular product; review the product development process; communicate the product
effectively to others).
5 Understand many of the economic, legal, and social issues related to the use of infor-
mation, accesses and uses information ethically and legally (e.g., understand many of
the ethical, legal, and socio-economic issues related to information and information
technology; follow laws, regulations, institutional policies, and etiquette related to ac-
cess to and use of information resources; recognize the use of information resources in
product communication).

Developing music information literacy skills is an important driving force for musicians
at both professional and amateur levels (Kostagiolas et al., 2019). It contributes to the im-
provement of the framework for music information seeking and searching, by providing
the ability to deal with problems related to the identification of quality printed and digital
information, the lack of familiarity with the use of information resources, as well as other
restrictions related to evaluation, ethical and legal use of music information (Lavranos,
2018). In this light, the development of music information skills serves as a means of lim-
iting the personal and environmental barriers that musicians face in the process of music
information seeking and searching (Lavranos et al., 2016). The relationality of all of this to
musical creativity is still not clear.
In particular, the development of music information literacy skills refers to understand-
ing the needs for music information, access to music information resources, evaluation,
presentation, and ethical use of music information (Manus, 2009). Furthermore, it con-
tributes to the identification of key reference resources, musical compositions and work
performances, music journals, databases, multimedia music material, etc. (Cary & Sampsel,
2006). In addition, it helps musicians make effective use of music information systems and
services, as well as discovering new practices and relationships between creative activities
such as music education, composition, performance, listening, and analysis (Hunter, 2006).
The development of music information literacy skills also contributes to the presentation
and circulation of music information (Ashley et al., 2012), as well as to its ethical use with
the correct and legal use of information, but also the knowledge and understanding of ap-
propriate reporting methods (Manus, 2009).
At the same time, musical creativity refers to various areas of music education such as
composition, improvisation, performance, listening, as well as various approaches to music
analysis (Hickey, 2002). It is widely accepted that music composition, performance, im-
provisation, and listening are key creative activities in music education (Webster, 1990). It
should be noted, however, that activities related to music analysis are also considered crea-
tive because they are part of the daily practice of those who compose, perform, improvise,
and listen to music in the educational process (Dunn, 1997).
In the context of musical creativity, a significant number of theoretical models
have been developed which describe the creative process in music (Kostagiolas et al.,
2017). The majority of these models have received significant influences from Wallas’
(1926) theoretical framework for creativity, while they perceive musical creativity as a
­problem-solving activity that arises during the creative process in music. According to
Hickey and Webster (2001), the creative process in music is described as the thought that
takes place as a person plans to produce a creative product. In the same context, Webster
(2002) studied creative thinking in music focusing on the creative process and the role
it plays in music education. According to this approach, creative thinking in music is
 Information Literacy  77
perceived as a dynamic mental process that alternates between divergent and convergent
thinking, follows specific stages over time, is activated by factors such as internal musical
skills and external conditions (e.g., environment, communication, information), and
results in a final musical product (Webster, 2002). This is where music information lit-
eracy skills come in handy to support and enhance musical creativity in the educational
environment.

Conclusions
In the current digital era, developments in information technology in conjunction with
the use of the Internet have led to the development of complex practices and systems for
accessing, retrieving, and managing information (Grizzle et al., 2014). They affect the way
it is distributed, shared, and consumed, effectively shaping the informational behavior of in-
dividuals (McLean et al., 2010). In particular, digital information services and the Internet
provide unlimited access to music information internationally, with the result that various
professional and amateur music communities are active in an ever-evolving music infor-
mation environment (Kostagiolas et al., 2019). This implies the continuous development
of various technological applications related to music information seeking and searching,
including web information services, software tools, file compression applications, mobile
devices, etc. (Nanopoulos et al., 2009). All these factors contribute to the cultivation of
individual and collective music information literacy.
In this context, music education is supported in reliable and secure environments, in per-
son as well as on the Internet, through which opportunities are created for communication,
exchange of music information, and cooperation between teachers and students (Redecker,
2017). These collaborative environments affect music information seeking and searching,
enabling meaningful and structural interactions between stakeholders and forming in this
way daily practices in music education (Duffy, 2018). In addition, the advancement of
technological systems and multimedia applications that support the cultivation of music
information literacy skills has resulted in the expansion of the availability of music infor-
mation through various media, digital storage devices, and the Internet, thus influencing
music information seeking and searching in the context of music education (UNESCO,
2011). Therefore, the cultivation of music information literacy skills in conjunction with
the development of information technologies increases the preservation and dissemination
of music knowledge and culture, enhancing musical creativity in the educational environ-
ment (Lavranos et al., 2015).
The ultimate goal of music information literacy skills cultivation is to enhance the de-
velopment of integrated intervention approaches that have been based on the information
and systematic targeting at certain levels of music education (Redecker, 2017). Information
literacy skills cultivation in the environment of music education provides a series of prac-
tical effects regarding the development of resources and the design of systems and services
aimed at meeting music information needs of teachers and students (Lavranos, 2018). In
addition, it helps to determine the effectiveness of music information retrieval and is useful
in designing other tools related to supporting the retrieval, sharing, and communication
of music information in an educational environment (e.g., creation of electronic discussion
groups, virtual chat rooms, and online communities) (Lavranos et al., 2015). The devel-
opment of these tools should facilitate either synchronous or asynchronous access to music
information, but also present various functions that allow the cooperation and exchange
of information in the context of music education, ultimately enhancing musical creativity
(Grizzle et al., 2014).
78  Charilaos Lavranos and Charles Patterson
Questions for Consideration
1 How do the digital resources available to musicians and music teachers support musi-
cally creative information literacy and learning?
2 How has the music information motives for creativities (environmental, role related,
personal, and emotional) changed in the last decade?
3 How have musical creative activities changed in the last decade?
4 Think about your own musical creativity journey. Do you think it would have been
strengthen/changed due to the music information resources available today?
5 How do you anticipate music informational literacy will change in the future?

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8 Multiple Creativities as a Natural
Progression of the Origins of the
Universe
A Justification for Music Education from
Spirituality
Clint Randles
Approximately 13 billion years ago all of space and time could be found in the space of ap-
proximately 2 cubic millimeters—a bundle of highly compressed particles (Barrow, 2009).
Perhaps it was tightly packed with all of the hopes and dreams of a universe as yet to have
been given articulation. String theorists propose that a profound imbalance in the sym-
metry of strings, the one-dimensional objects that are theorized to be found all over the
universe in and among everything, caused an event that might well be regarded as the most
significant in the history of the universe.
In a moment, that highly compressed bundle of particles reached a tipping point and
exploded ever outward into space. How that happened or why is uncertain and has been
debated since antiquity (Margenau et al., 1992) but evidence for all of space and time not
staying compressed is all around us. What happened after this point is important for us
to consider when seeking to understand the significance of music as a core subject in the
schools and a staple of a complete education. Seeing music education as a natural progres-
sion of the origins of the universe is a necessary first step to understanding the power that
it has as a creative outlet in our lives and in the lives of members of the communities that
we serve.
In this chapter I provide a rationale for why music as a unique expression of human cre-
ativity is essential for all human beings desiring to live the good life by suggesting that it is
a natural extension of the very beginning of everything and the process that has unfolded
since that moment. Music is not the only way to experience the life-affirming benefits of
multiple creativities, but it is surely a unique and essential manifestation of it for reasons
discussed in this chapter and in the work of hosts of other scholars interested in spotlighting
the significance of music and music education (Allsup, 2016; Elliott & Silverman, 2015;
Fung, 2017; Reimer, 2003; Williams, 2019). I discuss the unique meanings of two terms
that help support this thesis: communion and progress. I explain how each can be thought
of in terms of the extent to which they express sensive, feelingful, and meaningful dimen-
sions. I then position how creative activity through music-making is a pathway to being
most alive. And, finally, I end the chapter with suggestions as to how music education
might move forward with this knowledge.

A Justification for Multiple Creativities

What follows is a narrative composed to help the reader think of the natural progression
of the universe. It is based around popular science and contemporary scientific thinking
about the origins of space and time. The language at times borders the unscientific as a
result of the theoretical nature of the subject matter and the points that I try to connect.
While this might seem like a limitation, it is necessary that I employ some creative liberty

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-9
 Multiple Creativities  81
to connect moments in time that no one was there to observe. I build on the work of Bell
(2016) in conceptualizing how the beginning of time might have unfolded. While not
testable, the ideas that I present hereafter may present music education with another way to
think about its significance.

Particles
At a moment of imbalance among the strings, particles exploded ever-outward into space.
If the particles would have stayed merely particles in isolation, the beauty and complexity
of existence would be nothing like it is today. We and everything we know and have expe-
rienced thus far in the universe would not exist. Thankfully this was not the case and the
particles that were thrust into continual outward expansion did not just stay particles. How
or why they decided to come together we do not know. Again though, evidence for the
fact that they did not stay apart exists all around us. Over time those simple bits of matter
came together to form something that was at the time of its origin completely new to the
universe—atoms.

Atoms
Atoms at the time of their inception were the most cutting-edge things anywhere, the most
advanced of all, an example for all aspiring particles to follow. Atoms were more than the
simpler particles that formed them. They were sophisticated. Each atom had a unique elec-
trical charge that affected how they interacted with the atoms around them. Because of this
they became very close to certain atoms and tried to keep away from others. This charac-
teristic will become quite important to understanding the descendants of these first atoms.
What would have happened if those particles would have stayed apart? We would not
know because we never would have come to the place of knowing. Without particles
coming together to form atoms, we would not be. The story continues when the most
complex thing in the history of the universe—atoms—came together to form things
that were at the point of their formation the most progressive thing in the history of the
universe—molecules.

Molecules: The Building Blocks of Multiple Creativities

Molecules were at that point the gold standard for all atoms to work toward becoming.
Remember, particles longed to unite to form atoms that now sought to unite to form mol-
ecules because molecules were an extension of that first impulse that sent all particles ema-
nating forever outward into space. The universe at that point in time was a prime example
of progress, of forward momentum, of change and multiple creativities. Things did not
stay the same, they changed. Everything was working to become more complex. And, the
complexity was multiple (not singular), diverse, and unpredictable in beauty and novelty.
The notion of multiple creativities (Burnard, 2012) was born.
In a way this progression of simple things coming together to form more complex
things from a point of quintessential articulation—the moment of profound imbalance at
the beginning of time—is an analogy for music and music-making. When we engage in
musical activity we take simple things like notes, melodies, harmonies, and form and we
make them more complex. From a point of complete silence we introduce vibrations that
emanate increasingly outward from their place of origin, taking increasingly more and
more sophistication as we take simple things and make them more complex or refined.
We make good with sound. We espouse meaning in and through our chosen medium as
82  Clint Randles
we communicate feelingful content to ourselves and those around us. All of this activity,
thinking through our art form—music—causes us to grow from a cognitive perspective.
That growth echoes what was then occurring in the growth of the complexity of the
universe.
Molecules in this way are descendants of the particles that exploded from that first pro-
found imbalance. And, just like their ancestors, those molecules were not satisfied with
being merely molecules. They had a desire to be something more, to reach farther than
what had been reached collectively in the universe up to that point in time. So, they got
to work, becoming effective building blocks for all that we can now see and observe in the
universe. Those simple things came together over time to form all that we can now expe-
rience, all that we can see with the most advanced telescopes, every aspect of experience
that our brains can process. Most importantly, those molecules formed us. With molecules a
precedence for multiple creativities was born, as there was no end or limit to the multiplic-
ity of the creativities expressed. Molecules opened the door of possibility for the creation
of all things.

Humans: The Next Expression of Multiple Creativities

We are a result of the natural progression of the universe, of simpler things coming together
to form more complex things. We are in the direct lineage of the particles that exploded
from that place of origin at the beginning of time. As expressed before, they are our an-
cestors in a way. We owe the fact that they did not decide to stay separate to our existence.
Separation would have halted all progress. Had the particles that got the ball rolling in the
universe decided to remain separate they would have put an end to the multiplicity in cre-
ativeness that has resulted.
The trajectory of the universe has been one of progress, of moving forward and coming
together because by not so doing existence would be flat and motionless. The universe is
very musical by nature. It moves and flows. Imbalances in energy are what cause me to
strum the strings on my guitar, what cause the strings to vibrate, and what cause me to at-
tach meaning to how a chord progression makes me feel. In a way that first imbalance was
the first expression of musicality in the history of the universe. It gave us a model by which
to strive to emulate, perhaps a pathway to a meaningful existence.
Humans are better together. We know from the work of researchers interested in stud-
ying creativities that it is a sociocultural phenomenon (Amabile, 2018; Burnard, 2012;
Sawyer, 2011). Creativities are not best explained by studying the work of individuals in
isolation. Rather, they are best understood by examining the complexity of the work of
a number of individuals working together to solve particular problems. Examples of these
kind of creativities include the originators of the first personal computer, the art schools in
Renaissance Florence, and garage punk bands in urban Detroit.
By coming together in groups to work on problems that affect our communities, the
world, the universe, we follow the natural progression of the universe. No particle ever
formed an atom alone. It took many particles to do that. No atom ever formed a molecule
alone. It took many to make that happen. No molecule ever made anything, including us,
without first coming together with other molecules. And, no single act of creativeness can
account for all of the possibilities that conceptions of the plurality of multiple creativities
afford. We are able to better follow the natural progression of the universe when we come
together in groups to work on problems together, to engage in processes that move our
collective experience forward. The process of making music beautifully illustrates this.
We should not settle on limiting the scope of our musical creativities in practice (Burnard,
2012). Rather, music education should embrace engagement with the complex trajectories
 Multiple Creativities  83
and configurations of multiple creativities as a natural progression of particles since the
beginning of time.

Communion and Progress

There is not a better justification that I can see for why the arts are necessary in the lives
of all human beings than conceptualizing opportunities to take simpler things and put
them together to form more complex things as people do when they create as following
the natural progression of the universe. To not create is to be like particles that never came
together to form atoms. The potential for them to contribute something of meaning to the
universe was lost in their failure to commune with others of their kind, failure to be on the
side of progress. The concepts communion and progress demonstrate sensive, feelingful,
and meaningful characteristics that powerfully explain how music is an indispensable form
of creative expression, essential to quality living. I will now unpack what I mean by these
concepts.

Communion
Communion as something that is the result of an act or instance of coming together of more
than one individual to share something is part of what makes music essential among all
activities that human beings can be a part of. There are other terms that I could use to say
this, but I like communion because it is the merger of the two words: community and union.
Music is one of the things that can be shared in community when human beings join their
voices and instrumental utterances together to form a union. The result is quite impactful
for everyone involved.
Coming together in this way can take many different forms in a variety of different so-
cial settings. However, the sonic quality of music makes it a particularly powerful form of
communion. It seems to join together our individuality to form a communal individuality,
complete with a combined personhood and identity. What results are greater than the sum
of all of the individual parts. Musical communion is a sensive, feelingful, and meaningful
activity.
These qualities mirror the natural progression of the universe in that in order for particles
to combine they must have sensed that they needed to or should in some way. There must
have been a sensory component that lead them to the notion that they should seek out or
stay away from other particles. When they came together, in certain cases, it must have felt
right because they stayed together to form atoms. I assume that there must have been a sort
of feeling dimension to the coming together. And, it was meaningful for them to do this
because new things to the universe were the result, upon which everything that came later
benefited from. Here I attach human ways of perceiving and understanding experience to
non-human things with caution. Please understand that my intention is merely to assist you
in imagining the thesis of this chapter, that we are happiest in life when we are creating be-
cause it mirrors the progressive nature of the meta-narrative of the universe. I will unpack
what I mean by this in the next sections using music as an illustration of this progression.
Sensive. When human beings make music together, when they commune, senses are in-
volved. Knowing where to play, who to play with, and when to play involves sensing based
on some conception of appropriateness. As I have stated, the particle to atom to molecule
progression that I mentioned previously could not have happened without the mediation of
senses, for sense must logically preclude any sort of motion or feelingful response to reality.
For particles to find other particles, they must have been aware of where there were other
particles and they must have decided to seek them out rather than remain separate. Again, I
84  Clint Randles
understand that it might be problematic for me to refer to particles as things that can sense.
I merely ask that you suspend judgment for long enough to try to imagine the possibilities
that this way of thinking allows for.
There are cues involved with sensing in all cases that I have mentioned above. If particle
movement is contingent upon electrical charge, then there must have been a sort of sens-
ing involved on this level for particles to know where and how to connect. There must be
some sort of sensing involved at the atomic level when atoms merge with other atoms to
form molecules. Humans have nervous systems that allow them to sense danger and safety
among numerous other things. If we think of the natural progression of the universe might
we think of senses mediating every step along the way, every instance of coming together
or remaining apart, every perception of present reality. Doing so would imply that we be-
lieve that the universe is sensive, and that it has progressed from its origins from that sensive
perspective.
Feelingful. From a conception of what it means to sense comes the feeling dimension of
the thing or being that senses. The senses provide information that leads to feelings about
that information. All of this typically occurs in conjunction with activity. Feelings are im-
portant for human beings to understand in order to navigate existence. Said another way,
senses lead to feelings about how to interpret information from what the senses reveal. It is
difficult for me to imagine a sense without a feeling because senses often directly precede
feelings. Feelings are high-level cognitive constructs that help individuals make sense of
existence and mediate all activity (Eisner, 2002; Langer, 1942). One can think of feelings
as playing a significant role in the natural progression of the universe that I speak of in this
chapter.
Thinking about music and communion, when individuals come together to make m ­ usic—
community, union, and music—they call upon their senses to mediate the activity that is
involved. Every entrance, every melodic choice, every phrase rides a wave that the senses
empower. We coordinate our movements with fellow members of the community in which
we find ourselves. All of this involves sensing where we are in relation to everyone else and
understanding how we might adjust our movements to better coordinate with those we
are playing with. How we feel about all of that is of paramount importance. Our feelings
contribute to what we take away in the making and after the fact from our musical com-
munion. Can we imagine feeling in terms of particles, atoms, and molecules?
Imagining that it felt good for particles to come together to form atoms is perhaps a
stretch. However, they kept doing it and have not ceased doing it since the beginning of
time! It is difficult for me to imagine that happening if negative feelings have been preem-
inent. Atoms continue to form molecules. Molecules continue to form everything that we
have come to know and observe. In nature, beings avoid circumstances that are unpleas-
ant, things that do not feel good. I avoid giant cats that could devour me. Pain tends to be
avoided by living creatures. Conversely, we consistently seek the satisfaction of things that
feel good. The natural progression of the universe has occurred on a sensitive, feelingful
level all along. We do not tend to think of this sensitive, feelingful level of being when we
think of the particle to atom to molecule progression. Perhaps we can even think of this
progression as being mediated by a level of meaning, complexity, diversity, multiplicity in
the expression of creativities.
Meaningful. Creating leads to meaning-making, while not creating leads to the absence
of it. The ability to make meaning and find meaning in the making is perhaps the most
profound thing that music and the arts provide humanity. If we think of creative activity
including music as accessed potential then we can think of the absence of that same activity
as lost potential. Lonely particles existing separate for all time is perhaps the simplest ex-
pression of lost potential. They could have contributed to the formation of something that
 Multiple Creativities  85
could have benefitted the collective good of the universe. We could discuss at length what
we mean by collective good. In short: peace, love, kindness, and others—thinking and
­acting—might get us close to a notion of collective good of the universe. Potential has been
accessed over the span of history that has resulted in my ability to write this chapter at this
point in time. I am thankful for progress.
When we come together to make music, we follow the natural progression of the uni-
verse. Our notes come together to form melodies, harmonies, and musical lines that com-
municate our wishes, hopes, and desires to ourselves, the people who we make music with,
and all who would commune with us through listening. This exchange is beautiful, life-­
altering, and mind-shaping. We create ourselves anew—authoring every time we engage in
creative activity through music. Our actions are multiple, diverse, and naturally boundary
crossing. We cannot, nor should seek to contain our creativities to pre-established catego-
ries in practice (only band, choir, and orchestra). The universe would look vastly different
were it articulated into limited forms. Every musical impulse that we entertain mimics that
moment of imbalance at the beginning of time. It can seem uncertain at first, but in the
making takes a shape that we each contribute to, feel through, and eventually make mean-
ing through—multiple creativities. Our art is a living and breathing system that flows from
our souls into the universe, embodying progress.
Thinking of the scientific origins of space and time as being mediated by meaning
changes our outlook on life and our understanding of all things. If our music-making
mirrors the universe in its sensive, feelingful, and meaningful characteristics, then we can
indeed think of it as a natural progression of the origins of the universe, which makes
it among the most important things that we could be doing with our time. Creativities
expressed in communion is what living is all about. Proof of this statement can be found
throughout history. Think of the teams of people who pioneered space travel. Think of the
group of individuals who engineered the first printing press or the first personal computer.
I tend to think of bands like the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, or the John Coltrane Quartet as
groups who did universe-altering, life-affirming work. I have benefitted greatly from these
creativities over my lifetime. Music is an amazing way to experience the natural progression
of the universe in our daily lives.

Progress
At the beginning of time, at the moment of quintessential articulation, a great resonation
began that continues to this day. The first moments of moving particles thrust into motion,
can be thought of as the start of sound resonance that still persists to this day. Movement,
motion, sound has continuously been made since that moment, but those first utterances
continue to resonate in all sounds that have occurred ever since. Motion and movement
are key to understanding the connection that I am trying to make between sound and the
beginning of the universe. Just as the particles began moving like columns of air when we
make musical utterances, we move from our present toward a better future. The natural
progression of the universe wonderfully illustrates movement toward progress. When we
create, when we take simpler elements and put them together to form more complex ones,
we follow in this tradition. Creativity and progress are complimentary.
Progress hinges on the idea, the hope that the best that society has ever known might
be just around the corner. Creativity, the process of coming up with novel and useful solu-
tions to our personal and social problems, fuels and sustains progress. Forward thinking
and acting are necessary for progress to occur as individuals come together for the benefit
of the group. Music ensembles are an example of progress as individuals work together for
the good of the whole, joining their voices together, taking simpler things, and artfully
86  Clint Randles
assembling them together to create more complex things. The products of such groups are
at best an expression of the sensive, feelingful, and meaningful course of the universe.
The opposite of progressivism in this way of thinking might be conservatism. I do not
wish for you to think of political conservatism at all when I use this term. When we con-
serve we hold back our efforts for fear of change and innovation, we try to protect what
we have over all other ways of thinking and acting. Conservation sets us on a path of con-
tinuously looking to the past to discover where we went wrong. The best of experience
is behind us instead of in front of us. Creativity is not as important in this kind of world
view unless it will lead us to discovering where we went wrong. Our efforts in this arena
make us look for our present and future in the past. Conservatism is built on past-thinking,
traditions, and nostalgia.
Our creative pursuits mirror the complimentary relationship between progressivism and
conservatism. Our creativity looks at the ways that we have lived previously and searches
for ways that we can extend our experience now and in the future. It is backward thinking
to the extent that it leads us to move toward progress. It informs our future action. Our
creativities are built on progress and forward momentum in our lives. I will now describe
how progress demonstrates the sensive, feelingful, and meaningful qualities of creativity
through music.
Sensive. Music starts at the level of perception. We sense it first. Those senses are almost
instantaneously converted to hearing, seeing, smelling, and feeling (among other things).
Without senses, these other qualities are not possible. We can think of the relationship be-
tween sensive, feelingful, and meaningful in terms of sign, object, and interpretant, where
senses are signs, feelings are objects, and meanings are interpretants. Like signs, senses come
first and signal feelings and meanings that stem from feelings. Creativity as an expression of
progress starts with our perceiving the world around us.
We sense movement forward. In the next section, I will talk about how we then almost
simultaneously feel certain ways about those senses. When I fly on airplanes, the motion
nearly always has a positive effect on my ability to generate ideas. These feelings of a sort
of euphoria are first triggered by my sensing that I am moving. Over repeated exposure
to how this phenomenon feels I have come to attach meaning to my air travel. I like to fly
with a notepad and a pen. The sensation of flying activates something inside my brain that
encourages ideation.
Music is a sensive-intensive activity. We see the people with whom we make music. We
smell certain things when we make music (different things depending on our unique set-
tings). We see people and objects in motion. And, of course, we hear sounds that are unique
to music-making in our specific setting. Senses are valuable forms of cognitive activity that
inform our whole selves. Senses mediate our creative activity that moves us forward. As I
have stated previously, creativity stretches us, moves us to the boundaries of what we have
always thought possible in our lives. Creative activity as an expression of progress in our
lives starts at the level of senses.
Feelingful. Music, in the tradition of Langer (1942), Eisner (2002), and Reimer (2003)
in music education, deals considerably with feelings. It is a feelingfully rich activity. One
cannot avoid the realm of feelings when engaged in music-making. Just as it must have felt
right for particles to commune and form a union with other particles, it feels right when
we extend ourselves past what we previously thought was possible. Our senses mediate
these feelings of joy in the progress that we experience when we extend ourselves and are
successful in so doing.
There is a flow to engagement with multiple creativities (Burnard, 2012) that Csiksze-
ntmihalyi describes in his work (1990, 1997). It is marked by a feeling of extreme satisfac-
tion with what you are doing when the task difficulty and your ability level are in perfect
 Multiple Creativities  87
balance. One grows incrementally as an individual and many times as a member of some
sort of collective by extending oneself. Musically this might be playing a challenging piece
or composing music that stretches your abilities in some way. John Coltrane’s A Love Su-
preme album stretched his musicianship and personhood in a way that no other piece be-
fore it had. He locked himself in a room for two weeks, and emerged in the end with a
complete idea for the album: structure, melodies, and overall concept. It was thrilling and
all-­consuming for him to undertake the project. These types of experiences feel great, and
are a hallmark of creative activity.
The sensive qualities of progress feel a certain way as a person is in motion. As I fly on
a plane, the movement has a positive effect on my ability to ideate; it feels great being able
to express myself in my notebook. I am able to connect ideas among pieces that I am read-
ing, draw conceptual models of abstract concepts, and link together seemingly unrelated
projects that I am working on. I look forward to flying because of how it makes me feel.
Flying has come to mean something to me that I had not planned on it meaning. I have
discovered something that brings me great joy and consistently proves to be a well-spring
for my creative activity.
Meaningful. Repeated instances of experiencing the feeling dimension of music-­
making, just like my repeated experiences of being able to cognate ideas on an airplane
contributing to my ideation, leads to meaning-making. Making music is sense intensive.
It makes us feel great when we are engaged with it. Repeated exposure to the hard work
involved with making music, the flowful joy and exuberance in the making, is a pathway
to joy and the good life (Elliott & Silverman, 2015). These qualities are how we should
measure progress in our lives.
When a person creates, when they engage in activity that involves senses and feelings,
meaning has the potential to be made. Meaning might be the highest order of progress in
the universe. The particles that formed the atoms that formed the molecules that comprise
my body could not have engaged in a more meaningful existence. The activity that pre-
cluded my being made is profoundly consequential to me. When I engage in meaningful
activity, such as when I join with my friends and make music, I honor all activity that went
into my formation. My music-making mirrors the origins of the universe.
The meaning-making aspect of creativity is the most life-altering quality that it has to
offer humanity. It makes full use of and values greatly what the senses provide experience.
It relies on feelings as legitimate and valuable places of origin for learning. It is not at all
out of place to suggest as some have that music education is the education of the feeling
dimension of experience (Reimer, 2003), the place where we create meaning through our
activity with sound. All opportunities to make meaning are a natural progression of the
origins of the universe and are therefore the highest order of human activity. We are hap-
piest when we are engaged in such activity. We feel the most alive when we are engaged
in making meaning. It is in such activity that progress, both individual and collective, can
be realized.

Feeling Most Alive

It is fun to make music because doing so provides us with a sense of purpose and meaning
as we engage with opportunities to mirror the metanarrative of space and time. Movement,
motion, and energy transfer, all present at the beginning of time, are observable when we
engage with music. Air molecules move with the vibrations of vocal chords, strings, and
drum surfaces. Creativity pushes us to the edge of our experience, where we break new
ground, where we see our personal and collective boundaries move outward, reaching a
state of flow in our personal and work lives. It is during these optimal experiences when
88  Clint Randles
we achieve flow that our happiest moments are found. Music leads us to achieving optimal
experience and feelings of being most alive.
To have opportunities to make music together and not take them is to miss opportunities
to achieve optimal experience and hence feel most alive. Our schedules can easily fill up.
We can come up with many reasons why we do not have time for creativity in our lives.
Making this time, however, is essential to living what Aristotle referred to as the good life.
We cannot achieve flow states that lead to productivity and happiness by not engaging in
the activities that lead to them. Making music is one of the ways, present at all time across
the history of humanity, that we can extend our lived experience in communion with other
humans on the planet, following the line of progress that started at the beginning of the
universe.
To work to destroy opportunities for people to make music is to be out-of-tune with the
song that started at the beginning of time (Bell, 2012). If we can imagine a song, a sort of
creativity song starting at the beginning of time, we might imagine people over that time
being more or less in-tune with it. Engaging in creative pursuits that mirror the beginning
of the particle to atom to molecule movement could be conceived of as playing in-tune
with it, not engaging in creative pursuits or trying to ruin opportunities for others to do
so might be considered playing out-of-tune with the song. Pushing the arts aside for more
core subjects is an example of being out-of-tune with the origins of the universe as so doing
takes away experiences of engaging in creativity with music. We need more opportunities
to shape simpler things into more complex things, not less. Furthermore, we need quality
experiences that engage the full spectrum of what it could mean to be excellent in music.
To ensure that all human beings regardless of our differences have opportunities to come
together like the particles to atoms to molecules to human beings progression is to be an
ethical artistic citizen (Elliott et al., 2016). Higher education has a responsibility to teachers
in the schools and community centers to champion music for the best of what it provides
for humanity. Music teachers owe it to the students that they serve to champion music for
all, to be aware of every student who is being left out of school music. Since we in higher
education collectively hold the keys to what is or can be offered to music students in schools
with regard to curriculum, we need to be aware and vigilant when necessary to see that
deficits are remedied and systemic wrongs are made right (Hess, 2019; Randles, 2022).
Doing so means playing in-tune with the one song.
We cannot go back to being merely molecules. We should not want to do this. Pursu-
ing our future should be more valuable to us than trying to be like we were in the past or
striving to remain the same. We affect our present and future by adjusting the things that
we can change here and now. There is movement, motion, and energy transfer involved in
the things that we say and do that affect our experience. In this way, we might think of life
as the ultimate creative process, an expression of progress. Life as an expression of multiple
creativities, or creativities within life, always moves forward. That might be an absolute that
can actually hold up to critique. Particles to atoms to molecules to human beings to human
beings making music. This is not a linear progression or a singular progression. It is merely
a progression that is articulated diversely. Human beings making music together is the most
sophisticated expression of the natural progression of the universe. It is the height of com-
munion and progress. Doing so makes us feel most alive, happy, productive, and fulfilled.

Moving Forward
Making music together holds the keys to the future of the universe (Randles, 2020). What
songs will we write? What symphonies will we compose? We owe it to the particles that
predated our abilities to create, that our lives to the greatest extent possible will be given to
 Multiple Creativities  89
creative activity. Music will play a role in mediating our communion and progress at least
where sound is concerned. Our individual and collective futures where creativity is con-
cerned will be in some way a continuation of the natural progression of the universe—the
story of multiple creativities. While we were not present at the beginning to scientifically
test many of the assumptions that I have made in this chapter, perhaps at least some of the
points will have a place in our valuation of creative activity based on the things that we can
now clearly observe and test.
An understanding of multiple creativities offers us opportunities to richly sense, feel, and
make meaning. It provides us with opportunities to commune and progress. Indeed, many
times we progress through the process of communing with one another. Just like the parti-
cles need other particles to actualize their creativity, to sense, feel, and make meaning, we
need one another to do the same in our lives. Researchers explain creativity from sociocul-
tural perspectives as opposed to purely individualistic perspectives out of a realization that
it cannot be explained without considering how groups of people produce it. Communities
come together to usher the progress in meaning-making that creativities allow.
We are limited in life to a large extent by our abilities to sense, feel, and make meaning.
There are a number of ways to react to that statement. We need to be aware, which is an-
other way to think about sensing. When we are aware, we are open to the feeling dimen-
sion of life that is in a way the interpretation of what our senses tell us. How we interpret
feelings makes all the difference in our ultimate progress in life. Some people cannot pro-
cess the feeling dimension of life and therefore burn out, dry up, or experience a diminished
quality of life. Music and the arts focus on utilizing senses and the feelings associated with
those senses in the purpose of making meaning.
The arts and music as part of the arts offer a way into the world of sense, feeling, and
meaning. As we create our future, let us remember where we came from. Let us embrace
our heritage as we improvise, compose, respond to, and perform musics (Elliott & Silver-
man, 2015) in all of the ways that it is experienced in the world (Burnard, 2012, 2014). Let
us understand the significance of our music-making as being linked to the origins of the
universe. As we boldly enter the world of silence with our motion, movement, and sound,
let us think of our activity as it is—an indispensable manifestation of communion and pro-
gress that the world cannot thrive without.

References
Allsup, R. (2016). Remixing the classroom: Toward an open philosophy of music education. Bloomington, IN:
Indiana University Press.
Amabile, T. M. (2018). Creativity in context: Update to the social psychology of creativity. New York: Routledge.
Barrow, J. D. (2009). The book of nothing: Vacuums, voids, and the latest ideas about the origins of the universe.
New York: Vintage.
Bell, R. (2012). NOOMA 011: Rhythm. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan. Retrieved from https://www.
youtube.com/watch?v=1FNHoYl8a78
Bell, R. (2016). Everything is spiritual. Retrieved from https://robbell.com/portfolio/everything-is-spiritual-
2016-tour-film/
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical creativities in practice. New York: Oxford University Press.
Burnard, P. (2014). Developing creativities in higher music education. New York: Routledge.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. New York: Harper Perennial.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Creativity: Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. New York: Harper
Perennial.
Eisner, E. (2002). The arts and the creation of mind. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Elliott, D. J., & Silverman, M. (2015). Music matters: A philosophy of music education. New York: Oxford
University Press.
90  Clint Randles
Elliott, D., Silverman, M., & Bowman, W. (Eds.) (2016). Artistic citizenship: Artistry, social responsibility, and
ethical praxis. New York: Oxford University Press.
Fung, C. V. (2017). A way of music education: Classic Chinese wisdoms. New York: Oxford University Press.
Hess, J. (2019). Music education for social change: Constructing an activist music education. New York: Routledge.
Langer, S. (1942). Philosophy in a new key: A study of the symbolism of reason, rite, and art. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Margenau, H., & Varghese, R. A. (Eds.) (1992). Cosmos, bios, theos: Scientists reflect on science, god, and the
origins of the universe, life, and homo sapiens. Chicago, IL: Open Court Publishing.
Randles, C. (2020). To create: Imagining the good life through music. Chicago, IL: GIA Publishing. ISBN:
978-1622774548
Randles, C. (2022). Music teacher as music producer: How to turn your music classroom into a center for musical
creativities. New York: Oxford University Press.
Reimer, B. (2003). A philosophy of music education: Advancing the vision. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson
College Div.
Sawyer, R. K. (2011). Explaining creativity: The science of human innovation. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Williams, D.A. (2019). A different paradigm in music education: Re-examining the profession. New York:
Routledge.
Part 2

Foundational Creativities
Early Childhood Musics

All musicians start somewhere. Their journeys start in utero and progress into their child-
hood years and then adolescence. This small yet very important section of this companion
is dedicated to authors exploring what this special time means for our understanding of
creativities in music education.
Knapp and Salvador weave the web of early childhood music for our international audi-
ence of music educators.
Cali and Barbot discuss the creativity of school-age children and adolescents.
Gallo brings us all up close and personal with video analysis in professional development
as a catalyst for developing teacher creativities.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-10
92  Foundational Creativities
9 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist
Weaving the Web of Inclusive Praxis in
Early Childhood and Elementary Music
Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp

Lily is guiding five-year-olds in music class. Nineteen children whirl around the room flicking colorful
scarves, reflecting the meter of Lily’s song. Each time the song ends, students freeze and Lily initiates
group and individual chanted rhythmic conversations. After a few improvised exchanges, Lily repeats
her song and students whirl away. Intake forms indicated that three children in this class receive special
education, one has a parent who gigs in a band, two take instrument lessons, and four children are new
to English, the only language Lily speaks.
Noticing the group’s waning interest, Lily transitions students from the high-energy movement activ-
ity into a seated circle. While singing a song she wrote, she passes out butterfly finger puppets. As she
sits down, she lands her butterfly near her ear and whispers, “My butterfly is singing to me! Who will
sing back to her?” Individual children echo tonal phrases that the butterfly sings, and then Lily resumes
her song. In the silence after the song ends, Jada gasps “My butterfly is singing!” Lily responds, “Will
you sing her song to us?” and Jada sings through her butterfly. With a few repetitions, Lily learns Jada’s
song, using her phone to record it so she can add it to this class’s repertoire. The class is ready to move
on, so Lily initiates a whole group folk dance.

Inclusive Praxis in Early Childhood Music Education

In the preceding vignette,1 children participated in play-based music interactions with an
experienced facilitator. Informal, child-centered activities created an atmosphere in which
children could contribute in a variety of ways. Immersion within known and improvised
materials allowed children to experiment with musical replication and creation. By draw-
ing on her extensive musical and pedagogical knowledge to design a flexible, developmen-
tally appropriate learning plan and then engaging her creativities to improvise interactions
with individual children during instruction, Lily welcomed and challenged children with a
variety of individual characteristics and needs.
Young learners’ individual learning needs span cognitive, communicative, cultural, emo-
tional, musical, and physical domains (see Reynolds et al., 2020). Educators seeking to cre-
ate inclusive instruction must consider each domain and may discover that definitions for
inclusion vary (Alquarani & Gut, 2012). Often, in the US inclusion is “procedurally defined
as a student with an identified disability, spending greater than 80% of his or her school day
in a general education classroom in proximity to nondisabled peers” (Baglieri et al., 2011,
pp. 2125–2126). Such definitions reinforce several problematic narratives on inclusion by
(a) focusing on a child’s limitations, (b) implying that a child should change to fit a cur-
riculum, (c) failing to acknowledge the importance of a child’s cultural background, and
(d) discounting the child or family as agents in their own education.
We argue, instead, for what we call inclusive praxis: an equity-focused educational approach
in which all students learn together, with each child engaged in interactions that pique their
interests, offer appropriate challenges and supports, sustain their cultural background, and

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-11
94  Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp
support their agency. Inclusive praxis requires a reflexive cycle in which educators plan,
teach, and reflect on instruction. In naming inclusive praxis, we assert that individual learn-
ers’ needs may be related to ability difference, could be in any domain (including musical),
and that learning differences include strengths and need for support. Aligned with biopsy-
chosocial models of disability (Engel, 1977; World Health Organization, 2002), inclusive
praxis prioritizes equity and shifts the responsibility for adapting from the child toward
teachers and schools. We argue that every child benefits from teacher responsiveness to a
child’s family home life, interests, strengths, and needs.
Educators and administrators frequently mobilize assertions that early childhood music
education (ECME) classes2 are inclusive environments to secure funding (Young, 2020).
Beliefs that music classes are naturally inclusive may arise from university coursework and
practitioner materials espousing music’s “magical” power as a universal design (Vaioully &
Friesen, 2016). Indeed, authors sometimes present music as an inclusion panacea, making
statements such as “music... allows all children to participate in an activity at their ability level
and provides a sense of community for even the most disabled child” (Press, 2006, p. 307).
Research in general education supports employing music for specific uses that could
foster inclusion. For example, general education teachers reported using music to address
autistic students’ academic or social-emotional goals (Sulek et al., 2019). Other researchers
investigated ways music could be used to support children’s literacy (Tierney & Kraus,
2013), transfer learning across contexts (Biasutti & Concina, 2013), and help children learn
new languages (Rautenberg, 2013). General educators have also used music to ease tran-
sitions (Guardino & Fullerton, 2014) and promote academic engagement (Sandberg et al.,
2013). Banerjee and Horn (2013) refer to these uses of music as environmental modifica-
tions or “invisible supports” (p.12). Generally, research regarding using music to promote
inclusion in general education is written by psychologists, music therapists, or educational
researchers for an audience of classroom teachers and special educators. Such research does
not necessarily indicate that ECME is inherently inclusive.
Research in general education focuses on music-as-intervention, implemented by teach-
ers who are assumed to understand child development and universal designs for learning.
Mills (1997) found generalist educators were more effective at teaching music to younger
students than music specialists, arguing that for younger learners, content area expertise
may not be as important as knowledge regarding how children learn. Preparation programs
for specialist music educators focus on music content knowledge and may shortchange im-
portant preparation regarding child development and inclusive practices such as universal
design for learning and culturally responsive education (Culp & Salvador, 2021; Salvador &
Culp, 2021).

Anchors for Authoring Inclusive Praxis

To enact inclusive praxis in ECME, a music specialist must function as an improvisational
artist within a web that is anchored by multiple domains of knowledge (see Figure 9.1).
While definitions of creativity are elusive and often contested (Burnard, 2012), we argue
that teachers engaging as improvisational artists enact varied creativities within this process.
Identifying a tendency to construe acts of creativity only in terms of novelty rather than
quality, Merker (2006) posited that there are multiple forms of creativities that exist and
require different qualities, depending on context. In the case of the teacher as improvisa-
tional artists, we see creativities emerging through educators operationalizing knowledge
anchored by four domains through musicking alone and with children.
The anchor domains are interdependent and non-hierarchical, and each is integral to
fostering the teacher creativities and child agency necessary to meet individual needs. The
 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist  95

Figure 9.1  Web with anchor domains.

four anchor domains are Child Development, Music Learning and Development, Universal
Design for Learning, and Culturally Responsive Education. The web centers on musical
experience. In the following section, we briefly define each anchor and offer ideas for music
educators working with three- to eight-year-old children. Each anchor encompasses an
extensive array of knowledge, so these exemplars represent only a limited introduction to
a myriad of options.

Child Development
Child development refers to “…Dynamic processes that reflect complex interplay between a
child’s biological characteristics and the environment” (NAEYC, 2020). Such development
occurs in cognitive, communication, emotional/behavioral, and physical/sensory domains
(see CDC, n.d.), and is influenced by environmental factors including family cultures. Crit-
ics of developmental approaches to education raise concerns that exclusive focus on ages,
stages, and milestones could result in teachers labeling or limiting children, or might turn
education into an axiomatic, teacher-dominated, or transactional encounter (Uprichard,
2008). Moreover, seminal research on child development predominantly sampled West-
ern, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic populations (Henrich et al., 2010).
We assert that inclusive praxis requires teachers to leverage deep understanding of child
development (ages, stages, and milestones) to design child-led engagements with develop-
mentally appropriate (see NAEYC, n.d.) and culturally informed instructional interactions
and materials. Such instruction builds on research regarding when and how neurotypical
children develop in each domain to create flexible, playful, joyful opportunities for children
to build on their strengths.
Interactions with children aged three to eight create ample opportunity for music ed-
ucators to apply knowledge of child development to meet individual needs. For example,
in the physical domain, children generally succeed with bilateral movements before those
that cross the midline, and gross motor movements develop before fine motor skills. This
and other more nuanced versions of this knowledge can help teachers offer supports and
challenges during movement activities. Cognitive developmental knowledge suggests par-
ticular ages when children enjoy imaginative play or benefit from extensive repetition.
Understanding emotional development can help music educators proactively teach skills
96  Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp
and routines that promote motivation and self-regulation. In the communication domain,
children change dramatically from age three to age eight, and many children are learning
more than one language. Knowing how to foster communication development and support
linguistic diversity is crucial for inclusive praxis. When applying knowledge of child devel-
opment, educators must avoid normative thinking about what a particular child “should”
do. Instead, teachers can utilize child development as one perspective on what children
might need and one set of ways to consider learner agency and creativities.

Music Learning and Development

In parallel with their development in other domains, children across cultures also develop
musically (McPherson, 2015). Indeed, some researchers assert music education begins in
the womb (Parncutt, 2015). Infants are musical connoisseurs (Trehub & Degé, 2015) and
toddlers experiment with singing, chanting, moving, and sounds in their environment. As
children mature, they sing and move with increasing musical accuracy within their encul-
turated musical contexts (Sheehan Campbell, 2010). Gordon (2013) proposed that young
children first acculturate (absorb) their musical culture, then imitate and assimilate to it,
before they will benefit from formal instruction.
Applying knowledge of music learning and development affects how music educators
approach young learners. Many caregivers respond to children’s vocalizations as attempts at
linguistic communication or treat children’s movements as attempts to change location or
control their environment (e.g., obtain objects). In contrast, music educators treat vocaliza-
tions and movements as if they are musical by responding with singing and incorporating
children’s movements into songs, chants, or dance (see Reynolds et al., 2020). Understand-
ing how singing voices develop (Rutkowski, 2013) and reflecting on common features
across children’s singing cultures (Howard, 2017) helps music educators select appropriate
repertoire for child interests and abilities and sing it in accessible vocal ranges. Teachers
who understand musical development introduce concepts through sound before showing
written notation and save discussions of music theory until after children have substantial
experience and maturity. For children aged three to eight, attention to musical develop-
ment means that most instruction is expressed orally and learned aurally, and that impro-
vised tonal and rhythm conversational exchanges are an important instructional technique
(see Gordon, 2013).

Universal Design for Learning

Universal Design (UD) is an architectural paradigm that researchers and practitioners have
transferred to education (e.g., Hall et al., 2012). In architecture, UD refers to building fea-
tures that increase a structure’s accessibility for a broad spectrum of people. For example,
people who use wheelchairs need to have ramps, but ramps are also useful for caregivers
pushing a stroller, people delivering heavy packages, and more. Optimally, architects em-
bed universal designs within the overall goals, aesthetic, and cost of a project.
In transferring UD from architecture to education, Hall et al. (2012) asserted that learners
are unique and varied and that teachers must design educational environments and inter-
actions that integrate supports and challenges. Thus, Universal Design for Learning (UDL)
includes three pillars: multiple means of engagement, multiple means of representation, and
multiple means of action and expression (see CAST, n.d.). Instead of retrofitting pre-­existing
plans to “accommodate” learning differences, a teacher utilizing UDL would collaborate
with students, families, and other teachers to proactively address student needs through
the lens of each of the pillars. Applying UDL to music education for children aged three to
 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist  97
eight creates opportunities and provides resources for music educators. Considering multi-
ple means of engagement, a teacher could apply knowledge of students’ interests and prior
musical knowledge to create lessons that motivate students to participate. A teacher might
represent musical skills and concepts through movement, props, imaginative play, creative
interaction, technology, and more. When considering multiple means of both engagement
and representation, a teacher must plan ahead for multiple activities and processes and re-
main willing to change based on student input and choice. Finally, a teacher applying UDL
provides multiple opportunities for children to demonstrate their learning, including the
choice to sing, move, play an instrument, record themselves, or use manipulatives. As the
teacher offers these options, they also remain open to students’ ideas and choices regarding
how they want to demonstrate their learning.

Culturally Responsive Education

To create inclusive praxis in ECME, educators also must understand theories and uti-
lize techniques associated with Culturally Responsive Education (CRE). Following
Bond (2017), we utilize CRE as a blanket term to encompass culturally relevant peda-
gogy, culturally responsive teaching, and culturally sustaining pedagogy (see Gay, 2010;
­Ladson-Billings, 2009; Paris & Alim, 2017). To enact CRE in ECME, teachers should pri-
oritize learning about family home musics and ensuring that child and family interests and
musical heritages are audible in music class. This process requires recognizing community
cultural wealth, which is “focus[ing] on and learn[ing] from the array of cultural knowl-
edge, skills, abilities and contacts possessed by socially marginalized groups that often go
unrecognized and unacknowledged” (Yosso, 2005, p. 69). Music that children make up can
be an important part of child agency and creating a collective music class culture. Teach-
ers could record children’s musical contributions during class or provide a singing station
where children can record themselves. In either case, the child-created music can become
a part of that class’s curriculum, in the moment and in future encounters. When selecting
music or creating songs together, teachers can practice cultural humility (see Tervalon &
Murray-Garcia, 1998 and work citing this seminal text) and striving not to impose their
frames on the music children create.

Activities and Processes

Considering music instruction anchored by four domains of knowledge, we envisioned
­music-making activities and processes as strong, flexible webbing interconnecting each an-
chor point (see Figure 9.2). To illustrate options for educators, we added music-making ac-
tivities (singing, moving, playing, and listening) and processes (create, perform, respond, and
connect) (NAfME, 2014). Each activity or process could happen alone or in connection with
other activities or processes, and none is given higher priority over others. Offering a variety
of music-making activities and processes creates ways to engage children, incorporate musi-
cal home cultures, represent information, and elicit child responses. Varying musical activi-
ties and processes also allows for child agency and choice throughout the musical experience.
To demonstrate how child creativity and agency are supported by the web, we stretched
the structure upward from the center of musical experience (see Figure 9.3). In inclusive
praxis, skill building is in service of each child’s ability to express their own ideas. Toivi-
ainen (2008) defined musical creativity as “any mental activity that produces new ideas and
concepts or new links between existing ideas or concepts” (p. 257). In ECME, creativities
could manifest as children making up their own musical ideas and engaging with ideas
presented by the teacher or peers. Moving up the central axis of our model implies a child
98  Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp

Figure 9.2  Anchored web with activities and processes.

Figure 9.3  Three-dimensional model of inclusive praxis.

creating music with increased musical sophistication, divergence, and elaboration. If the
model were tangible, a person could bend and turn the central pillar, demonstrating how
increased attention to one of the four pillars might promote a particular child’s increased
agency, musical achievement, or creativity. When imagining a lesson or interaction bend-
ing toward one anchor, we do not imply that musical development is in opposition to UDL,
or that CRE is the opposite of child development. The anchors are interrelated, equally
important, and mutually supportive. Individual children may simply need or desire instruc-
tional interactions that are more grounded in one or another.
Stretching the flat web into a three-dimensional structure illustrates child agency and
teacher scaffolding—this structure allows children choices, support, and challenges to foster
their creativities: individual agency within a collective experience.
 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist  99

Figure 9.4  Children locating themselves on the 3D web.

Individualism and Collectivism in Early Childhood

Recall that inclusive praxis addresses music classes for students from ages three to eight at
a school or center. When we designed the model, we imagined specialist music instructors
teaching 20–30 (or more) children at a time. In our experience, such educators often plan
by considering a whole early childhood or elementary/primary school class—or even an
entire grade level. They create a lesson plan based on curricular expectations (perhaps) and
methodology (maybe) but rarely consider individual children.
Our model contributes a way for teachers to design instruction that honors individual
agency within collective experience. If instruction is a web, centered on musical experience,
anchored by knowledge of child development, musical development, UDL, and CRE, then
children have agency to locate themselves on the web. In Figure 9.4, one child is higher
up and closer to an anchor point, and the other child is closer to the central pillar. Both are
fully immersed in the same experience, and yet experiencing it differently—in part because
they have the agency to explore. In seeking toward greater sophistication, divergence, and
elaboration, children in ECME enact choices about where to locate themselves on the web.
Considering instruction through our model encourages teachers to design and creatively
enact learning environments and activities that prioritize musical creativities and learner
agency for each individual and the group.

Teacher as Improvisational Artist

As Lily sings a song she wrote, 24 seven-year-olds flow with pulse. Lily leaves extended silence, and
then sings a stepwise tonal pattern. Taylor echoes the pattern accurately. Lily sings a different stepwise
pattern, which Taylor echoes. Recognizing that Taylor is ready for a new challenge, Lily adjusts and
sings an arpeggiated pattern, which Taylor matches in contour but not pitch. Lily repeats the pattern,
and Taylor tries again, still not quite accurate. Lily acknowledges Taylor’s efforts with a smile and turns
100  Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp
to Alex, returning to stepwise patterning since she knows Alex is not echoing accurately yet. Alex listens
and makes eye contact, but does not respond aloud. After offering another pattern, Lily shifts to the
other side of the room, offering an arpeggiated pattern to Ja’Shon. Laughing, Ja’Shon responds with
a different pattern in the same tonality. Lily and Ja’Shon engage in a musical “conversation” of tonal
patterns back and forth for about 20 seconds.
Lily notices the children’s interest in patterning is waning. She changes demeanor and energy level,
bounding off the floor to begin a creative movement experience. Knowing that this class went to the zoo
last week, Lily invites children to join her on an imaginary trip to the zoo and name animals they might
see. One child shouts “elephant,” while another giggles about a monkey. Lily invites children to try to
move like one, and then the other. While the children are moving, Lily is singing and taking notes on
each child’s beat movement. Shana does not get up or move through the room. At a pause in the singing,
Lily moves closer, inviting Shana to suggest an animal. Shana responds, “sloth.” Lily says, “Will you
show us how they move?” but Shana shakes her head to indicate “no.” Lily nods to acknowledge her
choice, and says to the class, “How about this?” moving with sustained effort. As she moves away from
Shana, she notices she begins to move her arm. Lily continues to move through the room and begins to
incorporate Shana’s movements into her own.
In this vignette, Lily offers options for children to engage in musical experiences by
relying on the anchors of inclusive praxis as well as the musical activities and processes she
has planned. She relies on her knowledge of developmentally appropriate practice for seven-
year-olds and combines it with her ability to assess students’ current musical development.
She tailors individual interactions with children to meet them where they are and challenge
them to move up the scaffold of musical complexity. Children are invited, but not required,
to respond within the group and individually with music and movement. Lily consistently
monitors each child’s progress and behaviors, honoring each as a musical choice, and re-
flecting on child actions when planning new activities. She used her knowledge of UDL
to plan multiple means of engagement and representation, and adapted in the moment.
Children draw upon their cultural backgrounds and prior knowledge to offer alternative
responses or ideas, which they know Lily will incorporate. Although she planned activities,
and she has instructional goals, Lily’s teaching is an act of improvisational artistry.
Sawyer (2011) argued that teaching is conversation, and every good conversation includes
improvisation. Perhaps because teaching is an improvised conversation, education involves
risk-taking: “To teach is to be human, to teach means to accept the fundamental weakness
of the purposeful, creative process we call education” (Kaihovirta, 2017, p. 14, paraphrasing
Biesta, 2013). When a teacher enacts inclusive praxis, they take risks by engaging on the
web alongside the children. This type of creative risk-taking is similar to what Cremin
et al. (2006) called “possibility thinking: posing questions, play, immersion, innovation,
risk-taking, being imaginative, and self-determination” (as cited in Sawyer, 2011, p 5).
Many musicians would use similar words to define musical improvisation.
Inclusive praxis can be conceptualized as a rhizome. Teacher and student impulses and
ideas can change the direction and/or domain of learning. The rhizome is sensitive and re-
sponsive to the acts of both students and teachers and shifts accordingly. Unlike a rhizome
that shifts of its own accord, however, improvisational music teaching is both the teacher
in the rhizome with the children and facilitating its adjustment from without—a seamless
interplay of being two things at once. Inclusive praxis is the art of being able to step outside
of the experience just enough to observe the shifting shape of the rhizome, while being
inside enough to experience and affect the shifts. This is an intuitive practice that is infused
with intentionality and reflexivity (see Chapter 36). In our model of inclusive praxis, the
structural integrity of the four domains and the central axis of musical experience ground
the teacher, the experience, the curriculum, and the students within an improvisational
process, which Sawyer (2011) called “an artful dance” (p. 3).
 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist  101
Planning Instruction as an Improvisational Artist-Teacher
In this chapter, we defined inclusive praxis and asserted that in order to enact inclusive praxis
with children aged three to eight, music educators must improvise instruction—weaving a
web of musical activities and processes, centered on musical experiences, anchored by knowl-
edge of child development, music learning and development, UDL, and CRE. Successful
improvisation involves extensive preparation, because extemporaneous musical creation still
occurs within a stylistic frame as well as tonal and metric context. Similarly, a teacher must
have a plan that is grounded in anchors of inclusive praxis and flexibility in the moment to
allow an activity to transform in a different direction based on child responses and interests.
The teacher must be well prepared and organized in order to be flexible and spontaneous.
Therefore, in addition to extensive study regarding each anchor and building a repertoire of
music and movement materials that reflect the communities where they teach, we suggest
teachers reexamine and adjust their process and implementation of instructional planning.

Sharing Power
Learning to be in the moment can be transformative for teaching practices, particularly when
teachers lean into both their preparation and their spontaneity enough to release control to
students. Enacting inclusive praxis means getting out of the way to allow for silence and child
leadership, creating a learning environment in which children learn from and teach one an-
other and create class musical cultures. Sharing power with children is crucial, because when
children lead, they show teachers their interests as well as demonstrating what they know and
can do. To teach improvisationally is to take risks and refocus the educational experience—
decentering teacher actions and desires and centering children and their creativities.
Sharing power is not the same as abdicating responsibility or ignoring positionality.
Teachers have considerable positional power, and they are responsible for establishing safe
and nurturing learning environments in collaboration with students. Further, evidence in-
dicates children’s musical creativity is affected by task structure (e.g., Burnard & Younker,
2002). Free play and free improvisation empower some children, but leave other children
confused or frustrated. Varying the degree and type of freedom and constraint within
power sharing is another way to meet individual student needs. For example, if children are
creating a melody, a teacher might offer a few harmonic accompaniment loops for children
to consider. Or, a teacher could offer five to ten poems children might use to inspire their
melody. At another time, children could engage in free improvisation, with the constraint
that the teacher selects instruments (perhaps xylophones) and tonality (perhaps pentatonic).

Lesson Planning Structures

To enact inclusive praxis, a teacher must rethink lesson planning structures. Preservice
teachers often learn to make a linear lesson plan or set of activities and outcomes. Such plans
may not account for individual student interests, cultures, or day-to-day variations in mood
and energy. Even within a single school building, different children/groups need different
things, and teachers can and should adjust interactions and materials. In inclusive praxis,
a teacher might prepare a lesson menu rather than a linear lesson plan. A lesson menu is a
list of instructional ideas and materials utilizing different activities and processes and em-
ploying strategies grounded in each of the four anchors. Teachers and students select what
should happen next in the moment based on engagement and interest. Should they continue
a current engagement longer, perhaps extending it by eliciting child ideas? Do the children
need a change in energy level or music genre? Does a particular child need to respond out
102  Karen Salvador and Erika J. Knapp
loud or move? The lesson menu provides flexibility for the teacher to be responsive to both
individuals and groups and is designed to support a spiral curriculum (Bruner, 1960).
One key to successfully incorporating a lesson menu is having strategies to track both
individual and group progress and process. The teacher must constantly wonder, “where
is this class and what do they need?” as well as “what is each individual showing me about
their interests, strengths, and needs?” In order to understand individual progress, teachers
create ample opportunities for children to respond alone by talking, moving, singing, and
chanting existing and improvised musical ideas. To aid their recall of child contributions
and responses, teachers can use checklists or rating scales (Reynolds et al., 2020). In inclu-
sive praxis, such instruments are not evaluative, but are used to describe responses for plan-
ning and interaction purposes. Tracking the children’s responses and musical ideas enables
the teacher to monitor individual (and group) progression through the spiral curriculum.
In the moment, tracking child responses guides the improvisational teacher-artist’s choices
about when to reinforce concepts or move on to a new musical concept. In the long term,
reflecting on individual contributions becomes integral to the teacher’s planning process.

Scaffolding for Learners

In inclusive praxis, child agency manifests through enacted creativities as children situate
themselves on the web. However, teachers must set up an environment where this is possi-
ble by mobilizing their own creativities to provide scaffolding on which children can locate
themselves. These scaffolds can be built by utilizing the four anchors within the plan-teach-
reflect cycle. For example, a teacher scaffolds when they utilize UDL to plan for multiple
means for engagement, representation, action, and expression. A teacher might also offer a
family survey or exit ticket to discover what kids are listening to at home, or where students
make music outside of school. When crafting the lesson menu, a teacher can scaffold by basing
instruction on child responses and interests in terms of pacing, activity selection and creation.
Other scaffolds arise within improvised instruction, when a teacher makes creative
choices that bend the web toward different anchors. For example, a teacher can bend the
web toward CRE by offering opportunities for individual musical response, especially in
situations where a variety of responses are possible and all responses, including no response,
are “right.” Alternatively, a teacher might scaffold for learners by structuring different ac-
tivities with combinations of homogeneous and heterogeneous groupings of students. Ho-
mogenous groupings by musical ability can bend the web toward musical sequencing and
support students who need further musical complexity, while heterogeneous groupings by
musical ability might bend the web toward UDL, giving each student a job and equally
valuing each student’s contribution.

Summary and Implications

In this chapter we propose ECME classes for children aged three to eight can be equitable
spaces, where individual children are known, seen, and heard within a collective and can
exercise agency in creating their experience. We believe robust knowledge of child devel-
opment, music learning and development, UDL, and CRE anchor inclusive praxis. We
assert that the teacher must act as an improvisatory artist, weaving knowledge from the
four anchors within musical activities and processes. We argue the teacher’s improvisational
creativities build spaces for children to exercise agency and engage in their own creativities.
Improvisation is rarely a part of the discourse on music teacher education (Kaihovirta,
2017). However, the path to inclusive praxis must start with preservice educators develop-
ing secure knowledge within each of the four anchors and seeing themselves as competent
 Teacher-as-Improvisational Artist  103
when improvising musical interactions. Early-career teachers must not only master instruc-
tional planning but also understand inclusive praxis so they are ready to improvise instruc-
tion in the moment. Therefore, preservice teachers need to see improvisational teaching
artistry modeled, learn to plan for flexible musical interactions, practice musical interactions
with children, and reflect on student responses.
Implementing inclusive praxis as an improvisational artist may seem daunting. We urge
readers to take small steps and be consistent. Here are a few starters:

• Take a “menu” approach to an existing lesson plan by altering the order and length of
activities based on children’s interest.
• Create opportunities for student choice and leadership in at least one activity per class.
• Learn an activity in which students create improvised tonal or rhythm conversations.
• Read more about each of the four sets of anchor knowledge.
• Implement strategies to keep records of individual child progress.
• Revise or add one activity each month that addresses each pillar of UDL.
• Select one grade level and send home an intake form (see Reynolds et al., 2020) to find
out more about students’ home musical cultures.

Whatever they try, teachers would be wise to remember that attempting new skills and ac-
tivities and sharing power may not go as planned. We urge music educators to remain open
to this improvisational artistry, recognizing and modeling that mistakes are a natural part
of learning. We encourage teachers to continue developing their reflexive improvisational
teaching artistry in order to create more equitable music education for children.

Questions for Consideration

1 Consider an early childhood or elementary music class you are familiar with and com-
pare it to the model presented. What shifts might be necessary to bring it more in line
with an inclusive praxis model?
2 What is the significance of the model being able to bend toward different anchors at any
given time, or with individual children?
3 How would you advocate for the value of a lesson menu instead of a traditional lesson
plan with an administrator or fine arts coordinator?
4 What skills will you need to develop to engage in your own teacher creativities, in
order to support student creativities in EMCE settings?

Notes
1 Vignettes in this chapter are prototypical depictions of authors’ observations and teaching experiences.
2 In this chapter, early childhood music education (ECME) refers to music classes taught by a specialist
music educator for groups of children aged three to eight (pre-K through third grade in US schools).
While early childhood includes children aged birth to three by definition (UNESCO, n.d.), care and
education differ for ages birth to three and caregivers often attend music classes (Salvador, 2019). We
do not limit our discussion to certified music educators, because other paths to specializing in ECME
are prevalent around the world.

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10 Video Clubs as Catalysts for
Developing Music Educators’
Creative Music Making Practices
Donna Gallo

Three elementary music educators collectively view a video-recorded excerpt of fifth-grade students,
organized in small groups, composing together in a school music classroom. One group performs an
original step dance routine they have entitled, “Angry Parents,” as they refine their choreography com-
plete with singing and percussion instruments. Another group in the background continuously repeats
the same rhythmic pattern while experimenting with floor drums of various sizes, pitches, and timbres.
Yet another group discusses lyrics for their song, “Happiness,” as one group member plunks out chords
on the piano. To outsiders, the room might look like and sound chaos; yet the three educators study the
groups closely, documenting their dialogue, commenting on their creative decisions, and noting when
students seem to have success, frustration, confusion, and cohesion. Rebecca, the teacher of the class,
points to the step dancing group, commenting:

This group is picky about everything they do, which is really interesting to me because
they never got mad at each other in making compositional choices. They were the most
organized group even though they never wrote anything down beyond their initial
brainstorm. Everything was set in their minds and their conversations revolved around
how to refine their work.

Maria, an elementary music educator at a different school, emphasizes,

When I was watching, I could see that the kids are really focused when they are
interacting. They seemed really zoned into what they’re doing. If you watch my
video, half of the kids aren’t even doing the actual assignment. This makes me won-
der how you set this project up so that students were motivated to collaborate and
create…

Peter, another elementary music educator in the district, chimes in: “I also noticed that each group is so
different and it seems like you really gave them free reign to do whatever they wanted.” The three edu-
cators engage in a deep conversation about pedagogical strategies for eliciting students’ musical creativities
and supporting their compositional visions. Based on their analysis of the video-recorded excerpt and
the conversation about students’ creative music making that emerged from this shared experience, each
educator leaves with at least one instructional idea to implement.
The diverse compositional processes and products in this vignette illustrate how students’
musical preferences for various styles, media, and forms influenced their musical creations.
Students drew inspiration from a wealth of musical knowledge and expertise, co-creating
music in their small groups shaped by sociocultural influences within and outside of the
school. They continuously refined their work through making both collaborative decisions
and artistic compromises. Rebecca’s vision for “bringing the community” into her school
enabled her to continuously affirm students’ personal musicianship by

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-12
 Video Clubs  107
Just letting kids be their musical selves in here without putting my mask on them or
putting my music always on them. And then, their neighborhoods come in, and then
their cultures come in, or their preferences. And then I feel like their families trust me
and so then I build on that.

In Rebecca’s classroom, students are empowered to engage with and build upon their musical
creativities (Burnard, 2012). Burnard’s (2012) pluralistic term, musical creativities, acknowledges
that individuals engage in a broad, dynamic set of creative musical practices, informed by their
cultures, environments, societies, and so forth. Consequently, there is no one way to be mu-
sically creative. As Burnard describes, “…musical creativities assume many forms, and serve
many diverse functions, and are deeply embedded in the dynamic flux and mutation of a mu-
sician’s personal and sociocultural life” (p. 213). In this chapter, musical creativities refers to indi-
viduals’ unique musical values, knowledge, skills, and ideas. Creative music making refers to the
act of creating music in a broad sense, encompassing practices from diverse styles, genres, and
cultures such as improvising, producing, arranging, emceeing, songwriting, and composing.
Music educators’ instructional practices for creative music making are influenced by
many factors such as their own musical creativities, their experience in facilitating crea-
tive music making, and their perspectives of students’ musical creativities (Langley, 2018;
Niknafs, 2013; Randles, 2009). While music educators in the United States tend to agree
on the importance of including creative music making experiences in school music cur-
ricula (Fairfield, 2010; Langley, 2018; Niknafs, 2013; Piazza & Talbot, 2021; Schopp,
2006), some educators report limited instructional time (Fairfield, 2010; Schopp, 2006;
Whitcomb, 2005) or a lack of confidence for teaching creative music making (Bernhard,
2014; Fairfield, 2010; Langley, 2018). Pre-service music educators in the United States
may have limited experiences with creating music on their own or during their degree
programs due to curricular expectations for the study of Western art music and the em-
phasis on performance through the recreation of classical works (Campbell et al., 2016).
Consequently, in-service educators who seek to empower students’ musical creativities
in P-12 settings may need to pursue in-depth and meaningful professional development
(PD) opportunities for teaching or facilitating creative music making once out in the field.
What professional learning experiences could shape in-service educators’ teaching prac-
tices in ways that promote students’ musical creativities? Research regarding how or to
what extent PD influences music educators’ practices has yielded tenuous and inconsistent
findings, and this research is not specific to in-service teacher learning for creative music
making. There is no one-size-fits-all PD structure that can account for the infinite personal
and professional factors that influence in-service educators’ growth and changes to practice.
However, educational researchers in non-music disciplines continue to study characteristics
of “high-quality” PD, or those that are linked to higher teacher job satisfaction, docu-
mented changes to teachers’ instructional practices, and positive effects on student learn-
ing. These characteristics commonly include (1) a focus on developing teachers’ content or
pedagogical content knowledge; (2) opportunities for active learning among educators in
which they construct or co-construct knowledge through the process; (3) collaboration in
teacher communities where educators share practices and develop instruction together; (4)
engagements that are longer in duration since changes to instruction typically evolve over
time; and (5) teacher autonomy, choice, or voluntariness (Darling-­Hammond et al., 2017;
Desimone & Garet, 2015; Desimone et al., 2013; Penuel et al., 2007).
Music education researchers have primarily investigated the efficacy of these high-quality
PD opportunities through documenting the ways in which teachers navigate instructional in-
itiatives in learning communities (Kastner, 2012; Sindberg, 2013; Stanley, 2009). The learning
communities enabled educators to plan for more autonomy and small group collaboration in
108  Donna Gallo
their teaching (Stanley, 2009), to provide more aural-based musical making activities (Kastner,
2012), or to adopt instructional practices aligned with Comprehensive Musicianship through
Performance (CMP) in band ensembles (Sindberg, 2013). These teacher groups met together
multiple times over several months, resulting in deep conversations about student thinking and
understandings, shared pedagogical strategies, and co-constructed approaches for teaching in
ways that were unfamiliar to them (Kastner, 2012; Sindberg, 2013; Stanley, 2009).
Within teacher learning community settings, scholars assert that the collective analysis
of video-recorded classroom instruction provides teachers with the opportunity to share
effective practices and interpret student thinking in ways that may promote instructional
changes (Beisiegel, Mitchell, & Hill, 2018; Borko, Eiteljorg, & Pittman, 2008; Sherin,
2003; Sindberg, 2013). As van Es et al. (2014) state, “Video captures the authenticity and
complexity of teaching and can promote the examination of classroom interactions in a de-
liberate and focused way” (p. 340). Music educators who seek to improve or expand upon
their teaching for creative music making may benefit from collectively examining video
excerpts where they focus on students’ thinking and creative processes. Through these ex-
changes, educators may develop deeper understandings of students’ musical creativities and
they may share pedagogical strategies or approaches.

Video Clubs for Facilitating Creative Music Making Instruction

Given the promising research findings regarding video analysis in teacher learning community
settings, I offer insights into how video analysis may influence music educators’ creative music
making instruction. Other chapters in this section offer perspectives on how young children
engage in musical exploration as an integral part of their creative processes and the ways in
which educators may nurture and expand upon children’s musical creativities in school set-
tings. This chapter focuses on the ways in which professional learning experiences may serve
as catalysts for educators to develop or expand upon their creative music making pedagogies,
particularly in elementary school settings. I provide the following considerations: (1) elements
of structure for collective analysis of video-recorded instruction that could be most influential
to educators’ practices, (2) benefits that may emerge from collective video analysis of creative
music making instruction, and (3) ideas for implementing this type of PD given the potential
challenges. In the below section, I draw on scholarship, both within and outside of music edu-
cation, related to in-service teacher learning communities where educators analyzed excerpts
of video-recorded instruction. I link the literature to highlights of a music teacher learning
community within one school district where elementary general music teachers (grades K-5)
developed compositional tasks and analyzed excerpts of their instruction during community
meetings. I refer to these learning community meetings as “video clubs” (Sherin, 2003),
where educators collectively analyze video excerpts, discuss student thinking and responses,
reflect upon those understandings in relation to their own instruction, and enact pedagogical
changes. I also refer to this group of educators as the “Prairie Fields Video Club.” Music edu-
cators in this community were prompted to link their pedagogical strategies and instructional
interactions to students’ creative musical processes, decisions, and products. The evidence and
examples provided are excerpted from music teachers’ recorded conversations during video
club meetings and the perspectives they shared in interviews.

Context and Description of Video Club Participants

As a music education faculty member working at a large public university in the Midwestern
region of the United States, I often collaborate with local music educators for various purposes.
Maria,1 the music coordinator and an elementary music educator in the local Prairie Fields
school district, and I coordinated the learning community and video clubs, a PD opportunity
 Video Clubs  109
offered to all 12 elementary general music educators in the Prairie Fields school district. Fund-
ing for the Prairie Fields Video Club was provided through the school district and a research
grant. All 12 elementary music educators in the district participated in the learning community
and five educators committed to recording and sharing video excerpts in video club meetings.
The scope of this chapter unfortunately precludes me from describing the five contrib-
uting educators’ rich and varied musical and professional lives as educators. Most relevant
here are their histories with creating music and their professional teaching experience.
Maria, Jared, Heather, and Rebecca had more than ten years of public-school music teach-
ing experience while Kate was in her fifth year of teaching at the time of these video club
meetings. Jared plays the guitar, sings, and writes songs for his local rock band. Maria plays
in a local big band where she is learning to improvise on the clarinet in various styles. Re-
becca described her encounters with creating music as “limited,” but acknowledged that
her background in musical theater and as a lead singer in a cover band offered some oppor-
tunities for songwriting and vocal improvisation. Heather and Kate described themselves
as primarily performance-oriented musicians, citing their creative musical experiences as
limited to college theory course exercises.

Structuring Video Clubs for Creative Music Making Instruction

The vast number of theoretical and research literature in non-music educational disci-
plines provides some guidance on how video clubs may be structured in ways that are
most conducive to teacher learning and change. Whether music educators analyze videos
of themselves or of other educators’ classrooms, these experiences provide opportunities
for self-reflection (Bautista, Tan, et al., 2019) and may prompt teachers to think deeply
about their roles as instructors in relation to their students’ musical creativities (Odena &
Welch, 2009). Importantly, the video club model is no “silver bullet” solution for pro-
moting teachers’ learning and positive instructional changes. As in any teacher learning
community, collegial relationships of mutual trust and respect, developing analytic mind-
sets for viewing videos, and time to implement and reflect upon instructional changes are
all critical factors that shape teachers’ learning (Borko, Koellener, Jacobs, & Seago, 2011;
Sherin & van Es, 2009; Sindberg, 2013). Given the complexity of students’ musical cre-
ativities and the roles those creativities play in music instruction, video clubs that occur
over a longer period—at the very least, one academic year—are more likely to result in
changes to teachers’ thinking and practices than short-term workshops meetings. Addi-
tionally, guidance from facilitators who can help educators select video excerpts and assist
in identifying important moments of student thinking or responses plays an important role
in video clubs (van Es et al., 2014). However, it is also important for music educators, par-
ticularly in the context of creative music making instruction, to have some autonomy over
what they discuss without redirection from a facilitator. An optimal video club structure
for music educators focused on creative musical making practices might include a balance
between facilitated, focused experiences and teacher-led or teacher-initiated discussions.

The Prairie Fields Video Club Structure

Maria and I situated our roles as facilitators for the video clubs, but also encouraged par-
ticipating educators to lead discussions and model creative projects they had developed on
their own. Educators volunteered to participate in the learning community—eight full-day
meetings over a nine-month period—and in the video clubs that took place during six of the
eight community meetings. Since many of the elementary music educators primarily iden-
tified as Western art musicians and reported the teaching of standard notation as an instruc-
tional focus, Maria and I selected the book Music Outside the Lines (2012) by music education
110  Donna Gallo
scholar, Maud Hickey. We surmised that the book could serve as an inspirational framework
for educators to enact more aural-based, imaginative, and divergent thinking practices, and
the compositional prompts Hickey provides could be helpful starting places for educators
who were less familiar with teaching composition. Each of the eight days included some of
the following activities: (1) discussing or selecting creative prompts from the book for class-
room experimentation, (2) engaging in small group video club discussions for approximately
60–90 minutes, (3) teacher-led creative activities/demonstrations, and (4) discussions about
integrating creative music making in the school district’s music curriculum.
Teachers selected and modified prompts from the book to implement as projects during
the fall and spring semesters. Volunteers provided video excerpts (3–7 minutes) from all
creativity-related instruction they had recorded on wide-angle cameras positioned in the
back of their classrooms. Additionally, they used handheld point-of-view (POV) action
cameras to capture small group or individual students during moments that they deemed
to be important or noteworthy in relation to students’ creative processes and products. Ed-
ucators shared video excerpts for analysis during the beginning, middle, and end of each
project and were encouraged to discuss what they thought was important. Additionally,
Maria and I provided guiding questions such as,

What evidence in the video do you have to support how students are engaging in
creative music making? How do students discuss their ideas together? Based on what
you see the students doing in the video, what is something similar or different that you
observed from students in your class at the start of this project?

As facilitators, Maria and I sometimes intervened to help educators focus discussions on

the students—their conversations, musical explorations, creative processes, and creative
­products—and moments where teachers provided helpful pedagogical strategies or supports.

The Benefits of Video Clubs for Facilitating Creative Music Making

Experiences

Promoting Student-Oriented Thinking and Self-Reflection

In their extensive literature review of 255 research studies conducted in Asia, Europe, Oce-
ania, and North America and across multiple educational disciplines, Gaudin and Chaliès
(2015) identified benefits to teachers’ learning and potential effects on their teaching be-
cause of video viewing and analysis. Among these benefits were the effects video analysis
had on educators’ selective attention and their ability to center students’ thinking. Gaudin
and Chaliès (2015) concluded that video analysis embedded in professional learning con-
texts can enable educators to identify the most relevant instructional events while shifting
their attention from the teachers’ activities to focus on students’ thinking and responses in
ways that deepen their instructional interpretations. Within music education, most research
findings on video analysis in professional learning contexts indicate that the process pro-
motes educators’ self-reflection upon instruction (Bautista, Tan, et al., 2019). Both live and
video-mediated observations of music instruction may allow in-service music educators to
identify and reflect upon effective teaching strategies as they predict how students would
respond to the strategies in their own classrooms (Bautista, Wong, et al., 2019). Taking all
these findings into account from both music and non-music education literature, the pro-
cess of analyzing videos may prompt in-service music educators to develop more complex
and nuanced understandings of students’ creative musical thinking. In turn, these under-
standings could inform how they plan for future creative music making experiences.
 Video Clubs  111
Student Thinking-Oriented Conversations and Reflections in the Prairie Fields
Video Club
Music educators in the Prairie Fields Video Club directed their attention and conversations
toward how the social environment and the educator’s pedagogical decisions promoted or
inhibited students’ creative thinking and processes. They discussed the importance of (1)
establishing trust among and between students and the teacher, (2) “letting go” of control to
provide more student autonomy and to encourage group problem-solving, (3) asking open-
ended questions about students’ creative decisions to elicit their thinking, (4) facilitating brief
exercises with open-ended musical possibilities, (5) encouraging risk-taking and experiment-
ing with new ideas, and (6) providing enough foundational knowledge or starting points so
that students could confidently create compositions independently. These conditions for crea-
tivity were embedded into many of the group’s conversations as they questioned why students
might be having trouble making creative decisions, where students appeared to be “stuck”
due to a lack of creative ideas, or when activity parameters hindered their creative visions.
In one video club exchange, Kate noticed that she intervened with a small group of stu-
dents because she thought they were “off-task and disruptive.” After analyzing the episode,
Kate reflected that the group’s experimentation with different rhythmic variations and tex-
tures, combined with their excited verbal exchanges, seemed chaotic in the moment. In the
end, Kate concluded that her need to intervene was the actual “disrupter” since students’
creative momentum was temporarily halted. Eventually, the students continued their crea-
tive exploration and by the end of class, they performed a rhythmically complex variation of
their original melody. Kate acknowledged, “maybe they don’t even need me,” as she con-
sidered the importance of knowing when to intervene and when to step back and observe.
Jared echoed a similar sentiment after analyzing and discussing his instructional excerpts
in a video club. As a songwriter who fuses various genres or styles of music into his work,
Jared articulated his desire to share the same joy and fulfillment through the creative pro-
cess with students. Sometimes, he noted, this desire manifested in his need to “over-assist”
students and exert classroom control:

So, my biggest thing is that I need to remember to back the hell off, and just let them
do their thing, and then shape it gently as it happens, because that’s how stuff gets made
anyway…I truly feel that you have to, you’ve gotta let it go. And if it gets a little loud,
then it gets a little loud, if it gets a little unruly, then it gets a little unruly…it has to
be like that and that is my struggle because I like to be in control of things. So…the
environment has to be free enough for them to be able to feel comfortable to express.

Each educator expressed internal tensions as their instinct to step in and help was tempered
by their conscious efforts to refrain from disrupting students’ creative processes. As each ed-
ucator endeavored to provide more flexibility and freedom, their roles evolved from leaders
to creative facilitators.

Teacher Noticing and Instructional Changes

Video analysis as a professional learning activity has also shown to promote educators’ abili-
ties to notice important instructional events and to respond to those events in ways that best
support student learning ( Jacobs, Lamb, & Philipp, 2010; van Es & Sherin, 2008). Educators
learn to adopt, adapt, change, or even develop new pedagogical strategies in the moment; in
other words, they strengthen their improvisatory teaching practices. In a study focused on
what high school jazz educators notice while viewing video excerpts of their jazz improvi-
sation instruction, Ankney (2014) found that experienced educators noticed episodes where
112  Donna Gallo
their “in-the-moment” decision making was directly tied to their knowledge of students’
personal musicianship and learning styles. In turn, these interactions resulted in what the
educators described as more complex and confident improvisations. Ankney concluded
that video analysis may engender educators’ abilities to notice and respond to students’
creative music making in ways that are informed by their knowledge of students’ personal
musicianship. Along these same lines, video analysis may shape how educators improvise
instructional strategies to empower students’ creativity (Ankney, 2014).

Teacher Noticing and Instructional Changes in the Prairie Fields Video Clubs
Educators in the Prairie Fields Video Clubs were encouraged to document what they noticed
about students such as their creative ideas, thinking, or processes. Over time, their conversa-
tions and reflections informed how the educators responded to students during instruction.
For example, Jared provided a video example to illustrate how one student created a mel-
ody that Jared described as “complex and intentional,” yet when questioned about how the
student developed the melody, the student replied, “I just thought it sounded good.” Jared’s
intention with showing the clip was to prompt a discussion on how to help students connect
their creative work to their own musical understandings. Maria and Rebecca affirmed this
challenge as they both observed students in their classrooms who were confident in their
musical ideas but were unable to articulate a rationale for their creative decisions. The three
educators discussed the importance of finding spontaneous “teachable moments” where they
could help students connect their creative decisions to developing musical understandings us-
ing musical language. In turn, these musical understandings might lead to more meaningful
and intentional work, and the students’ use of musical language could enable them to effec-
tively articulate their creative challenges when seeking assistance. Jared, Maria, and Rebecca
also concluded that these spontaneous discussions may not be beneficial to all students. For
students who seem to hit a creative “wall,” educators can improvise musical ideas or choices
through trial and error until students identify an idea that aligns with their creative vision.
Importantly, the educators’ dialogue was focused on noticing students’ creative processes
and responding, in the moment, with a strategy that would best support their creative work.
In a separate video club discussion, Heather and Jared reflected on the creative parameters
they employed, specifically with limiting pitches to the C pentatonic scale and the ways
in which this common pedagogical practice could conflict with students’ creative ideas.
Jared noticed a student in his video excerpt who created a more “elaborate and interesting”
diatonic-based melody because the student disregarded the C pentatonic melodic param-
eter. Heather described a similar circumstance as one student group attempted to create a
“scary-sounding” melody with C pentatonic scale pitches. She described,

…They discovered that it’s hard to make something that sounds scary if you’ve got a
pentatonic scale…So they sort of had to go through that moment of, this is really hard,
I don’t know if I want this, to go…well, maybe that’s what I don’t want in my compo-
sition if I’m choosing scary for my feeling.

During this moment, Heather decided to intervene, offering the suggestion for adding half
steps (a full diatonic scale) to the xylophones. Both Heather and Jared reflected that limiting
pitch sets might be “liberating” for some students who want to avoid dissonances; yet for
other students, limiting melodic possibilities may also limit their creative vision.
Through these analytical learning experiences, educators noticed students’ musical
strengths such as skills for playing instruments, their complex and intentional—and some-
times unintentional—ideas and ways in which students worked through creative problems
 Video Clubs  113
toward satisfying solutions. Educators considered their instructional role and the impor-
tance of nuanced interactions informed by each student’s unique creative musical expertise.
Additionally, educators were prompted to reexamine some of their common pedagogical
strategies as they considered the strengths and weaknesses of creative parameters. Thus, the
video clubs influenced both the educators’ instructional planning and their improvisatory
teaching practices in ways that were shaped by their knowledge of students.

Developing, Sharing, and Inspiring Pedagogical Practices

Educators who collectively analyze videos have also shown to share ideas while expanding
upon their pedagogical knowledge (Gaudin & Chaliès, 2015). Sindberg (2013), in a study
of seven band directors implementing Comprehensive Musicianship through Performance
practices, found that the sharing of video excerpts in a learning community setting “…Il-
lustrated each teacher’s distinct process as they experimented with this approach” (p. 208).
The educators also co-constructed pedagogical ideas such as creating metaphors for teach-
ing ensemble balance (Sindberg, 2013). The video club structure—with multiple educators
analyzing the same video excerpts—offers opportunities for educators to exchange ideas
using video evidence to support the efficacy of a particular strategy or instructional tool.

Developing, Sharing, and Inspiring Pedagogical Practices in the Prairie Fields

Video Clubs
The five Prairie Fields educators drew inspiration from each other’s practices as they im-
plemented compositional activities. Heather, for example, had students select a painting or
image that depicted the same emotions they wanted to convey through their compositions. In
small compositional groups, students annotated the paintings using color, text, symbols, etc.
as a type of musical score to record their ideas. Students performed their compositions for the
class while displaying their musical scores, and each small group taught their composition to
another group using their annotated picture notations. Jared was excited by this strategy and
adopted a similar idea—the use of paintings as a musical score—for a project involving theme
and variations. Similarly, Kate and Maria articulated challenges with helping students find
concrete musical ways to express emotions through music. Rebecca’s video excerpt prompted
a deep discussion about how storytelling may anchor students’ creative thinking as they
generate sounds to reflect emotions. In subsequent lessons, Kate read children’s books where
emotions played a central role in the stories as she encouraged students to experiment with
various sounds to convey the emotions. Maria had students who narrate their own stories
using a preferred medium (e.g., text, pictures, a short graphic novel) and encouraged students
to connect the emotional ideas in their stories to a particular sound, pattern, or musical idea.
Beyond sharing pedagogical strategies and tools, educators’ priorities for, and conceptions
of, creative music making evolved through the video clubs. Heather expressed her hesitancy
to incorporate jazz into creative music making experiences since she is not, herself, a jazz
musician. However, watching Jared’s students create jazz-inspired compositions inspired
Heather to see the possibilities in her own teaching:

He [ Jared] has such a strong jazz influence but bringing that into his classroom it was
interesting to see him incorporate that into the projects he was working on, and it
seemed like it really carried over to his students. Like he is very passionate about it and
it’s not something I’m as comfortable teaching, so it was just interesting to see how he
was bringing that into his classroom and how the students had kind of taken their own
twist with what he’d been doing.
114  Donna Gallo
Rebecca gained “fresh perspectives and possibilities” from other educators and the valuable
conversations led her to prioritize students’ creative processes over their products:

I think music teaching is so exposed a lot of times and we often want it to be perfect.
We want the kids to look great because we know it reflects on us…But what goes on
behind the curtain, behind the closed doors is like the good stuff that we all enjoy, and
such a narrow view of the product is such a narrow view of all that we do.

Conclusions
Video clubs have the potential to provide in-service educators with an array of learning
opportunities especially for developing and expanding upon creative music making ap-
proaches. Notably, the Prairie Fields Video Clubs provided educators with time to learn.
They had time to develop analytic mindsets for viewing videos, time to consider how
creative prompts and the classroom environment empowered or challenged students, time
to adopt or adapt new strategies, and time to discuss these important instructional aspects
with trusted colleagues. The structure of the video clubs combined with the collaborative
and collegial spirit of the participating educators allowed them to see the need for change
and the many ways in which students would benefit from that change.
Despite the myriad of potential beneficial learning outcomes, there are several consider-
ations for establishing and sustaining music teacher video clubs. Educators typically rely on
these types of longer-term, collaborative activities to be initiated, organized, funded, and
sustained by their schools or school districts where financial and organizational feasibility
may be a concern. In cases where schools cannot fund video clubs, educators who are in-
spired to participate in this type of PD could form their own ad hoc virtual or in-person
groups. Additionally, researchers or university faculty members interested in studying mu-
sic teacher learning through communities and/or video clubs can partner with local school
district educators and administrators to establish these groups. Researchers can pursue grant
funding for these opportunities, perhaps in collaboration with matching funds from school
districts, and may also serve as facilitators for the video clubs. These types of partnerships
have the potential to provide mutually beneficial outcomes and can strengthen relationships
between the university and P-12 school communities.
Video clubs require educators to deprivatize their practice, placing them in positions
where they might feel vulnerable. Given optimal circumstances, being vulnerable may
lead to deeper, more meaningful learning. However, mandating this type of job-embed-
ded PD could backfire, leading some educators to become wary or resentful of unfamil-
iar or uncomfortable professional requirements. Therefore, video club participation should
be voluntary or optional. Group facilitators or leaders may also consider using “stock”
­v ideos—excerpts of school music instruction in which the participants are unknown to
video club educators—as starting places for newly formed teacher communities. As edu-
cators develop the mutual respect and trust that is vital to the success of these groups, they
may be more inclined to share videos of their own instruction.
Video clubs should also include a balance of facilitation and teacher autonomy. While
educators ought to have space to discuss what they think is important, facilitators can as-
sist with analyzing instructional moments and keeping discussions focused (van Es et al.,
2014). Participating video club educators can rotate the responsibility of group facilitation,
or “outsiders” such as local university faculty or administrators may be invited to assume
this role. Despite the many complexities and structural considerations, video clubs offer
in-service music educators vibrant opportunities to learn from other teacher experts, to see
new ideas and approaches through students’ perspectives, and to continue evolving their
practices in ways that empower students’ knowledge and musical creativities.
 Video Clubs  115
Questions for Consideration
1 How might video clubs benefit educators of all experience levels and how could their
own musical creativities and various expertise for facilitating creative music making be
distributed in this type of collaborative setting?
2 Consider how video clubs could shape educators’ practices—and potentially the devel-
opment of their own musicianship—for musical creativities aligned with popular music
practices such as songwriting, audio production, emceeing, DJing, arranging, and so forth.
3 How could video clubs focused on creative music making approaches inform similar
practices in teacher preparation programs? How could peer teaching play a central role
in this type of learning experience?
4 Participating educators in these video clubs accepted the vulnerable nature of sharing
video-recorded instruction as they deprivatized their practice. How might “stock” vid-
eos (where the educator and students are not known to the video club participants) play
an important role in teacher learning communities where trust and collegiality may not
yet be established?

Acknowledgment
Donna J. Gallo https://orcid.org/0000-0003-2254-4773
The project detailed in this chapter was funded through a Research Support Award grant
awarded by the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign’s Campus Research Board.

Note
1 All names of educators and the school district are pseudonyms.

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11 Where Does That Go? Responding
to Disruption in Higher Education
through Technology and Creativities
amidst the COVID-19 Pandemic
Malachi Apudo-Achola

Introduction
As COVID-19 pandemic continues spreading in many countries across the world, how to
keep learning in the grips of disruption has become a major challenge to the global edu-
cation community. COVID-19 has affected the education sector globally, resulting to the
near-complete closure of schools, colleges and universities across many countries. On 23rd
March 2020, Cambridge International Examinations (CIE) gave a brief shelving of Cam-
bridge International AS & A Level, Cambridge IGCSE, Cambridge AICE Diploma and
Cambridge Pre-U exams for May/June 2020 series across all states. International Baccalau-
reate (IBO) and the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music (ABRSM) graded ex-
amination May/June 2020 series were also suspended across the World (UNESCO, 2020).
As stated by UNESCO Director-General Audrey Azoulay (2020):

We are entering uncharted territory and working with countries to find Hi-tech, low-
tech and no-tech solutions to assure the continuity of learning.

Drawing on this opening statement, this chapter aims at providing an understanding of

the creative processes that have gone into addressing these challenges by facilitating teach-
ing and learning through technology-based solutions in higher music education in Kenya
amidst COVID-19 disruptions. COVID-19 pandemic across the globe has made several
sectors to rethink new ways and alternate strategies for engaging. One of these is that as
educators, we probably take much for granted, assuming that the status quo will be main-
tained to sustain our notions and good practices of music teaching and instruction.
In Kenya, the pandemic led to the indefinite closure of all learning institutions and six
months down the line (September 2020), there was still no clear indicators of resumption
of learning. It has however been noted that private schools – elementary and high schools –
and private universities embarked immediately on remote teaching through online means.
This rapid adoption of technology in terms of equipment and platforms for delivery of
content was visibly absent in public institutions, a revelation of the difference in prepar-
edness or boldness of the two categories of institutions to take risks and/or think outside
the box. The mandate of higher education in Kenya is threefold: teaching and learning,
research and publication and community engagement. These require a stable environment
to thrive. Often, planners do not plan for disruptions, but these do occur. This chapter
interrogates the steps taken by selected secondary schools and universities to sustain music
teaching and learning through the use of technology in times of crisis that lead to disrup-
tions, paying particular attention to the challenges of COVID-19 – thereby articulating the
creative processes that have gone into facilitating teaching and learning. “Where does that
go?” speaks to collaboration among learners and between learners and teachers in finding

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-13
118  Malachi Apudo-Achola
technology-based solutions to knowledge and skills transfer in music education, highlight-
ing the experience of selected institutions. This chapter presents (i) a brief historical over-
view of the conduct of formal music education at secondary and postsecondary levels; (ii)
a description of the general Kenyan music education landscape – its resources, spaces and
activities – through a brief comparison of private and public institutions; (iii) an assessment
of the nature of disruption caused by COVID-19 in terms of access, teachers’ preparedness,
activities and resources for music education; (iv) exploration of the learners’ and teachers’
response, with specific attention to elements of creativity and the use of technology, in
selected institutions, and the derivable pedagogy from these interactions and interventions.
(v) Finally, it provides pointers towards ways of sustaining music education despite disrup-
tions of certain types and magnitude.

Overview of the Formal Music Education in Kenya

Music education provision in Kenya dates back to 1963 when the country gained independ-
ence from the British and took over the running of the country. Three waves of education
policy reforms have been implemented since Kenya’s independence that presents a paradigm
shift and change of strategy to address challenges in the education sector. To address the
high unemployment rates and lack of vocational skills in the country that resulted from the
7-4-2-3 system of education during this period, various presidential working parties (PWP)
were commissioned to examine curriculum reform generally (The Republic of Kenya,
1983). The commissions submitted recommendations to change the 7-4-2-3 education sys-
tem to the present 8-4-4 system of education, which is similar to the American system of
education. The 8-4-4 system was launched in January 1985 and was designed to provide
eight years of primary education, four years of secondary and a four-year bachelor’s degree
programme. The 8-4-4 saw the introduction of professional skills subjects such as music,
arts and crafts, business studies, home science and woodwork, and music was an examina-
ble subject in the education system curriculum from primary schools up to the university
level. At higher education level, there was music teacher training programme at Kenyatta
College, presently Kenyatta University. Apudo-Achola (2007), however, notes that, before,
primary teachers were promoted to teach music in secondary schools by the government.
But such policies by the government created challenges in music education provision that
continue to be experienced today (Akuno, 2009). At that time the majority of secondary
music teachers remained incompetent and therefore faced challenges in handling second-
ary schools’ music curriculum. This resulted in a vicious cycle within the music education
provision in the country from secondary schools to the university level that is felt to date.
This historical review helps to understand the background to music education landscape in
Kenya.

General Music Education Landscape in Kenya

Music education in Kenya has been defined and conceptualized in various ways and its
functions articulated by many authors. However, some definitions by experts and research-
ers in the field are helpful. For instance, Akuno (2001) defines it as “Education in music
will equip the ‘individual’ with the knowledge and skills that will enable one to handle the
feelings that characterize human existence” (p.25). She further argues that ‘education in
music’ or ‘music education’ for individuals is a lifelong process that will involve the teach-
ing or training of mind and character. However, as seen from a different perspective, Elliot
(1995) defines the meaning of music education in four ways:
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  119
• Education in music which involves teaching and learning music-making and listening;
• Education about music which involves teaching and learning formal knowledge about
music- making, listening, music history and music theory;
• Education for music which may be taken in two ways, either as teaching and learning as
preparation for beginning to study music or in preparation for a career as a performer,
composer, historian, critic, researcher or teacher, and
• Education by means of music overlaps with the first three.

These definitions of music education highlight many important areas and ways in which
music permeates our everyday life, especially in a learning environment.
Despite the provision put in place in schools and colleges in Kenya, music continues to
face the threat of removal from the curriculum (e.g. Akuno, 2015; Apudo-Achola, 2007;
Wanyama, 2014). For example, a national curriculum review, Koech report led to the re-
moval of music from the primary and secondary school syllabi in 2001. After much lobby-
ing and complaints from music educators and music graduates, it was restored in primary
schools as part of a non-examinable subject entitled “creative arts” and as an elective subject
at the secondary level under the revised 8-4-4 music education curriculum (Akuno, 2009).
This position has also been maintained by another scholar, Wanyama (2014, p.3), who states
that:

At the secondary level, music was made an elective and examinable subject. This move
has led to a difficult situation, where relatively few teachers and students have an in-
terest in the subject at primary level. Consequently, a negligible number of students at
secondary schools has background knowledge and or interested in the subject, and their
development suffers this vicious cycle replicates itself up to the university level

Drawing on Wanyama’s statement, the ‘vicious cycle’ affects the growth and development
of music programmes at the university level to-date. For instance, Mindoti (2010) asserts
that “at one of the university in Kenya, the Music department has been merged with de-
partment Drama and Theatre Studies due to the low enrolment of music students”. As a
consequence of the low enrolment figures, staff recruitment also suffers, and the provision
of teaching resources is no longer a priority for the university administration. Wanyama
(2014) concludes that the development of music education since the inception of the 8-4-4
system has been very negative. Music therefore remains a subject under a threat. Hence we
must rethink ways of revamping music programmes at the higher education level if our mu-
sic graduates are to become relevant to the demands of the music profession and to compete
in globally job market.
Several research studies have further reported a number of issues affecting music edu-
cation in Kenya. Some of the widely mentioned challenges include ‘inadequate learning
resources’ (Digolo, 1997), ‘insufficient administrative support for music departments’, ‘in-
competent music teachers’ (Mwangi, 2002), ‘lack of government policy development in
music education’ and ‘a lack of ICT policy’ (Apudo-Achola & Akuno, 2013). However,
there is little literature that addresses how to transform students’ music learning by explor-
ing the potential of technology-based learning (online learning) with regard to HE music
programmes in Kenya. Akuno (2012) and Wanjala (2004) further point out that the strug-
gles facing music education are the ‘didactic’ teaching and learning nature of the 8-4-4
education system (Akuno, 2015). Akuno further argues that the 8-44 system of education is
examination-oriented and non-examinable subjects such as music are in practice not being
taught at the primary school level.
120  Malachi Apudo-Achola
Status of Technology for Online Learning Strategies in Higher Music
Education amidst COVID-19 Disruption

Comparison of Private and Public Institutions in Terms of Resources, Spaces and

Activities
In Kenya, the pandemic led to the indefinite closure of all learning institutions and six
months down the line (September 2020), there were still no clear indicators of resumption
of learning. It was, however, noted that private schools – elementary and high schools –
and private universities embarked immediately on remote teaching through online means.
This rapid adoption of technology in terms of equipment and platforms for delivery of
content was visibly absent in public institutions, a revelation of the difference in prepared-
ness or boldness of the two categories of institutions to take risks and/or think outside the
box. This research study demonstrates the potential of technology for remote teaching and
learning strategies to enhance learning opportunities for music education in Kenya amidst
COVID-19 pandemic disruption through case studies of four universities in Kenya, namely
Department of Music and Theatre Studies, Maseno University; Department of Music and
Performing Arts, Kabarak University; Department of Music and Dance, Kenyatta Univer-
sity; and Technical University-Kenya, where online learning is already in place. Among the
two universities, cases are explored for the possibilities of expansion of music education. For
example, at Maseno University, there is a creation of Management Learning System (MLS)
in the university’s e-Campus, while at Kenyatta University, the institution has adopted Vir-
tual Learning Environments (VLEs) within its e-Campus, the African Virtual University
(AVU).The section further highlights some of the key challenges that already impede the
effective adoption of online learning in music education in Kenya (Digolo, Andang’o &
Katuli, 2011).
The university music education curriculum for teaching and learning involves training
and pedagogy in music. It comprises both the theory and practice of music, and how these
two aspects interact to enhance the practice of music as a discipline. Although the theo-
retical aspect comprises a smaller proportion of the discipline, the successful interaction
between theory and practice is vital to the understanding of music, and, arguably, results
in better performance of the art of music (Digolo, Andang’o & Katuli, 2011). Both theo-
retical and practical facets are therefore important and complementary to music education
during continued music learning via e-leaning strategies. The onset of COVID-19 has
resulted into disruption of learning in most high institutions. Assessment of the nature of
this disruption in terms of access, teachers’ preparedness, activities and resources for music
education is imperative as well as the exploration of the learners’ and teachers’ responses,
with specific attention to elements of creativity and the use of technology, in selected insti-
tutions, and the derivable pedagogy from these interactions and interventions. It is increas-
ingly evident that there is a need for extension of online music teaching and learning to
the many music students who are sent home due to the university closures as a result of the
COVID-19 pandemic surge. Online learning (distance learning/open learning) has become
the technology-based solutions to this challenge. This paradigm shift compels the institu-
tional management (service providers) to explore possibilities of conducting music instruc-
tion through the technology and the internet as a way of ensuring undisrupted classes.
The key components of online learning strategies have been identified as content, tech-
nologies and services:

i Content: Online course is generally designed to guide students through information

or help them perform in specific tasks. Two distinct types of e-content have been
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  121
identified, namely information-based and performance-based content. The former
communicates information to the student, while the latter involves the building of a
procedural skill in which the student is expected to increase proficiency. Both types of
content are applicable to music education. The theory of music is information-based
and includes such aspects as history of music, ethnomusicology, the psychology of
music and sociology of music, among many others. The application of e-learning to
­information-based content would greatly enhance instruction in this area, and provide
a forum for students to interact widely with their peers and lecturers. The practical
aspect of music forms the core aspect of the discipline, since music is essentially a
performing art. The application of e-learning to this aspect of music is hence very
important, yet is also the more challenging of the two types of content. It is for this
reason that in both Maseno and Kenyatta Universities, music education has as yet not
been included in the list of disciplines catered for in their e-learning programmes in
the university e-Campus. The chapter further presents an exploration of the application
of e-learning in disseminating performance-based information in music education. It
includes some practical demonstrations by both the two universities’ Departments of
Music on how e-learning can be applied to performance-based instruction.
ii Technologies: Developments in internet and multimedia technologies are the two key
enablers of e-learning. According to Rosenberg (2000), successful e-learning depends
on building a strategy that optimizes the technology within an organizational cul-
ture that is ready and willing to use it. Various technologies, which are constantly
improving, have been developed to facilitate e-learning. Technologies that have been
selected for discussion in this chapter include virtual classrooms, blogs and wiki. The
increasingly popular trend in e-learning, particularly in higher education, at Maseno
University there is a creation of Management Learning System (MLS) at the Universi-
ty’s e-Campus while at Kenyatta University have adopt Virtual Learning Environments
(VLEs) at the African Virtual University (AVU) to create a Managed Learning Envi-
ronment in which all aspects of a course are handled through a consistent user interface
standard throughout the institution. Virtual education refers to the instruction in a
learning environment where teachers and students are separated by time or space, or
both, and the teacher provides course content through course management applica-
tions, the internet, multimedia resources and videoconferencing, among other tech-
nologies. A virtual classroom is therefore a learning environment created in the virtual
space. It improves access to advanced educational experiences by allowing learners and
lecturers to participate in remote learning communities using personal computers. The
quality and effectiveness of education is the process improved through the support of a
collaborative learning process. The authors demonstrate the possibilities of expanding
access to music education by the use of pre-recorded lessons in practical, which can be
imported to remote areas for use by learners. A blog, which is a contraction of the term
“web log”, is a website, normally maintained by an individual, with regular entries of
commentary, descriptions of events, or other materials such as graphics or video. Many
blogs contain commentary or news on a particular subject. Others function as more
personal online diaries. This chapter explores the use of the “blog concept” in music
education, particularly as a means of interaction between learners and lecturers. Such
uses are demonstrated within the presentation. A wiki is a page or collection of web
pages designed to enable anyone who accesses it to contribute or modify content using
a simplified mark-up language. The collaborative encyclopaedia, known as Wikipedia,
is one of the best known wikis. Wiki software is a type of collaborative software that
runs a wiki system. It allows web pages to be created and edited using a common web
browser (Digolo, Andang’o & Katuli, 2011)
122  Malachi Apudo-Achola
iii Services: While it has been noted that technology will not be able to totally replace
great teachers (Rosenberg, 2000), e-learning is an important development in education
today. In the post COVID-19 era, a combination of traditional, face-to-face instruc-
tion with e-learning has resulted in a concept known as blended learning, which is now
widely used. We have further explored the use of blended learning in music education
for the purpose of proposing greater collaborative exchanges between music depart-
ments in diverse institutions of higher learning.

Theoretical Framework

Understanding Flexible Learning Theory during Educational Disruption

According to the UNESCO report (2020) on the development of emergency situation
of COVID-19, several countries have adopted various flexible teaching and learning ap-
proaches in their education systems, and online education is one of the main approaches.
Lee and McLoughlin (2010) defined flexible learning as a

set of educational approaches and systems concerned with providing learners with
increased choice, convenience, and personalization to suit their needs. In particular,
flexible learning provides learners with choices about where, when, and how learning
occurs, by using a range of technologies to support the teaching and learning process.

Learner-centred philosophy serves as an underpinning theory for flexibility-dominated

educational practices (Lewis & Spencer, 1986). We re-conceptualize flexible pedagogy
as a learner-centred educational strategy, which provides choices from the main dimen-
sions of study, such as time and location of learning, resources for teaching and learning,
instructional approaches, learning activities, support for teachers and learners. In this
way, teaching and learning can be flexible rather than fixed. This can help promote easy,
engaged and effective learning. In flexible learning environments, barriers that might
prevent students from attending a given educational context (e.g., classrooms) are re-
moved. With the further development of technologies, flexible delivery is considered a
critical component (Lundin, 1999), which usually empowers learners and instructors to
exchange information in a two-way manner. Therefore, providing the possibility of mak-
ing learning choices to learners is crucial. These learning choices can cover class times,
course content, instructional approach, learning resources and location, technology use,
the requirements for entry/completion dates and communication medium (Collis Moo-
nen, &, Vingerhoets, 1997; Goode, Willis, Wolf, & Harris, 2007). With the development
of information and communication technologies, new learning modes have appeared that
can open more opportunities for flexible learning such as e-learning. E-learning aims to
make learners more self-determined and independent, while teachers became more as
learning facilitators (Wiki, 2019).This theoretical review helped in formulating pedapagi-
cial?typo?framework for smart online learning with technology amidst disruption in the
post-COVID-19 era.

Conceptual Framework
This research draws its conceptual framework from the Chinese Ministry of Education
(2019). There were, in 2018, about 518,800 schools at all levels, with about 16,728,500 full-
time teachers and 276 million students in China. As a leading experience worldwide, China
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  123
is the first country to provide massive online education to hundreds of millions of students
nationwide during the epidemic prevention and control period.

Core Elements for Supporting Disrupted Classes Learning amidst COVID-19

From the perspective of online education organization on a huge scale by Chinese scholars
(Huang, Liu, Tlili, Yang and Wang et al., 2020), online education should effectively sup-
port “disrupted classes, undisrupted learning” according to the following seven factors: (a)
reliable communication infrastructure, (b) suitable digital learning resources, (c) friendly
learning tools, (d) effective learning methods, (e) instructional organizations, (f ) effective
support services for teachers and learners, and (g) close cooperation between Governments,
Enterprises and Schools (G-E-S cooperation). These seven key factors could be organ-
ized into three types – government-led, school-based, and social-service – as shown in
Figure 11.1. The tangrams in the figure are just the “metaphor” of arrangements of these
core elements. These types will work in different contexts, i.e., based on the priority of
­decision-makers from different perspectives. It should be noted that these seven factors will
be in different combinations and communications, depending on the society and culture.
For instance, in the “school-based type”, as schools are equipped with basic network infra-
structure, the first concern that they will focus on is, therefore, the use of appropriate learn-
ing tools that can be used online or offline to manage or create different learning resources
(Huang, Liu, Tlili, Yang and Wang et al., 2020). These seven factors will be discussed in
detail in each of the next sections.

Figure 11.1  Adapted from the Chinese experience in maintaining undisrupted learning in COVID-19
outbreak (2020).
124  Malachi Apudo-Achola
Methodology
The research applied a qualitative method as Creswell (2012) states that the qualitative re-
search can be taken to refer to research that is based on descriptive data that does not make
use of statistical procedures. The research was conducted during the COVID-19 pandemic
period across four selected institutions of higher learning in Kenya. The research involved a
three-month study. Multi-stage sampling was used to draw 195 respondents obtained using
Yamane sampling formula at a 95% confidence level and a 5% margin of error. Propor-
tionate sampling was used to determine the sample size of teaching staff and music student
respondents, which gave 40 and 155 respondents, respectively. The instruments used were
online questionnaire surveys and online semi-structured interviews via two professional
WhatsApp forum, namely, Music Teachers Forum-Kenya (MTF-K) and Music Educators
Research Group (MERG-K) for university lecturers in Kenya to explore learners’ and
teachers’ responses, with specific attention to elements of, in selected institutions, and the
derivable pedagogy from these interactions and interventions. The research design applied
in this research was a case study. The case study is a variation of an ethnography in that the
researcher provides an in-depth exploration of a bounded system (e.g., an activity, an event,
a process or an individual) based on extensive data collection (Creswell, 2012). Qualitative
data was analysed thematically and any themes, similarities and differences were established
by using software for computer-aided qualitative design, NVivo. Quantitative data was
subjected to descriptive analysis (Table 11.1).

Table 11.1  T
 ypes of technologies used in different universities in Kenya during COVID-19
pandemic

Universities Platforms Communication Tools Students Apps Data Collection

in Kenya for Online/ Used/Music Survey Tools
(Purposively Remote Teaching Software
Selected) and Learning

University W Moodle University Website Android apps Online

Virtual Learning E-mails Moodle app questionnaire
System (VLE) Moodle E-portfolios survey
Google classroom Class WhatsApp group Google Docs Online interview
Blogs Google Docs Software
Vlogs Sibelius
Theta music
Acapella maker
YouTube
XPS
Blogs
University X Zoom Moodle Android apps Online
MLS University Website E-portfolios questionnaire
Microsoft Teams E-mails Software survey
Blogs Phone Calls Aurelia-6 Online interview
Vlogs Class WhatsApp group Finale
Google Docs Acapella maker
YouTube
XPS/PF
www.CPDL.org
Google Docs
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  125

Universities Platforms Communication Tools Students Apps Data Collection

in Kenya for Online/ Used/Music Survey Tools
(Purposively Remote Teaching Software
Selected) and Learning

University Y Moodle University Website Android apps Online

Management Phone Calls Moodle app questionnaire
Learning System WhatsApp E-portfolios survey
(MLS) E-mails Google Docs Online interview
Zoom Class WhatsApp group Software
Blogs Google Docs Aurelia-6
Vlogs NWC
Acapella maker
YouTube
XPS
www.CPDL.org
University Z Zoom University Website Android apps Online
Google classroom E-mails Software questionnaire
Blogs Moodle NWC survey
Vlogs Class WhatsApp group Acapella maker Online interview
Google Docs YouTube
XPS
www.CPDL.org
Google Docs

Discussion of the Results

Findings on Assessment of the Nature of Disruption Due to COVID-19 Pandemic

The study revealed that the majority of public institutions lack technological infrastructure
to cope with the disruption in terms of learning in practical subjects such as music, while
their counterparts in private sectors were well prepared to deal with these challenges such as:

Digital administrative process

Online teaching and learning resources for music education
Technological resources for practical learning in music education
Technological resources for hosting festivals and for adjudication online
Technological resources and environment for conducting industrial attachment and practicum for perform-
ing arts (dance, drama and music) such as recording studios
Smart technological resources for learning assignment and valuation
Smart technological resources for examination process
Technological resources for music performances at the graduation ceremony

Findings on Challenges in Adopting Online Learning Strategies for Music

Education in the Kenyan Situation
While many opportunities for expansion exist, the adaptation and implementation of digital
technologies in music learning in Kenya, as in many other sub-Saharan African countries,
faces certain challenges that may have a remarkable impact on its processes. With regard to
the integration of digital technologies in higher music education, the following are some
of the challenges that have been noted as reported by the lecturers who were interviewed:
126  Malachi Apudo-Achola
  i Technological shyness: Key finding reported reluctance to move away from fixed tra-
ditional approaches in music teaching and learning used over the years. Resistance to
change causes people to shy away from using digital technologies.
  ii Major findings revealed that universities in Kenya only employ lecturers with master’s
degree certificates or technicians with at least a degree or diploma, hence locking out
skilled personnel in the music industry who are capable of facilitating learning with
state-of-the-art digital technologies. This has led to the apparent “lack of digital tech-
nology experts and skilled manpower in the country higher institution of learning”;
however, owing to limited resources, Kenya neither has the local capacity to develop
the necessary human resources in this field nor the means to attract highly skilled and
expensive experts from abroad. Skilled manpower for the development of digital music
technologies for music education is very crucial.
iii Limited internet connectivity: internet connectivity, though vigorously pursued in
Kenya, is still limited. Findings revealed that in some institutions of higher learning
where there is internet connectivity, it is seen to be limited only to the school/col-
lege library and the information and communication technology (ICT) centres, not to
staff offices and students’ residential halls. Also, the current speed of connection may
be inadequate for internet browsing. This makes its development in music education
ineffective.
iv Poor infrastructure: Kenya is lacking adequate infrastructural facilities for the full scale
development of such strategies as e-learning facilities, apart from high cost of using and
maintaining technology. Internet access is still concentrated mostly in urban centres
and a few institutions of higher learning.
  v Findings revealed non-affordability of computer and internet connectivity: Some mu-
sic lecturers in tertiary institutions or universities where music is studied cannot afford
computer systems and/or internet connectivity that would enable them to enhance
good quality music education through digital technologies.
vi Lecturers’ attitude: Another problem associated with the effective use of digital tech-
nologies in music education may be connected to the non-familiarity of this informa-
tion and communication technology (ICT) by most lecturers. In other words, some
music lecturers are hesitant and have developed a cold attitude to browsing or getting
useful information from the internet but they rather stick to the old technology means
such as radio, television and mobile phones. What Prensky (2001) calls ‘digital immi-
grants’ versus ‘digital natives’. He calls the older generation ‘digital immigrants’ who
are shy to use technology and today’s students the “Net Generation”. He states that
these students are all “native speakers” of the language of “digital” by spending hours
per day on computers, internet, video games, iPhones, iPads and television and brands
them as “Digital Natives”.
vii Time is also an essential factor in developing e-content. In contrast to traditional lesson
preparation, the amount of time required to develop and implement e-content may at
times be prohibitive to its utilization. Since e-content is expected to be handled within
the same time frame as conventional face-to-face instruction, there is a need for careful
time management if one is to cover the required level of course content.
viii Unreliable power supply: Electric power supply is unstable and thus poses challenge to
the use of new technology in music education.

In summary, the essence of digital technologies and ICT in music education in our learning
institutions in both schools and universities cannot be overlooked. The integration of digital
technologies into music curriculum will make students and lecturers to have equal access to
richer learning materials. It will further help them to control their learning, environment,
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  127
improved literacy level, language and communication skills. It is therefore important, in
this regard, to continue to emphasize on the importance of lecturers’ development in our
educational system in order to help lecturers acquire knowledge and skill. Thus, perspectives
that will improve instructional effectiveness and increase productivity in music education
through the use of online digital music technologies have the potential of making music stu-
dents in Kenya to share their knowledge with peers in other countries, get access to outside
the country and collaborate with other students anywhere in the world on their projects.

Creative Use of Technological Strategies in Responding to

COVID-19 Disruption

Exploring Learners’ and Lecturers’ Responses and the Derivable Pedagogy from
These Interactions and Interventions
Findings from the learners and lecturers indicated that alternative approaches such as online
learning pedagogy can be adopted to maintain undisrupted learning. However, several
challenges have been reported during the application of online learning. For example,
(a)  internet connection can be unreliable if there are thousands of learners learning si-
multaneously; (b) it is difficult for some instructors to find online resources that are most
suitable for their teaching contexts because thousands of resources are published online;
(c) ­several instructors and learners do not have the appropriate digital skills to teach and
learn online. This can make the online teaching/learning experience inconvenient for
them; (d) ­several learners lack crucial learning competencies, such as adaptation, independ-
ent study, self-­regulation and motivation, which are key factors for successful online learn-
ing; and (e) ­several instructors simply use direct instructions without considering important
features of online learning, such as interactivity, social presence and cognitive presence,
resulting in motivating learning experiences.
According to Zayapragassarazan and Kumar (2020), the COVID-19 pandemic outbreak
across the globe has forced educational institutions including music institutions to suspend
learning in order to curb the spread of the virus. This has forced the teaching community to
rethink of new avenues and alternate strategies for engaging our students. Many institutes
of higher education have shifted to online mode to ensure continuity of teaching-learning
and assessment processes. It is time for us to think of ‘flexible learning’, a learner-centred
approach that offers rich learning choices to the students. In the online mode of flexible
learning, students are provided with a variety of choices for their learning and it allows
them to take more responsibility for their own learning. Since many of the medical school
teachers are new to the online mode of teaching, their apprehension towards active online
engagement of their students is inevitable.

Prospective Ways of Sustaining Music Education despite Disruptions

Opportunities of Delivery through Online Teaching and Learning

E-learning creates various opportunities that could enhance the blending of computer-
based strategies with classroom situations as well as with modes of delivery that could take
teaching and learning services out of the campus walls. With reference to music education,
existing opportunities for various modes of delivery include blended learning, distance/
open learning, virtual learning and collaborative music activities.
Some of these strategies for increasing and ensuring higher levels of student engagement
in online teaching are suggested by Zayapragassarazan and Kumar (2020) in his recent
128  Malachi Apudo-Achola
research “COVID-19: Strategies for Online Engagement of Remote Learners”. It is worth
noting that these strategies should be applied to meet the learners’ needs according to how
high-tech or low-tech ICT infrastructure of the institution or country is.

Smart Teaching Using Smart Tools

i Online lecture sessions using e-learning platform software like ‘Moodle’, ‘Google class-
room’, ‘Microsoft TEAMS’ and ‘Zoom’ can be made more interactive by dividing the
whole batch into sub-groups with limited number of students. This will help teachers
to monitor their students’ participation and can actively involve them by questioning
and soliciting questions.
ii Software like ‘Voxvote’ can be used for conducting online quizzes and opinion polls on
a daily basis.
iii Online multiple choice questions (MCQ) and other objective type tests may be admin-
istered daily using software like ‘Testmoz’.
iv Since unsupervised online exams have their own demerits, the validity and reliability
of such unsupervised online exams can be improved by conducting a greater number of
exams with different possible questions with varying time duration on the same topic
instead of conducting one single exam for evaluation.
v Teachers can assign topics for assignment to students and can ask them to submit before
a deadline. Students can submit written assignments using email or other e-platform
like ‘Canvas’ and Google Classroom. Students can either forward their scanned copy of
the written assignment or directly post the electronically typed one.
v i Teachers can use ‘Google Docs’ for engaging their students in collaborative writing
where a group of students can contribute for a single topic both synchronously and
asynchronously. The faculty moderator can monitor four students’ participation and
will also be able to identify and evaluate individual student contributions.
vii Reading exercises – Teachers can post an article or suggest a book chapter and ask their
students to compile and post the key points. A worksheet based on the contents of the
topic may be prepared and posted as a learning task.
viii Listening exercises – Teachers can identify the best ‘Podcasts’ for their subject and
recommend the same to the learners. Podcasts are digital audio files made available on
the internet for downloading to a computer or a mobile device. Students can listen to
the podcasts and finally answer a self-assessment questionnaire or rubric. Podcasts of
‘Medical Educator’ are quite popular among medical students.
ix Watch and learn exercises – Teachers can post a video lecture of a subject topic from
‘YouTube’ or from free sites like ‘OnlineMedEd’ and ‘Medical Institution’ and ask their
students to give their comments with regard to their understanding about the topic and
post their queries in the online platform.
x Teachers can announce a subject topic and ask their students to browse through the
‘YouTube’ or other similar sites to identify the best educational videos available on the
announced topic. After viewing the educational video, students provide their com-
ments for calling the identified videos as the best educational video for the chosen
content.
x i Faculty can present a virtual clinical case and ask students to take part in the online
discussion (synchronously or asynchronously).
xii Virtual learning environments – Teachers can identify authenticated free virtual labs/
virtual learning environments and direct their students to visit those sites and share
their learning experience in the form of reflective writing.
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  129
xiii Use of authentic clinical cases – Teachers may post a mini clinical case and provide ap-
propriate directions to elicit proper responses/views from their learners to link theory
to practice. Here students will be directed to use the application of knowledge to the
cases. This will also foster rational and creative thinking among students. This can be
done via either Google Groups or Google Classroom.
xiv Teachers can create video lectures or PowerPoint presentations with voice over and
slide notes and circulate them to their students followed by a self-administered online
objective type test.
xv Publishers like ‘Elsevier’ provide free online teaching learning resources for the health
professionals. Teachers can identify such sites and can send the links of these free sites to
their students as a learning resource and ask them to generate evidence for having used
these sites for their learning.

Students as Creators of Learning Resources

i Students may be asked to create their own educational videos or PowerPoint presenta-
tions with voice over and slide notes for a selected topic or for a topic of their own inter-
est which may then be circulated among their peers and faculty for their understanding
and comments.
ii Students as teachers – Identify interested students who are motivated to act as teach-
ers. Ask them to identify six topics they are more familiar with and entrust them with
responsibility of online teaching of a selected topic to a group of students identified
for this purpose. Here students will have the freedom to design and execute their own
teaching-learning plan.
iii Students could also be directed to prepare MCQs, or clinical vignettes/case scenarios
for a chosen subject content. Other students can involve themselves in vetting these
resources; after that, they may be forwarded to their faculty for their comments and for
future use. This will allow students to become familiar with their subject contents and
foster critical thinking.
iv Medical humanities – Students may be encouraged to write stories and poems on med-
icine, narratives, illustrate medical concepts, create cartoons for medical sciences, create
crossword puzzles in medical sciences, create short videos/movies, design innovative
approaches for information, education and communication (IEC) in public health, etc.
v Students could be encouraged to create a variety of learning resources for the topics of
their interest and these can be stored in a repository for anytime retrieval.
vi E-portfolios – Guidelines for collecting evidence for students’ learning in the form of
self-assessment reports, rubrics, teacher comments, student contribution and participa-
tion in online activities may be issued in advance to the students. Students after collecting
or documenting their learning evidence will reflect on selected documented learning
evidence and forward it to the concerned faculty for appraisal. Showcasing of learning
evidence may be done by scanning the manual portfolio and forwarding it to the con-
cerned faculty or by using free e-portfolio platforms like ‘Mahara’ and ‘FolioSpaces’.

Students’ E-Learning Circles

E-learning circles are teams of remote learners who are highly interactive and participatory
in nature and use online media to acquire a deeper understanding of areas of shared interest.
Steps for organizing ‘students’ e-learning circle’ (Zayapragassarazan & Kumar, 2020) are
given as follows:
130  Malachi Apudo-Achola
i Divide the whole batch into a possible number of small sub-groups.
Designate a faculty moderator for each sub-group.
ii
iii
Allocate subject topic for each sub-group.
iv
Identify student coordinator for each sub-group who will be responsible for coordi-
nating with other members of their group in designing the online session, conducting
the session and reporting on the learning outcomes. In short, the sub-group will be
responsible for making their own online learning plan, executing their learning plan
and finally showing evidence for their learning.
v The faculty will observe the whole session by taking part as one of the participants and
give his/her critical comments at the end of the session.

Online Discussion Forums

Using Google ‘Groups or Google Classroom’ teachers can initiate online discussion on a chosen
topic. This can be done by dividing the whole batch into sub-groups. Teachers can mod-
erate by giving constructive feedback and finally help the participants to summarize the
whole discussion with important learning points. The summarization by participants can
also be done on a rotation basis, giving opportunity to all individual participants (Zayapra-
gassarazan & Kumar, 2020).

Conclusion
Disruptions of certain types and magnitude in any nation will always leave its impact on
education in some way or another. Students’ right to education is threatened at times of
crisis as a consequence of natural disasters like post-election violence, disease outbreak,
political unrest, earthquakes, tsunamis, cyclones and war. Drawing on Chinese best prac-
tices to maintain undisrupted learning during COVID-19 (2020), the following seven core
elements of effective online education in emergencies experiences are identified to facilitate
flexible online learning (Huang, Liu, Tlili, Yang, Wang, et al., 2020):

1 ensuring reliable network infrastructure, which can handle millions of users simulta-
neously, is crucial to support smooth online learning experience without interruption
when:
a providing synchronous online teaching using video conferencing;
b using (watching, downloading, uploading) interactive learning resources (videos,
games, etc.); and
c collaborating with peers via social platforms.
2 Using friendly learning tools is beneficial to learners in finding and processing infor-
mation, constructing knowledge, collaborating with peers, expressing understanding,
and evaluating learning effects in concrete ways. It is also vital that instructors avoid
overloading learners and parents by asking them to use too many applications or plat-
forms. In this context, schools and colleges should coordinate between all the instruc-
tors to use consistent learning tools or platforms.
3 Providing interactive suitable digital learning resources such as online video m ­ icro-
courses, e-books, simulations, animations, quizzes and games. The criteria for select-
ing digital learning resources should include licensing, accuracy, interactivity, ease of
adaptability, cultural relevance and sensitivity, and also the suitability of content, diffi-
culty, structure, media and organization.
 Responding to Disruption in Higher Education  131
4 Guiding learners to apply effective learning methods individually or in groups. Specif-
ically, the online instructional practice should involve using online communities, via
social networks, to ensure regular human interactions and to address potential online
challenges, such as learners’ perceived loneliness or helplessness.
5 Promoting effective methods to organize instruction by adopting a range of teaching
strategies, such as case studies, open debate and discussions, learners-led discovery and
experiential learning.
6 Providing instant support services for teachers and learners on learning about urgent school
and governmental policies, using effective learning technologies, tools and resources and
collaborating between the government, schools, enterprises, families, society, etc.
7 Empowering the partnership between governments, enterprises and schools. Specifi-
cally, the governments should also coordinate enterprises, schools, research institutes
and families to build smooth communication platforms to exchange urgent notices and
to keep everyone safe.

From this Chinese experience, some limitations are also noted that should be considered in
the future. For instance, to provide accessible learning experiences, all universities should
rely on tele-courses to provide learning experiences for those in remote areas without
internet or without cable TV. Additionally, more affordable devices should be developed
to provide offline digital learning resources for learners, especially in those remote areas.
Moreover, researchers and practitioners should consider different accessibility guidelines
(e.g., WCAG 2.0) while developing their digital learning resources platforms, tools and
devices. This helps provide an effective approach to accessibility, functional diversity and
e-inclusion in educational settings. Finally, more inclusive authoring tools (that work with
different functional diversities) should be developed so that educators can use them to create
accessible digital learning resources.
Higher education is widely considered to be the realm of high-order pedagogical practices,
characterized by the establishment of such disciplines as music education technology (MET)
as a professional field of study in its own right. Pedagogical practitioners are encouraged to
continuously evaluate the impact of their own pedagogical approaches and choices on their
learners at this time of global pandemic crisis. Techniques used by reflexive practitioners
and by scholars focusing upon the pragmatics of teaching, such as evaluative methodologies,
conceptual tool kits and model teaching approaches, often resemble each other. In adopt-
ing the term ‘digi-pedagogical frameworks’ developed by Apudo-Achola (2018) in his recent
PhD research “The development of a pedagogic framework to support learning with digital
­technology – mediated environment in higher music education programmes in Kenya”, we
initiate a dialogue between theory and practice, as well as between learning and teaching,
which draws consciously on these traditions. Moving forward towards the achievement of the
21st century learning skills within the higher music education institutions, it is likely that dig-
ital technology will play an even larger role in lecturers’ classrooms activities and pedagogy.
Key recommendation of this research is that music educators, practitioners and students em-
brace these new tools with a mix of enthusiasm, curiosity and critique. The research suggests
that we must be open to the new possibilities and sensibilities that digital technology presents
and its ability to enhance and expand our creative potential. At the same time, we must be
critical as to whether these digital technologies are genuinely strengthening our creative ca-
pacities in music-making, or whether it is merely a seductive new toy. If we are to approach
the integration of digital technologies for online music learning during the COVID-19 times
and in the post-COVID-19 era, I am confident that it will have a positive and long-lasting
effect on the current generation of creative thinkers and performing arts graduates.
132  Malachi Apudo-Achola
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Part 3

New Possibilities for New

Creativities
Inspiring/Catalyzing Curriculum Change

In music education practice, knowledge on how creativities impact learning and teaching is
of paramount importance. Our research and scholarly efforts shape the curriculum. There-
fore, this section of the book is the most diverse and substantial in scope and content.
Apudo-Achola and Akuno give us a unique and excellent window into the disruption of
norms and curriculum change in higher music education in Kenya.
Lewis helps us affirm hip-hop music as a valuable and indispensable component of cul-
turally responsive pedagogy in music education classrooms.
Bell, Cacho, and Okasha recount their experiences sparking and sustaining the creative
process in songwriting.
McArton discusses extramusical creativities and the role of the music teacher in assisting
students meet their full potential.
Wallersdedt and Rudbäck explore scaffolding creative processes in music and their ped-
agogical roots.
Ryals collects and interprets music educator’s perspectives on songwriting.
Clauhs and Dozorentz consider what DAW environments mean for music education
practice.
Holmes considers the effect of group assignment on a GarageBand activity.
Burnard, Dale, Glenister, Reiss, Travi, Gann, and Greasley provide insights into the role
and place of hip-hop music in music education.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-14
134  New Possibilities for New Creativities
12 Beyond the Surface of Culturally
Responsive Pedagogies
Hip-Hop, Creativity, and Affirming the
Voices of Students of Color
Judy Lewis

Introduction
I remember sitting in my office the day that Kendrick Lamar was awarded the Pulitzer Prize
for Music in 2018. I was excited. Recognition of Hip-Hop as a powerful artistic expression
was long overdue, to my mind. Yet, as the day went on, some of the online response I read
(including from musicians, music educators, and the media) expressed disbelief and even
shock at this honor being given to a word-based artist in a genre like Hip-Hop rather than
a composer from the field of contemporary classical music. I shared an office at that time
with my dear friend and colleague, Peter Webster. I recall turning to him and blurting out:
“We ignore this at our own peril. It’s absurd that Hip-Hop is recognized by the Pulitzer and
we’re still fighting about it in music education!” Much of my own frustration at that moment
was born out of my work with urban minority children of color and my recognition of
their intimate relationship with the Hip-Hop music that they listen to and love, the unique
sociocultural contexts that the music speaks to, and the construction of concepts of self and
world made possible through engagements with that music. Put differently, I witnessed
firsthand the ways in which Hip-Hop in the music classroom can serve to affirm the voices
of our most marginalized students of color.
In this chapter, I explore the creativity of Hip-Hop and its affirmation through the lens
of culturally responsive pedagogy. To do this, I share some of my experiences and critical
events from my work with urban elementary students of color. I will argue for a sociocul-
tural understanding of Hip-Hop creativity – beyond musical elements and constructs. Key
to this understanding is the role that our students of color can play in conceptualizations of
culturally responsive pedagogies in our shared spaces. Ultimately, I propose that affirming
the musical voices of our students of color through Hip-Hop powerfully impacts their gen-
erative musical creativity.

Conceptual Framing

What Are Hip-Hop Creativities?

The scope of Hip-Hop creativities is vast and includes such multifaceted expressions as
emceeing (rap), DJing, breakdancing, beatboxing, street fashion, and graffiti art and the
list continues to grow as Hip-Hop culture grows, transforms, and develops as all cultures
do (Morrell, 2008). For the purposes of this chapter, I focus on Hip-Hop creativities as
expressed in Rap (emceeing) and rap composition. The reader might therefore expect the
discussion to focus on, for example, the unique layering of instrumental loops in a Hip-Hop
beat or the linguistic intricacies of rap lyrics such as rhyme, rhythm, and flow. And while
these are certainly important elements of rapping – the “building blocks,” if you will – they

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-15
136  Judy Lewis
tell only a partial story; one that is perhaps the easiest for white music educators wishing to
understand and implement “creating-through-Hip-Hop.” After all, what music educator
doesn’t understand instrumentation, texture, rhythm, and lyrics?
However, I wish to explore what I consider the “essential”1 creativities manifest in Hip-
Hop. To do that, we must begin with the roots of Hip-Hop’s inception circa 1970 in the
United States.
Born out of social, political, and economic oppression, in an age of mass incarceration,
Hip-Hop quickly became the soundtrack of Black America – its reality, struggles, and
resistance (Bennett, 2008; Shabazz, 2021). As Shabazz (2021) writes, Hip-Hop as a Black
cultural expression was “bound up with geographic containment, restrictions on mobility,
and racial segregation… mid-wifed by some of the most repressive systems of geographic
order.” As such, Hip-Hop exposes a unique dialectic between “creativity and confinement”
(447).
Today, Hip-Hop holds much the same position – a site of struggle and opposition, “a call
to action, and a celebration of urban language and culture” in confrontation with dominant
discourses (Morrell, 2008, 79). Through its adoption globally as a voice of marginalized
populations (particularly working-class, migrant, and indigenous youth), Hip-Hop has be-
come the largest expression of youth culture worldwide (Shabazz, 2021; Warren & Evitt,
2010) used to express dissatisfaction with those persons and groups in positions of power in
disparate countries (Shelby & Darby, 2005).
In addition to this powerful outwardly focused expression of artistic voice, Hip-Hop
serves as a medium through which Black and other oppressed youth attempt to make sense,
to understand the world and their place in it, to tell their own stories and situate themselves
as critical voices on the local and world stage (Lewis, 2016).
It is from this grounded conception of Hip-Hop culture that the essential creativities of
Hip-Hop (and for the purposes of this chapter, Hip-Hop composition in the classroom)
grow. Oral storytelling through rhyme, social commentary, knowledge – keepin’ it real, and
inciting critical thought and dialogue, all come together to create a uniquely transgressive
artform (Emdin, 2016, Shelby & Darby, 2005); a “challenge to norms of language, identity,
and ownership” (Pennycook, 2007) and a powerful vehicle for critical citizenship. As the
reader will see in the story I’m about to tell, these essential creativities fueled the creative
expression of my students, as they used Hip-Hop composition to “travers[e], navigat[e], and
mak[e] sense of [their own] daily struggles” (Warren & Evitt, 2010, 142) as children of color
in contemporary America.

Hip-Hop in Education
The notion of Hip-Hop as a culturally responsive framework for student learning gained
traction over a decade ago, primarily in the fields of language arts and literacy (Hill &
Petchauer, 2013; Kruse, 2016; Morrell & Duncan-Andrade, 2002). Recognizing the over-
whelming preference for, and sociocultural connection to, Hip-Hop among students of
color, scholars in the fields of literacy, media literacy, and even science and social studies ad-
vocate for a robust integration of Hip-Hop pedagogies into school learning (Emdin, 2010,
2016; Love, 2015; Mahiri, 2006; Morrell, 2021).
The discourse of music education lags far behind in its exploration and acceptance of
Hip-Hop as a viable tool for student learning. As Kruse (2016) writes, “Music education
scholarship in the areas of popular and vernacular musicianship has grown in the past dec-
ades; however, music education research concerned specifically with hip-hop has been rel-
atively scarce” (253). A handful of scholars in our field advocate for a serious consideration
of Hip-Hop in music education scholarship and practice. Hess (2018) suggests that “given
 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies  137
the popularity and ubiquity of Hip-Hop it should be seen as essential in music education”
and yet research and practice are still lacking in music education discourse. Tobias (2014)
argues that engagements with Hip-Hop in the classroom can offer youth a forum in which
to wrestle with complex social issues and construct critical and personal “perspectives of
society and their lived experience” (49). Despite these calls to action, Hip-Hop scholarship
and practice in our field is far from a burgeoning enterprise.
Many of the obstructions to Hip-Hop inclusion in music education are the same as in
other fields of education. One issue is the problem of a primarily White demographic in our
music teacher-training programs. Lowenstein (2009) questions whether teacher education
programs can prepare a largely White middle-class pre-service student cohort to become
multicultural learners capable of understanding and addressing issues of diversity. Lensmire
and Snaza (2010) argue that “teacher education is, among other things, a site of hegemonic
struggle among White people” (420). Hip-Hop decenters this traditionally “white” space
(Gosa & Fields, 2012). The abundant assumptions that teachers, and soon-to-be teachers,
bring to the topic of Hip-Hop in K-12 education can hinder a deeper interrogation of what
culturally responsive pedagogies through Hip-Hop might look like in urban minority set-
tings (Gosa & Fields, 2012).
Love (2015) suggests that “many teachers’ reservations are seemingly knotted to their
perceptions of Hip-Hop as Lastly, is the clear low culture composed of deviant, nihilistic
attributes that they believe are harmful to young learners” (108/109). Add to this a professed
concern about issues of content in Hip-Hop songs (Karvelis, 2018; Kruse, 2016; Tobias,
2014) and it is no surprise that many educators consider Hip-Hop “the new ‘problem mu-
sic” (Negut & Sârbescu, 2014, 4). This preoccupation with issues of appropriateness often
stops the conversation before it begins, precluding a deeper discussion of the rich opportu-
nities for learning made possible through Hip-Hop (Campbell & Clements, 2006).
Lastly, is the clear and present danger of essentializing student identities. Gosa and Fields
(2012) caution against the tendency to assume that all students of color find Hip-Hop
personally and socioculturally relevant. Kruse (2016) suggests that “Hip-hop’s relevance
for students should not be assumed and must be continually investigated and evaluated if
hip-hop pedagogies hope to provide meaningful learning experiences for students.” This
issue of essentializing student identities reflects not only a recognition of the multiplicity of
identities that our students of color bring to the classroom but also the plurality of Hip-Hop
cultural expressions with which our students engage.
It is in response to these issues that our discussion of culturally responsive pedagogies and
Hip-Hop creativities comes together.

Culturally Responsive Pedagogy: A Brief Overview

To better understand this complex reality, let us explore the central elements and attributes
of a culturally responsive pedagogy framework. I focus primarily on the extensive work
of Geneva Gay, a preeminent scholar in the field of CRP in the United States. Gay (2002,
2010, 2013) offers the following definition of culturally responsive pedagogy:

Using the cultural knowledge, prior experiences, frames of reference, and performance
styles of ethnically diverse students to make learning encounters more relevant to and
effective for them.
(2010, 31)

Gay (2002) lays out the following five core elements of culturally responsive pedagogy: (1)
developing a cultural diversity knowledge base, (2) designing culturally relevant curriculum,
138  Judy Lewis
(3) demonstrating cultural caring, (4) cross-cultural communication, and (5) cultural con-
gruity in classroom instruction.
Developing a cultural diversity knowledge base refers to the teacher acquiring an understanding
of the cultural characteristics and contributions of a diverse range of demographic popula-
tions. This includes cultural values, modes of social interaction, cultural learning strategies,
and broader historical contributions, to name a few. In other words, it is the teacher “doing
her homework.” Designing culturally relevant curriculum builds on the knowledge acquired
in the first stage. According to Gay, this includes interrogating and challenging formal and
hidden curriculums as well as symbolic curriculum, that is, the artifacts visible to students in
classrooms (posters, book, etc.). Gay also calls for educators to interrogate societal curricu-
lum, that is, media and its role in prescribing normative or stereotypical views of cultural
groups.
Demonstrating cultural caring speaks to the classroom environment and the educator’s caring
enough to set high standards while also building a sense of community based on collab-
oration. Cross-cultural communication reflects the educator’s ability to decipher the students’
cultural codes of communication and cultural protocols of participation. It also charges
teachers to recognize that our diverse students often “know” in different ways than we
“know” and to recognize and affirm this in our work with them.
Lastly, cultural congruity in classroom instruction builds on the understanding of the previ-
ous four elements, asking the teacher to interrogate the how of instruction. Culture-specific
modes of learning such as storytelling dialogue, cooperative learning groups, and even
“moving around” as opposed to “sitting still” are a few of the examples that Gay offers in
regard to this category.
Despite Gay’s comprehensive framework for culturally responsive pedagogy, I suggest
that a critical element is underrepresented. Frameworks put forth by Gay and others focus,
almost exclusively, on the teacher; that is, on her ability to arm herself with vast amounts
of cultural knowledge and then plan and execute instruction based on that wealth of in-
formation. What’s missing in this conversation, to my mind, are the voices of our students
and their own sense of agency in constructing their spaces of learning. It was a recognition
of this lack of voice that propelled me to consider: what might my young students of color
teach me about culturally responsive pedagogies in our shared space – about Hip-Hop in
their lives – if given the chance?

Hip-Hop Creativities in Action

To answer this question, I embarked on a three-year participatory action research study
with a group of students in an elementary school in Harlem, New York. The school is in
an underserved district in New York City with a student demographic approximately 90%
Black and 10% Latino. The students had never had music classes in school.
I met with the same intact class of students, weekly over the course of three school years,
beginning when they were in fourth grade (nine and ten years old) and ending as they fin-
ished sixth grade (11 and 12 years old). I began each year by inviting the children to suggest
the songs that would constitute our “repertoire.” We called this “The Playlist.” My idea was
for them to share the songs that they would like to see represented in our music class and to
see where it would take us. I found the results astounding.
Each child, as their turn came, asked me to share the song’s video and we listened to-
gether. The song’s presenter then facilitated a discussion about their selection, navigating
questions from peers and myself. As we unpacked the songs, children began to make
connections to their lives outside of school – both personal and communal. For example,
upon watching videos by Fetty Wap,2 Beyonce, and Big Sean, the children delved into
 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies  139
popular culture narratives about power and success. Songs by Iggy Azalea, Beyoncé,3 and
Melanie Martinez catalyzed discussions about how women and girls are portrayed in pop-
ular music. We interrogated representations of children in popular media through songs
by Snoop Dog4 and Beyoncé. We explored the theme of Black cultural stereotypes, gen-
erated by songs by the Hip-Hop duo Ayo and Teo5 and the rappers, Future and Lil’ Uzi.6
The extent of each dialogue was determined by the students’ interest and investment in
the themes generated. Some dialogues lasted for 10–15 minutes. Others lasted for several
weeks consecutively.
The children appeared to view Hip-Hop as a vehicle of storytelling and themselves as
the critical interpreters of those stories. They raised questions and debated issues, went
home and continued listening, then came back to class the following week with new ideas.
Listening became a creative act of meaning-making and of “self-expression” (as one of the
children put it). Listening together became a vehicle through which they constructed their
own stories, personal narratives, and understandings of a broader social landscape (Lewis,
2020, 2016).
Throughout each year, in parallel to our ongoing listening dialogues, the students com-
posed original rap songs. Theories of 21st century critical literacy propose that literacy is a
dialectic between critical “consumption and critique” and critical “production,” reflecting
the participatory nature of twenty-first century digital culture (Morrell, Duenas, Garcia, &
Lopez, 2013; Jenkins, 2006). Morrell (2021) suggests that offering opportunities for stu-
dents to produce media in the classroom “allows students to speak their truth as a creative
act of agency and joy, and to possibly inform others” (1). As such, our composition activities
were meant to create an ongoing connection between our listening and the children’s own
potential as critical and creative music producers.
In years one and two, the children had the option to use the beat-making app Keezy
Drummer, found sounds or to compose acapella. The free app Keezy Drummer has a data-
bank of 14 digital sound samples for beat composing, ranging from traditional instruments
like snare and bass drum to more inventive options like “snaps” and even a sound called
“bomb.” Students also had the choice to work in collaborative groups or to work alone. All
except one student chose to collaborate with friends. In preparation for composing, I briefly
showed the students how to access the database of sounds on the app and then set them off
to work on their own.
The atmosphere in the classroom during composition time mirrored Gay’s (2010) notion
of cross-cultural communications; that is, the cultural codes of communication and participation
of this diverse student group were evident everywhere. Some children sat at desks. Others
stretched out on the floor with paper and pencil or appropriated one of the whiteboards
in the room and drew charts detailing the form of their composition. With between seven
and ten groups working in the same space, the room was lively and at times chaotic. The
children didn’t seem to be fazed. In fact, the vibrancy of the space appeared to spur them
on in their creative endeavors.
The students’ approach to composing was non-linear, spontaneous, and based around
trial and error. They would try out a combination of sounds, listen together, and then de-
cide whether or how to adjust. Their aesthetic and musical judgments appeared to be based
almost exclusively on aural perception and a reliance on an aural intuition gleaned from
their extensive familiarity with the genre of Hip-Hop.
As a result, I found myself witnessing their musical “funds of knowledge” in action
(Moll, Soto-Santiago & Schwartz, 2013). They had a vision in their musical minds of what
a good beat sounds like based on their intimate familiarity with Hip-Hop. Yet, each groups’
final composition was original and unique. Some were simple and minimalistic, remi-
niscent of mainstream Hip-Hop beats they had most likely heard in their favorite songs.
140  Judy Lewis
Other groups layered more complex rhythmic patterns into their compositions. One group
created a poly-rhythmic beat so complex that, even after many listenings, I was unable to
accurately transcribe it. Still, when the group eventually performed their rap with this beat,
they did so flawlessly.
I watched as the children used their rap lyrics to further explore themes and topics that
had surfaced during our communal listening and dialogues. For example, racism and dis-
crimination were persistent themes in the songs we listened to and, as such, in the ensuing
dialogues. These themes surfaced again in the children’s compositions. Below is a song
composed by three girls in fourth grade. Through it, they comment on real-life truths and
explore generative themes like police brutality, racism, drugs, and gun violence. The rap
was accompanied by backup Hip-Hop dancers and one boy from the class creating an im-
provised “beat” using his fists on a metal filing cabinet:

“All the Other Kids”

All the other kids with the pumped up kid lookin’ at another kid gettin’ beat up by a
cop.
Police brutality. Police brutality.
All the other kids with the pumped up kid lookin’ at another kid that’s gettin’
shot.
This just ain’t right. This just ain’t right.
All the other kids with the pumped up kid lookin’ at another kid who’s makin’ a sale.
Sellin’ drugs ain’t right. Sellin’ drugs ain’t right.
All the other kids with the pumped up kid lookin’ at another kid gettin’ teased ‘bout
his color.
Racism isn’t right. Racism isn’t right.

Other children used their compositions to talk about distinctly personal issues and what
empowerment might look like to them. In the following collaborative rap, Jayden and
Nathifa (pseudonyms, both nine years old) focus, in a poetically succinct fashion, on pov-
erty and what it’s like to have one’s creative potential overlooked in school…

“Swag”

Jayden:

Yo! Money in my bag and I’m all about that swag.

Tryin’ to make some money while I’m rasin’ my f lag.
I’ve been tryin’ to get candy out a dollar fifteen.

Nathifa:

Two times two is eighty-four.

I’m not that good at math.
But I try my rhymin’ with words.
My rhymes are ‘bout like thunderstorms.
 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies  141
“Call Me Jazz”
This third piece was written and performed acapella by nine-year-old Jayden (pseudonym).
Through his composition, he shows off his superior command of English using cultural
codes of language unique to rap that often goes unacknowledged in normative institutional
practices of literacy:

I go by “Jo-Sef ” but you can call me “Jazz.”

It’s hilarious what these groupers be tryin’ to grab.
I’m the killer rapper…the Milly rocker
With these skills I’m ‘bout to rate the beat
And then throw it after.

I’m not chewin’ on no reefa

Speeding like a cheetah
Try to walk in my shoes
No, you can’t stick your feet in Adidas.

All these mental mind states.

All these instruments
I’m never gentle.
I’ll kill this track like there’s bullets in my pencil.

Fully automatically …rapidly…shouting accurately.

Check how this rapper be naturally. Run my mastery.

Lately I be barkin’ heat,

Hate just ain’t my recipe
I’m makin’ money easily and I’ma perfect treat.

Look just how my word be.

Oh, it just occurred to me
I always split the truth
Although I’m not commitin’ perjury.

Lyrics formed perfectly.

I express soul verbally.
I’m not even a doctor
And I just performed surgery.

It is worth noting that Jayden, who possesses an obvious command of the English language
far beyond his grade level, was failing in English (reading and writing) in his school class.
During these (and other) performances, the space was alive with communal participation.
Kids sat around the room on the floor, on chairs, and on tables in configurations of twos
and threes. They would shout out with excitement when the performer said something they
found particularly witty or impressive and often joined in with spontaneous drumming
rhythms on any surface nearby to propel the rap forward. At the end of each performance
cheers went up from the audience giving props to the performers.
142  Judy Lewis
In year three of the study, the students, now 12 years old, transitioned from elementary
school to middle school. As a result, the intact group of the first two years dispersed to var-
ious middle schools in the area and beyond. The challenge now became where and when to
hold our meetings. The Institute for Urban and Minority Education (IUME) located in Teachers
College, Columbia University offered us a home. Students who wished to continue needed
to have a parent who was willing and able to accompany them to and from the institute
on Saturday mornings over the course of the year. Eight of the former participants – five
girls and three boys – were able to continue. We met bi-weekly for four-hour sessions on
Saturday mornings.
As in prior years, the students supplied the “repertoire” that they wanted to listen to and
explore together. We decided to forgo the idea of a pre-constructed playlist and instead
simply choose two students each week to bring the songs for the next meeting. This meant
that I would be hearing the songs for the first time each week along with the students. I
was delighted with the trust and collegiality we had fostered in our space that allowed this
to happen.
And so, our exploration of Hip-Hop continued. We listened to the song Rolex,7 by the
Hip-Hop duo Ayo and Teo, and the children unpacked topics such as the power of lan-
guage, gender stereotypes, and the way that popular music can impact issues of identity
and societal norms. The song Bad and Bougee,8 by the Migos featuring Lil’ Uzi, catalyzed
a discussion of Black representation in Hip-Hop and notions of empowerment and suc-
cess. After watching Beyonce’s song Freedom,9 we interrogated the long history of Black
oppression.
The students again self-selected into collaborative composition groups, two groups of
girls and one that included all three boys. At this time, I introduced the app GarageBand
and the children quickly become adept at composing using GarageBand loops. The chil-
dren were already familiar with the app Keezy Drummer from previous years but ultimately
GarageBand became the app of choice in their work. The compositions now took on more
individualistic qualities given the variety of genre-based loops available in the app. The
girls appeared to lean more toward R&B-based sounds while the boys tended to use more
recognizable Hip-Hop sounds, reminiscent of their favorite artists.
The composition transcribed below is the final piece that the boy’s group composed that
year. They use their composition to explore issues of identity as children of color and the
role that music plays for them in finding voice. This complex, multi-sectional composi-
tion was performed by syncing three separate iPads and three distinct music-making apps
as their backing tracks. I have noted each section’s compositional and performative style
throughout the lyrics:

“No one Knows”

Acapella/Spoken Word:
You don’t like me but you are made of me. 

Sung w/ guitar riff:

No one knows who I really am.
No one knows who I really am.
That’s ok cause I am unknown, unseen, undetected.
You feel me? 

Hide behind all my prickly thorns to conceal all my feelings.

No one knows. No one knows. No one knows. 
 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies  143
Spoken word w/rubato guitar chords:
There was this girl.
She had no friends.
She had no family.
She had nothing.
She couldn’t do anything…because she was scared to talk.
She wanted everyone to know
How she makes music.
It’s how she talks.
It’s how she talks.
It’s how she talks.
It’s how she talks. 

Rap w/ beat:
I shut my eyes in bed and all I see is nothing.
Just the earth grindin’ down the world.
Not many people see into my heart, into my life.
No one knows my life’s secret

Reprise of guitar riff: 

No one knows who I really am.
No one knows who I really am.
That’s ok cause I am unknown, unseen, undetected.
You feel me?

Acapella/Spoken Word: 
You don’t like me but you are made of me.

Beyond the musical skill of composing on and syncing three different music apps on three
different devices, and the mastery of multiple distinct performative styles – spoken word,
singing, and rapping – I found the central theme of this song – the vulnerable exploration
of personal identity, isolation, and the role of music as a vehicle for personal agency – utterly
wonderful and surprising. Upon hearing it, the piece touched me as a musician and music
educator in a way that few great masterpieces of music have ever done.

Hip-Hop, Creativity, and the Musical Voices of our Students of Color

The children in this study shared a wealth of songs and produced dozens of original rap
compositions over the course of three years. I watched as their out-of-school codes of speech
and generative themes took center stage in their creative work. “Acceptable” codes of the
institution (like Standard American English – SAE) were replaced with codes that reflected
their real-life outside of school. They developed a “sense of authorial self and positioned
[themselves] as experts and powerful storytellers” (Kinney, 2012, 397). Composing became
a site of resistance and empowerment as they used their raps to explore values, beliefs, and
aspirations and to wrestle with issues of identity through the musical language that spoke
their creative truth.
In my teaching experience I have found that writing a song is fun for students. It can
also be an effective, hands-on way for students to learn about and work with musical ele-
ments in a creative fashion. Yet, the children I worked with in this study used composing
in a qualitatively different fashion than I had expected or that I see represented in music
144  Judy Lewis
education discourse, for the most part. They instinctively created an intimate connection
between critical and creative listening and the act of composing. Together, listening and
composing formed an extended creative process of meaning-making; an opportunity to
critically explore and navigate themes in popular culture and socioculturally relevant issues;
to negotiate institutional and societal codes of power and to construct new ones for our
shared space; to interrogate and reconstitute identity – to create oneself through music. As
one student put it: “This gave me something to grow up with.”
But how does all of this reflect Hip-Hop creativities or shed light on our discussion of
culturally responsive pedagogies?
Recall the essential creativities of Hip-Hop I present earlier in this chapter: oral storytell-
ing, social commentary, knowledge – keepin’ it real, critical thinking and dialogue, and chal-
lenging norms of language and identity. In the compositional examples that I share in this
text, we find those creativities boldly expressed by these young students. From presenting
commentary on race and police brutality to sharing personal issues of isolation and silencing
as children of color in contemporary schooling, the children, through these Hip-Hop cre-
ativities, embody what Freire (1972) refers to as “naming their world in order to transform
it” (148). This impulse toward critical citizenship and voice revealed in the students’ works is
the essence of Hip-Hop creativities as I have conceptualized them in this chapter.
What astounded me most is that the children innately recognized these essential creativi-
ties and used them to tell their stories. I, myself, was unaware of them going into this study.
In fact, I was, for the most part, unaware of Hip-Hop at all. And this leads us back to the
title of this chapter – “Beyond the Surface…” – and to my claim at the outset that the voices
of our students of color are missing from our conversations about culturally responsive
pedagogies. I came to understand what I present in this chapter only as a result of working
with, watching, and listening to these students; letting them show me what a meaningful
and transformative music classroom might look like in this situation, with these children, at
this time; by letting them expose me to and lead me through what Villaverde (2008) refers
to as “dangerous dialogues,” that is, “topics or issues considered controversial or historical
events marginalized to maintain control and complicity within dominant discourse” (125).
Hip-Hop is full of such dangerous dialogues.
As a music teacher educator, composition is a central topic that I explore with my pre-­
service music education students. As a teacher-educator in the United States, I am also
tasked with helping my students understand and implement our national standards into
their vision of music teaching and learning. In those standards “creating” (the standard that
alludes to composing and improvising) references the ability to explore “melodic contour,”
understand and be able to produce standard musical structures like “ABA form…theme and
variations… introduction, transition and coda.” Students are encouraged to create com-
positions that “demonstrate tension and release, unity and variety, balance…and harmonic
sequences.” All of these attributes are clearly rooted in Western Classical music, grounded
in a “mythologized [and] accepted canon of ‘great composers’” (Burnard, 2016, 31), and
their primacy in our national standards speaks to the continuing monopoly of this “White”
canon in the way that we conceptualize musical processes and products. Hip-Hop creativ-
ities are not reflected in these standards.
Kruse and Gallo (2020) propose that “what constitutes creative activity in Hip-Hop of-
ten does not translate to Eurocentric musical values” (p. 62) yet “educators whose musical
backgrounds are steeped in Eurocentric art music likely conceptualize experiences and
facilitate creative work according to those conventions.” Put differently, music educators,
and our discipline as a whole, tend to “listen for whiteness” as the cultural standard for
creativity in the music classroom (Koza, 2008).
 Beyond the Surface of Culturally Responsive Pedagogies  145
While we, as a discipline, are slowly beginning to recognize and confront these ten-
sions and contradictions, Hip-Hop remains a debated topic in K-12 music education
not only in the United States but to some extent globally. Tobias (2014) suggests that
despite the question of whether or not music educators embrace Hip-Hop, students
(even as young as the ones in this study) are using this music in powerful ways outside
of school. Through their engagements with Hip-Hop they are “negotiating issues of
identity, representation, and agency” (73) and using Hip-Hop to “analyze complex so-
cial issues” (49).
Through Hip-Hop, the young children in this study exhibited what Kress (2003) refers
to as “writing back” (6). They used their compositions to raise questions not entertained in
school (Soderman & Sernhede, 2016) and found answers “intertwined with their [own] aes-
thetic practices” (150). They voiced complex and often conflicted negotiations of identity as
children of color in relation to popular culture and broader sociocultural issues, embracing
the opportunity to “author” their own stories, through music. They became not only con-
sumers or guardians of culture but producers of culture.
All of this speaks to an imperative to recognize and sustain a broader conceptualization
of musical creativities beyond our current, “outmoded singular form”; to include “manifes-
tations of multiple creativities” (Burnard, 2016, 33); to recognize the plurality of creativites
rooted in social practices (Szabo, Burnard, Harris, Fenyvesi & Kangasvieri, 2021) as wit-
nessed in the study I have shared here.
Likewise, Hip-Hop creativities are not singular but rather reflect a multiplicity of cul-
tural expressions. In this chapter I have chosen to explore what I consider the essential
creativities of Hip-Hop – its “essence”; that is, those that most deeply reflect the creative
impulse of Hip-Hop. These are the creativities that informed my work in this instance with
these children. As previously noted, there are other facets of Hip-Hop creativities that are
distinctly discipline centric – rhyme, rhythm, flow, beat. These are certainly important
Hip-Hop creativities to explore with students in a music classroom. However, I argue
that teaching students only the musical skills of writing a rap or constructing a beat is, at
the very least, insufficient in honoring and sustaining Hip-Hop as a cultural and creative
expression. At worst, it can too easily lead to appropriation of Hip-Hop for normative
[white] practices. By detaching Hip-Hop from the creative impulses that fuel it – struggle,
resistance, transgression, opposition, knowledge, voice – white educators strip Hip-Hop of
its powerful descriptive of the overlooked contexts in our society and of those who inhabit
them – our students of color.

Conclusion
I have attempted in this chapter to shed light on the intimate connection between culturally
responsive pedagogies, creativity, and the inclusion of Hip-Hop in our music classrooms.
I have also attempted to draw attention to the powerful connection between culturally
responsive pedagogies, grounded in the voices of our students, and the creative musical
products generated by those students.
A culturally responsive pedagogical space, articulated in their own voices, afforded these
children an opportunity to speak, learn, engage, and create using their own cultural codes
reflective of the cultural context in which they are living, learning, and becoming. Those
cultural codes, rooted in Hip-Hop, and that cultural context were revealed to me through
the lens of their lived experiences. Without my students as my guide, without their voices
informing me of what culturally responsive pedagogy means in our shared space, the trans-
formational experience of this research study would not have been possible.
146  Judy Lewis
Epilogue
Jayden (whose rap you read previously) is a small and energetic boy. Every week, he would
wait for me outside our “music room” long before class started. I soon realized that he was
getting kicked out of other classes for disrupting and, on the days that I came, searching
me out rather than sit alone in the hallway. He liked to help set up our space, sit with me
before the others arrived, ask me questions, and tell me about things he was doing outside
of school. The week after he performed his rap in class, I found him waiting for me when I
got to school. We set up the room and sat down to chat. At one point in our conversation I
said to Jayden, “You know, I read through the lyrics of your rap again and I wanted to ask
you: What’s the message in your song that you’re trying to get across?” Jayden looked at me
shyly then lowered his eyes to the floor and answered, “I want everyone to know that I can
do more than what you think I can.”
Beyond the surface – at the heart of culturally responsive pedagogies – is an invitation; one
that welcomes a plurality of voices and creativities we have yet to conceive. For, when we ask
our students to show us “what they can do” it will always be beyond our own imaginings.

Questions for Consideration

1 What do you think are some of the unique challenges for music educators who wish to
facilitate a culturally responsive pedagogy like the one described in this chapter?
2 How have you thought about culturally responsive pedagogies in the past? Given Gay’s
comprehensive framework discussed in this chapter, what have you been missing?
How might you go about engaging with those facets of this framework in your own
practice?
3 Why is student voice so important in culturally responsive pedagogies and how might
you facilitate this in a music classroom? How might you advocate for it to a principal in
your school?
4 In what ways does the pedagogical approach shared in this chapter challenge your prior
understandings and assumptions regarding music education? About creativities?
5 Thinking back on your own education, in what ways have certain musical voices been
privileged and others silenced?

Notes
1 Essential: “pertaining to or constituting the essence of a thing”; https://www.dictionary.com/
browse/essential
2 Feddy Wap/Trap Queen –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_kF4zLNKio
3 Beyonce/Diva –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNM5HW13_O8
4 Snoop Dog/Drop It Like It’s Hot –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtUVQei3nX4
5 Ayo & Teo/Rolex –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwk5OUII9Vc
6 Future & Lil’ Uzi/ I Woke Up in a new Bugatti –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djE-BLrdDDc
7 Ayo & Teo/Rolex –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwk5OUII9Vc
8 Migos ft. Lil’ Uzi/Bad and Bougee –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-sJp1FfG7Q
9 Beyonce ft. Kendrick Lamar/ Freedom –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bkryf5Qc9rg

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13 Sparking and Sustaining the
Songwriting Process
Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha

Introduction
At the core of our chapter is the question: how might we as music educators spark and
sustain the songwriting process in teaching and learning contexts? This is an important
question to address in considering how to embed creativities with digital music technol-
ogies into the curriculum (Burnard, 2011). In our case, we examine this question in the
context of an undergraduate university music course in Canada from our perspectives as
students ( Juan and Ismail) and instructor (Adam). We only began to conceptualize the
songwriting component of our course as research when Juan mentioned to Adam that he
and Ismail were continuing to work together on their song two months after the course
had concluded. This was welcomed news for Adam amid an otherwise weary time. The
pandemic necessitated an abrupt transition from an in-person to online course in less than
a week, resulting in a sudden shift for the planned songwriting project. Adam wondered if
the alternative approach he assigned was successful or not and Juan and Ismail’s continued
collaboration was the first indication he received that there were positive outcomes. Adam
was intrigued by the initiative of Juan and Ismail to extend their collaboration beyond the
bounds of the class, and this served as the impetus to commence researching this case.
To generate data for this project, Adam, Juan, and Ismail had six video conference meet-
ings, approximately one hour each, to discuss the collaborative songwriting process of
Juan and Ismail. These discussions were open-ended and conversational, with the under-
standing that new knowledge was being produced in the act of interviewing each other
­( Brinkmann & Kvale, 2014). Following, these conversations were transcribed using Otter.
ai and then examined for their saliences. Rather than using a thematic approach to anal-
ysis as is often used in case studies (Stake, 1995), we were more interested and invested in
exploring how to best tell our story about music making (Leavy, 2020). To that end, we
proceed with a first-person account from Adam as the instructor, followed by the instruc-
tions provided by Adam for the project, which are interspersed with conversational excerpts
between the authors that provide insights into Juan and Ismail’s creative process.

Instructor Perspective: Adam

The case of Juan and Ismail is a best-case scenario, one in which they not only responded
to my pedagogical prompts but exceeded them by developing their co-written song into a
commercial release. In effect, the initial assignment served as the spark, but Juan and Ismail
fueled the figurative flame to sustain the songwriting process until its course was completed
(as opposed to the course being completed). I have previously written about teaching popular
music pedagogy (Bell et al., 2019), my songwriting model (Bell, 2019a), and my related
assessment model (Bell, 2019b), but it is worth reiterating a few relevant points from these

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-16
150  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
writings for the sake of context. Songwriting is elemental to my popular pedagogy course;
all students are expected to engage in collaborative songwriting (Bennett, 2011). I typically
introduce students to two different starting strategies for songwriting, commencing with
either (1) the melody or (2) the beat, and then layering the remaining elements of the song
upon these initial building blocks. Bennett (2012) refers to the beat-first approach detailed
in this chapter as “top-lining,” which Seabrook (2015) and Auvinen (2017) have discussed in
detail using examples from pop and hip-hop. As McIntyre (2011) makes clear, songwriters
need to be familiar with the respective “domain” in which they are working, and therefore
the top-lining approach is appropriate for most of my students given their immersion and
interest in pop, hip-hop, and R&B. This approach hinges on the concept of the studio as an
instrument (Bell, 2018), making the digital audio workstation and its associated musical cre-
ativities the locus of songwriting (Moir & Medbøe, 2015; Marrington, 2011, 2017). Notably,
this practice of “playing the studio” and its associated creativities predates the DAW and is
evident in diverse musics including rock (Zak, 2001), pop (Warner, 2003), dub (Veal, 2007),
and hip-hop (Rose, 1994), to name a few. This approach demands creativities (Burnard, 2012),
in particular by drawing on the diverse ways in which producers make songs using digital
technologies (Burnard, 2011). Furthermore, this approach pits collaboration at the core be-
cause it is authentic to real-world practices (Burnard, 2014), as Warner (2003) confirms:

The transposition of the Romantic notion of the artist as inspired individual into pop-
ular culture is undermined by the reality of pop music production, which is almost
invariably the result of teamwork. And it is in the recording studio, the very crucible of
creativity in pop music, that the team works.
(p. 35)

In sum, the project we discuss in this chapter is predicated on the creativities of the
p­ roducer—a prominent position in popular music culture that music education has largely
failed to include in curricula, let alone acknowledge as valid. What follows is our collective
process of examining the creativities of the producer in the context of a songwriting project
as one possible way to integrate these practices into the curriculum. Conceptually, there are
two phases to this project—spark and sustain—and we commence with how to spark the
songwriting process.

Spark
To inaugurate the songwriting process, I, Adam, try to spark my students’ interest and I
have found that this can be a trying task. Oftentimes, my students are not inherently excited
about the prospect of writing a song, so I try to facilitate this process by employing what
Bennett (2015) refers to as a “Constraint-Based Task,” defining, delimiting, and dictating
aspects of the songwriting process. As Finney and Philpott (2010) observe, there is an in-
herent contradiction, even tension, in teaching predominantly informally learned musics
in formal settings such as our university. Rather than sidestepping this reality, I address this
issue upfront with my students. We discuss how schooling is regimented: we start and stop
at prescribed times and our groupings are not necessarily organic the way they might be
elsewhere. Taken together, the realm of schooling might not be the optimal environment
to co-write a song. And yet, there are some upsides to this arrangement, including having
places to play the music you want without having to buy or rent instruments. The instructor
doubles as an overpaid “roadie” who helps set up the drum kits and PA systems but can also
give crash course instrumental lessons on demand. The final examination—Exam Jam—is
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  151
at a bar where your friends and family members can experience the evidence of your music
learning in an authentic performance environment.
So yes, on the one hand, the class and its associated assignments are not “real” in the sense
that they would not occur in this way outside of the classroom; but, on the other hand, the
reality of the students’ learning and experiences cannot be denied. I have witnessed the full
range of emotions emitted by my students in this class. Tears have been shed; guitars have
been shred; hearts and strings alike have been broken as my students express themselves
through their songs. What I stress to my students is that inspirations come and go and there-
fore you cannot depend on them. Instead, we must develop a discipline for creating new
music. One such way to do this is to create a prompt, a spark.
In our conversations, we discussed the value of songwriting prompts:

ADAM
If we’re thinking about the chapter in terms of sparking the songwriting process, it
has less to do with the prompt and more to do with trying to create bonds amongst
people in a group, right?
ISMAIL
I think so.
JUAN
The prompts and assignments helped, though. It gave us direction.
ISMAIL
It gave us direction for sure, because I don’t think it would have been that simple,
especially considering most of it was online communication. Writing a song with other
people is not easy when you don’t have someone pushing you to do it. I feel like if it
wasn’t an assignment, I would have just been like, “Yeah, let’s just delay this, delay this,
delay this.”

*****
It is worth noting that Adam singled out the importance of fostering bonds within the class.
Juan and Ismail were part of a group of six, including their friend Fereidoon, a rapper. The
group gelled immediately and effortlessly, which in turn helped to foster the long-term
collaboration between Juan and Ismail.

ISMAIL
I think, Juan, you and me wanted to discuss the fact that we wanted to make it [the
song] together in the first place. And then Fereidoon wanted to be included as well. So,
I think we both had the intention of making something professionally out of it before
we even started. “Let’s use this as a catalyst.”
ADAM
So, you knew you wanted to do something more serious? Was it before it [the pro-
ject] even started?
JUAN
Yeah, it wasn’t necessarily going to be that song, but we knew we wanted to work
with each other in the future. It just happened that this is the first one.
ADAM
How did you know that you wanted to work with each other in the future?
ISMAIL
I think it just clicks when you’re working with the groups.
152  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
JUAN
Ismail and Fereidoon kept showing us their songs and if it wasn’t for the pandemic,
I would have played live with them. We would have played their music live. Because I
think Ismail before that, you were using backing tracks, right?
ISMAIL
We all discussed the idea of, “Hey, why don’t we perform together?” You guys [other
students in the group] know how to play instruments, it would just be better. But obvi-
ously, we can’t do that now. This [song] just became the number one focus because we
didn’t have a choice to do live performances [due to the pandemic].

*****
With a sense of camaraderie and a shared goal of producing a song, Juan and Ismail were
well positioned to commence the songwriting process. In the following section, we outline
the prompts provided to the class by Adam, the instructor, interspersed with Juan and Is-
mail’s responses to the phases.

Beat-First Approach

Phase 1: TRACK
1 The aim of Phase 1 is to use a beat-first strategy to create the foundation for a song us-
ing a DAW (digital audio workstation). This foundation is what’s known as a TRACK.
2 You need two things to make a TRACK: (i) a beat and (ii) something else. This could
be a lot of things such as a bassline, chord progression, or an ambient pad. Start with the
beat (use loops or make your own) and then add something else. Don’t overthink it. If
you’re really stuck, listen to the Billboard 100 for inspiration.
3 Don’t create a melody! This is what Phase 2 is for.
4 Don’t write a whole song! This is what Phase 3 is for.
5 Instead, create a short section (around 30s). Just enough so that someone else can im-
provise with it (coming in Phase 2)
6 I’ve made a quick example so you can see/hear what I mean. Yes, I know this is not a
masterpiece, and that’s ok. I used some loops and recorded in a few other parts using
the QWERTY keyboard on my laptop, which I don’t really know how to play.
7 For our next class, please make your own TRACK with Soundtrap (DAW). Just make
something you’re happy with. Feel free to make many!

If you’re having difficulty with the musical or creative side of things, stop thinking and start
clicking. Drag and drop some loops and hear what happens.

*****
ADAM
I gave you guys the track and hook assignment, right? So, in Soundtrap, did you start
it off, Juan?
JUAN
I guess so, with instrumentals. It was the base of the song that we eventually, me and
Ismail, collaborated on. And it also helped that I had prior experience with Soundtrap.
I already knew how to find the sounds I wanted and go through all the different effects
and stuff.
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  153
ADAM
Who made what?
JUAN
I made all the instrumentals and then Ismail came in with the vocals. So, it was kind
of like a producer-singer relationship at that point. And then Fereidoon with the solo.
ADAM
One of the things I was gonna ask is about the choices for sounds...
JUAN
I either started with piano or drums. For the drums, I was just skimming through,
and this was the only one that had the snare that I like. The kick, and the snare, and
the hi-hat, which are the core of the drums for me, those were the only sounds in
Soundtrap, the free version, that I liked for this particular song.
ADAM
Did you write the beat, or is it premade?
JUAN
I wrote it. I varied some of it, like the bigger chunks here and here [pointing to
screen] is where I varied it, I think, but for the most part, it’s a loop.
ADAM
Did you program it on your keyboard?
JUAN
Yeah, I had my MIDI controller at that point. It was an MPC. I did a standard trap
beat, and then Rhodes, the piano. There’s this bassline, acoustic guitar.
ADAM
The only audio track is the vocal tracks, right?
JUAN
Yeah, everything else is MIDI. Even that guitar part, which actually the guitar part
sounds pretty good for MIDI. I think it helps that I actually play guitar, so I know the
guitar voicings.

*****
With the initial TRACK made, Juan and Ismail proceeded to the subsequent stage, Phase
2: HOOK, following Adam’s next set of instructions.

Phase 2: HOOK
First off, excellent work on Phase 1! Y’all produced some hot TRACKs.
Now we’re onto Phase 2, HOOKs:

1 This is meant to be a quick phase. You should be able to do this in less than an hour.
2 Your job will be to write/record three HOOKS (melodies) on someone else’s TRACK.
3 The point is to quickly improvise/create and record some melodies using either your
voice OR a melodic instrument (e.g., a keyboard in Soundtrap).
4 Long melodies aren’t a thing in any kind of popular music I’ve heard from the past
century. Keep ‘em short!
5 If you refer to my sample, you’ll notice I’ve recorded three hooks. They are not meant
to be played together, so I keep them muted. The idea is to unmute one at a time to
audition them.
6 Think of HOOK writing as sound doodling. Don’t overthink it. Just react and record.
7 After you’ve done this, try to improve your hooks by editing or adding effects.
154  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
8 Don’t worry about these being too polished. We’ll try to make these as presentable as
we can in Phase 3.

*****
As Ismail explains, in this phase he relied on his previous experience as a lyric and melody
writer to generate both a verse and a chorus.

ISMAIL
I played the instrumental that Juan sent me over and over again and just freestyled
myself the same way I do all the other songs until I came up with a melody.
JUAN
We were debating on this chorus for so long.
ISMAIL
At the end of the day, I hated this chorus, we just settled with it because it was like,
this is an assignment, let’s get this done.
ADAM
But the verse stayed, right?
JUAN
Yeah, but we did debate on it for a while. We tried rewriting it and everything. And
we went back and listened to it, and we’re like, “Oh, it’s not that bad.”
ADAM
Ismail, do you remember how long it would take you to come up with a melody that
you’re happy with?
ISMAIL
You know, I had a phase where it was so easy. And this was part of it. I remember, it
was so easy for me to come up with melodies. I would just write down and okay, bam,
right there. And now, it’s the hardest thing ever.
ADAM
So, Ismail, you wrote this first chorus?
JUAN
Yeah, Ismail. Originally, Ismail wrote everything.

*****
Up until this point, Juan and Ismail followed the formula closely; however, since they had
already established ideas of a verse and chorus entering Phase 3, they were able to progress
through the final phase expediently.

Phase 3: Form/Structure

Part 1: Editing
a So far, you’ve created some parts of a song, but you might not have a structure for your
song yet, and that’s ok. The primary tool you will use to create a structure to your song
is editing. Once you know how to cut/paste, you can replicate sections of your song
and move them around. This is common practice in popular music production.

b I suggest picking some exemplar(s) to guide your decisions about musical form. Listen
to how other popular songs are structured and follow suit. To help you make these
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  155
decisions, you might want to create labels for your sections such as “verse” or “cho-
rus”—it doesn’t matter what you call them as long as you can differentiate between sec-
tions and organize them, however, you see fit. In the real world of popular music there
are no rules, just conventions, and even they are prone to change. The only guarantee
is that a song begins and ends. What should happen in between is subject to debate.
The best advice I can give you is to identify songs you like and try to emulate their
structures.
c It’s convenient to separate TRACKs from HOOKs as we did in Phases 1 and 2, but of
course there is interplay between both. Be mindful of how these elements influence the
structure of a song. Again, use examples of songs you like to guide your decisions.
d You can always go back and change the structure, but I suggest picking one and stick-
ing with it. Once you’ve got a workable structure, it’s easier to put the other pieces in
place.
e Repetition is your friend. Last but not least, in popular music there is much repetition.
So, a song might be 3 minutes long, but consist of seconds of material that is looped or
repeated. Not only is it ok to do this, it’s encouraged!

*****
As Juan explains, prior to this phase he had already identified a song to use as an exemplar:

ADAM
Juan, you already had the D’Angelo song in mind?
JUAN
I was working on the “Show What You Know” [a different class assignment], and I
was practicing the piano part for “Untitled (How Does It Feel?)” by D’Angelo, and for
our song, I just took that, which is originally D major, and I put it down in C major.

*****
The final form of the song that Juan and Ismail settled on was Verse-Chorus-Instrumental
Solo-Verse-Chorus. Next, the scaffolded sequence of instruction proceeded from establish-
ing a song structure, replete with melodies, to adding lyrics.

Part 2: Lyrics
a Popular music has lyrics. Your song should, too.

b Joke? No matter how mundane popular music lyrics might seem to you (a common
complaint I hear), they’re usually not meant to be a joke. Granted, there are novelty
songs that occasionally crack the Billboard 100, but these are rare exceptions. Don’t get
me wrong, Weird Al is a genius.
c Themes. Indeed, popular music lyrics are often predictable and generic. There are
recurring themes in popular music, and this is very much a cultural phenomenon.
For example, in Canada, we tend to love songs about love (and heartbreak) from the
first-person perspective of the singer. It’s very “me-focused.” What other themes do
you hear in popular music? What do your favorite musicians do lyrically? What can you
learn from them and emulate?
d More than words. Super producer Max Martin says that he’s more concerned about
how words flow and sound when they’re sung than their literal meanings (Seabrook,
156  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
2015). I really love this aspect of music, where things just aren’t as they seem. There
can be a lyric that on paper is clearly better than another, but when you sing it, it just
doesn’t work. Be mindful that this might be the case for your song, too.

*****
ADAM
Do you remember coming up with this stuff, Ismail?
ISMAIL
The writing?
JUAN
I actually don’t remember if you’ve told me this yet.
ISMAIL
I was in the middle of writing like, four other songs. I sing about relatable stuff. Most
of my songs are about love and heartbreak. So, it’s just like, why not apply the same
concepts in this class? Because also Juan likes D’Angelo, so I was like, hey, add a little
R&B to it and it works fine, but it wasn’t too deep. It wasn’t as deep as I wanted it to be.

*****
The lyrics of the song are as follows:

Verse 1:
You’re on my mind
I think about you
All of the time
I just wanna love you
And make it alright
I know I can’t replace you
No one can replace you

Chorus:
So let’s just waste our time
I know that you’re mine
We’ll travel the world
And we could just fly
And you’ll never know
If you don’t take a chance
So just take my hand
And just fly away with me
So just fly away with me

Verse 2:
It’s that look on your face
I know that you smile
When I say your name
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  157
The feeling I get
I’m loving your taste
No one can replace you
No one can replace you

*****
Following the writing of the lyrics, the next step was for someone to sing them. Both Juan
and Ismail were comfortable singing, but as the instructions imply, it is often the case that
students in the class are reluctant to sing.

Part 3: Vocals
a WAIT, does this mean I have to sing?! Maybe. Maybe not. You get to decide.
Keep in mind that you’re responsible as a songwriter-producer, not necessarily as a
performer. So, that means you can choose to write your own lyrics and sing them or
collaborate with others to write and sing.
b High quality audio is not necessary. The purpose is to write a song by recording it
(the way popular musicians tend to). With Soundtrap, you can record with any
­internet-connected device. This means you can sing into your phone/tablet/computer
mic. You don’t need a special mic.
c Vocal doubling. One technique that works for some artists is to record multiple passes
of the same vocal line. This adds a texture to the voice that some people find more
appealing. Try it out, it might work for you, too.
d Comping. Again, editing can be helpful. It’s quite common not to record the vocal
all in one take, but instead in multiple takes and then piece together the best bits with
editing. This is called comping.

*****

As part of their back-and-forth creative process, Ismail recorded his parts first (one verse
and one chorus) and then Juan recorded the other verse and chorus. Both singers discuss not
only recording their vocals but processing them too with tuning and other effects.

ISMAIL
I just wanted to partially make some of them [vocal recordings] myself. Just because
I looked at some of the effects on here [Soundtrap], I just hadn’t got used to it. So, I
used GarageBand for this because it’s on my MacBook. So, I just put it [the song] on
there. I used pitch correction, reverb, too, mess with EQ a little bit, and I have that
on there.
ADAM
So, Juan bounced out a track for you and you just put it in GarageBand? Sing overtop,
basically?
JUAN
I think that’s what I did, the same thing for mine. I did mine in Ableton Lite at that
point, the free version of Ableton and I had to download a third-party auto tune be-
cause Ableton doesn’t come with pitch correction.

*****
158  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
For the final set of instructions, which include instrumentation and mixing, we devoted
less time to discussing because Juan and Ismail reported spending relatively little time on
these final processes.

Part 4: Instrumentation
I’m not going to write much about this because our time is limited, but here are a couple
of quick tips that I find helpful:

a Mute. You may choose to add/delete instrumentation throughout Phase 3. It’s a good
idea not to delete anything outright and instead toggle between muting and unmuting
parts to hear if they work or not.
b Layering. Similar to the above, it’s a common technique in popular music to add more
elements as the song progresses in duration. This can be as simple as adding another
instrument doubling a part played by another instrument—simple but effective.
b Same part, different instrument. Sometimes there’s a part that will sound better with
a different instrument (or sound). In other words, timbre (sound qualities) matter and
make a difference. The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” probably wouldn’t be #1 if the
opening hook was played on a tuba instead of synth. No disrespect, tuba.

Part 5: Mix
We just don’t have the time to delve into mixing, unfortunately. If I’m wrong, and you’d
like some guidance on mixing, I’m happy to provide it. Here are four basic guiding
principles:

a Balance. By now you’ve probably figured out how to adjust the relative volumes of your
recorded tracks, which historically is called balance. Do this well and you’ll be set up
for success.
b Mute. I always ask students if there are recorded tracks that they can do without, and
if so, mute them. Suddenly, it’s as if everything else can be heard more clearly! I can
explain why this is the case, but not here, not now.
c Pan. This means putting things left to right in your headphones/speakers. Typically,
central focal points of a mix are in the center, such as vocals. Same goes for low fre-
quency elements like bass and kick drum. Other elements can be panned left or right
with care, and this should create a sense of width in your mix. Again, listen to music
you like and try to identify how they pan the different elements in a song.
4 Reverb. Try adding reverb to non-bass elements, even if just a little. It should make
your mix a little more 3D, by giving some sense of depth.

Part 6: Done?
When you’re done, let me know so I can listen. I hope we can share these with everyone
in the class so we can all appreciate the hard work that went into our songwriting. Keep in
mind that I’m not expecting a polished end product; just do your best with the time and
resources that you have. So far, you’re doing great, and I’m confident that if you are able to
keep up your level, you’ll produce something that you’re proud of.

*****
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  159
ADAM
So, you said it took two hours total?
JUAN
Roughly, probably. Like getting the instruments down and these loops only took
maybe 45 minutes. And then Ismail came back with his verse and chorus within like
a day or so. And then once I saw that, I had a base for mine, which only took me 30
minutes to write something. I knew the verse was gonna be the same, or the chorus is
gonna be the same. And then the verse I changed a little bit, the pre chorus, and then
the verse is completely different. That didn’t take that long, like three hours max for
this.
ADAM
You know, you’re working from home and online and all that. How did that work?
How did you guys communicate?
JUAN
We didn’t really talk much as you can see in our chat, we didn’t really talk much. It’s
kind of just like I had an idea, I had the instruments, and then Fereidoon came in with
this [solo], and then Ismail came with this [singing]. We kind of just went with the flow.

*****
After having discussed the various phases of making the song, we then listened to it to-
gether for the first time in months.

ADAM
So, what do you guys think?
JUAN
It’s not as bad as I remember, but it’s not as good as I hoped.
ADAM
I think it sounds pretty good.
JUAN
I think I’m just picky.
ISMAIL
I think when you compare it to this one [newest version], I would say it’s shit, but
when you when you first hear it, we’re like, “This is nuts! This is so good!”
JUAN
Well, the first one took two hours. Two hours compared to like, 100 hours. You
know? It’s not fair to compare them.

*****
As Ismail explains, he and Juan felt compelled to continue, and applied what they learned to
creating and marketing an improved version of the song, which signals the transition from
spark to sustain:

ISMAIL
Juan and I discussed the idea of releasing our music officially as we were working on
the assignment portion for our class. We instantly knew it deserved to be on streaming
platforms.
SUSTAIN
160  Adam Patrick Bell, Juan Cacho, and Ismail Okasha
As Juan revealed, the second iteration of his collaboration with Ismail took signifi-
cantly more time to complete. Because these activities took place outside of the class,
there was no planned sequence of events; instead, Juan and Ismail worked on their song
when they could at their own respective paces. They communicated over Facebook
Messenger about next steps and as Juan detailed, “We would FaceTime with Discord
calls sometimes, but only every two months or so, which is why it took so long.”
We—Ismail, Juan, and Adam—discussed the final version of the song, focusing on
the differences with the class version. The primary differences can be grouped into
three categories: (1) re-recording, or changing sounds, (2) recording and mixing vo-
cals, and (3) mixing and mastering. To discuss the changes in sounds, Juan did a “mix
walkthrough” with Ismail and Adam, explaining what he retained and changed from
the class version to the final version. He noted how he was influenced by “Beauty and
Essex” by Free Nationals featuring Daniel Caesar and Unknown Mortal Orchestra:
I took my time recreating the instrumentals and that took quite a while because I’m
particular about sounds. I could spend hours just finding/shaping a snare sound. As
well, it took many takes for the bass and guitar parts as I was recording and prac-
ticing at the same time.
Following this step, Juan moved onto recording and mixing vocals:
After I was happy with the instrumentals, we started working on the vocals.
Honestly this was a whole other process. Ismail and I spent many video/voice
calls just rewriting the whole song. Entire new melodies and lyrics only to end
up changing the chorus, which became “So just fly away with me.” Once we were
happy with the lyrics, we began recording our vocals. Ismail would record and
pitch correct his vocals and then send them to me via email. I would then take his
vocals and put them into Ableton along with mine. Another big chunk of time
was then processing and mixing the vocals with the instrumentals, which I think
I did in one 7-hour sitting. I was then mastering the song while also working on
marketing for the release of the song on March 11, 2021, nearly a year after starting
this project.
Furthermore, Juan dedicated considerable time and energy to writing and recording
backup vocals.
JUAN
There’s a lot of layers on the background vocals. Like a lot of layers.
ADAM
How many different parts are there? Do you know?
JUAN
For each main vocal, I usually separate two channels for octaves. And then harmonies,
these two are octaves. These two are harmonies, these three are harmonies, and then
the same for Ismail’s parts. And then I added this, a choir part, for the end. I don’t really
remember what I did. I just remember a lot of layers. I like doing background vocals.

*****
Lastly, Juan dedicated much of his time into learning about mixing and then invested
much of his energy into applying what he learned. For example, he was influenced by one
of Wavy Wayne’s YouTube tutorials on how to mix vocals and achieve a “Chris Brown
sound.” Juan estimated that he spent 20–25 hours mixing the song over the course of a
 Sparking and Sustaining the Songwriting Process  161
month. Following a similar process of relying on YouTube tutorials and other online guides
for how to master a song for streaming services such as Spotify, Juan applied his learning in
this regard to their song, which would eventually be released as “Away” by Tobi Sinclair
featuring SMIO, Juan and Ismail’s respective artist names.
Reflecting on the songwriting process, Juan commented: “Ismail and I have still yet to
have an in-person writing session. However! I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything,
it led to my first single out as Tobi Sinclair :-)” When asked about the value of the pro-
ject for him, Ismail responded: “I took what I learned in class and what I knew about the
music industry and used it to release and market our song.” Lastly, giving his perspective
as instructor, Adam commented: “I feel fortunate to have been your ( Juan’s and Ismail’s)
instructor. I never would have imagined that the seeds of this assignment would lead to
such a collaboration.”
A spark is a little thing, and yet with the right elements in the right context, it can grow
into its own self-sustaining blaze. The song “Away”—the product of the fiery flurry of Juan
and Ismail’s creativity—serves as a reminder of the interdependent nature of creativities in
the classroom between students and instructor. Inevitably it seems, some flames will fizzle
out, but if we fuel and fan them, they will rage on. Chapters, like courses, come to an end,
but the story and music, like Juan and Ismail’s collaboration, sustain.

Questions for Consideration

1 What are the creativities of the producer?
2 This chapter discussed a beat-first approach to songwriting. What other approaches to
songwriting exist and how do their creativities differ or not?
3 What creativities are manifested in collaborative songwriting? Consider the different
roles involved in a collaborative approach such as in the case of Juan and Ismail.
4 How are digital music technologies used in songwriting and what are the creativities
associated with using/playing them?

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14 Beyond ‘Careers’
Composing Musical Lives through
Metamusical Creativity
Lloyd McArton

Creativity is undoubtedly one of the most important and evolving topics of discussion in
any field of artistic study. In regard to the increasingly expanding field of music education, it
has been suggested (Scherer, 2020) that creativity is a ‘desirable democratic and educational
skill’ (p. 1) with the potential to increase ‘student engagement’ (p. 68). However, creativity
remains largely absent from most formal and school-based music education (Bolden, 2014).
This could, at least in part, be a result of music teachers’ training. Odena and Welch’s (2009)
generative model on music teachers’ conceptions of creativity indicates that past experiences
with creativity – both formal and informal – are fundamental in shaping their capabilities
and likelihood to facilitate creative musical activities for their students. It is perhaps un-
surprising then that creativity has not been established widely as a foundational element in
formal music education, considering that the prevailing model of North American school
music features rehearsals and performances of already-written sheet music directed by a
more experienced musician whose authoritative interpretation is the only notable source of
creative activity; ‘doing what someone tells you to do is not creative’ (Bolden, 2014, p. 2).
Defining what is creative becomes a daunting task, however, given the plethora of evolv-
ing definitions. Csikszentmihalyi (2015) suggests that ‘creativity can be defined as an idea
or product that is original, valued, and implemented’ (p. 162), which implies that creativity
is limited to concrete, reified products, such as works of art, musical pieces, inventions, or
architecture. These implications bring to mind the thought experiment typically reserved
for falling trees; if a musician generates a new musical idea and never releases it on Spotify,
are they still creative? Theorizing creative products in the absence of creative processes fails to
account for creativity that exists in the actions, temporal realities, or flow (Csikszentmihalyi,
1997) inherent in musical activities.
This issue applies equally to the effort and ingenuity required in the working composition
of musicians’ lives, which is the central phenomenon of this chapter; these are creatively de-
manding processes that drastically affect one’s quality of life, shaped by surrounding com-
munities and infrastructure. Csikszentmihalyi’s (2015) ‘systems model of creativity’ speaks
to creativities as embedded within social constructs and systems. He proposes that creativity
exists on three interconnected planes – the field, the domain, and the individual: the field
comprises the social and bureaucratic structures encompassing the creativity in question,
determining its subsequent transmissibility and value; the domain is the cultural system by
which any creative action or idea might be replicated or spread through contemporary or
subsequent agents; and lastly the individual, who contributes the creative actions towards
the field and domain (p. 47). In the creative pursuit of cobbling together a musical life,
however, there exists no cultural ‘domain’ where the creativity required to organize your
life around music can be passed on from generation to generation. All one tends to hear is
‘hard work and luck’, rather than the collection of lived realities of nimbly jumping from
job to job to scrape together a living that enables the pursuit of music.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-17
164  Lloyd McArton
This disconnect between theory and practice is worsened by a deeper flaw in the systems
model of creativity (Csikszentmihalyi, 2015), in which creativity is distorted by Darwinian
principles. By proposing that the field ‘selects from the variations [of creativity] produced by
individuals those that are worth preserving’ (p. 47), it is implied that creativity as both an
artistic pursuit and a means of financial success is one and the same, rather than two separate
pursuits, and that they are collectively governed by a model of survival of the fittest. This
is corroborated by references to a study conducted by Getzels and Cskiszentmilialyi (1976),
in which they found that students who exhibited traits ‘traditionally associated with artistic
­personality – nonconforming, socially aloof, impulsive – are incompatible with artistic suc-
cess in the contemporary world’ (p. 235). Frequent references to ‘artistic success’ depict a clear
correlation between financial capital and creative success, suggesting that those who have not
(yet) achieved financial stability in their career as an artist are not as artistically ‘successful’.
Privileging the ‘popular’ (i.e. successful) over the ‘unpopular’ (i.e. unsuccessful) under-
mines the value that musicians at all stages of various pathways can bring to their lives, com-
munities, and the world itself, and is concerning if left unchecked within discourses of music
education (Smith, 2013). In discussing the pluralism of creativity in music, Pamela Burnard
(2012) suggests that ‘there are multiple creativities involved in coming up with new, surpris-
ing, and valuable musical ideas, in producing a new sound, or a new album, or in establishing
a very large and loyal following’ (p. 45). This statement is situated amidst a growing body of
research on the role(s) of creativities in the career paths of musicians (Bennett, 2009, 2013,
2016; Burnard, 2012; Burnard & Stahl, 2021), particularly those educated by or adjacent to
university music programmes. Similarly, Teague and Smith (2015) discuss musical ‘portfolio
careers’ made up of several components that, together, might comprise a livable and healthy
work-life balance. Portfolio careers in music tend to include some sort of explicitly musical
activity at the centre, such as performing, composing, or producing, and are supplemented
by administrative jobs, teaching jobs, or technical jobs like audio engineering or mixing, to
name a few. These types of arrangements have also been called ‘boundaryless’ and ‘protean’
careers (Bennett, 2009), the latter representing life trajectories hinging upon the ability to
shapeshift in response to emergent opportunities. These authors have made it abundantly clear
that there is no singular pathway or approach to organizing one’s life around music – nor
is there a formula or recipe for ‘success’; however, it might be construed, as every musician
negotiates unique priorities, interests, and obligations.
Just as the musical activities that guide these lifestyles require creativity, so do the inge-
nuity and imaginative navigation of one’s future options in a musical career; Bennett (2013)
refers to these approaches as ‘career creativities’. Career creativities are said to involve ‘ex-
plor[ing] multiple possible futures, especially the unorthodox ones’ (p. 241), such that students
can ‘move away from the abstracted notion of success and towards individually oriented
aspirations and goals’ (p. 242). Towards the development of ‘expert selves’, the embedded
characteristics bring about a new outlook on creativity in the context of musical learning: the
creativities employed by musicians are not necessarily all musical, and the ability to imagine
a musically fulfilling future for oneself is perhaps the most important of all creativities. For
reasons discussed more thoroughly later on, however, the term ‘career’ represents at best an
incomplete picture of possible musical lives, and at worst a pernicious direction to focus one’s
creative endeavours. The intent of this chapter is to illuminate how new forms of creativity
can contribute to modes of musical living that exist beyond existing notions of ‘careers’.

Purpose and Methods

The ensuing thoughts, ideas, analyses, and reflections are derived from ethnographic research
data collected for my doctoral dissertation between May and December of 2020. These
data feature the lived experiences and learning pathways of 24 musicians from Toronto’s
 Beyond ‘Careers’  165
1
indie music scene, and is supplemented by my autoethnographic commentary and reflec-
tions. Their stories and thoughts have illuminated new perspectives on learning, music, and
how we might facilitate future lives where musical pathways can be pursued comfortably.
Among many other emergent themes in our discussions, creativity began shining through
the cracks of various stories and aspects of these musicians’ lives in ways that are not wholly
represented in previous discourses. Specifically, I was enthralled by novel and inventive ap-
proaches that the participants took towards organizing their entire existences around music,
composing their lives – which I will suggest are metamusical creativities.
Through analysis and discussion of these perspectives, what this chapter seeks to ac-
complish is twofold: (1) recalibrate the basis and definition of ‘career creativities’ in music,
arguing that discourses of creativity in music education ought to shift towards metamusical
creativity as a more hospitable descriptor of all livelihoods comprising significant musical
engagement; (2) provide an empirical foundation to metamusical creativity by featuring the
lived experiences and perspectives of the participants of this research.

Data and Analysis

Musical Lives
The participants featured in this research are all either active or previously active in musically
creative endeavours; they are members of ‘originals bands’ (Burnard, 2012), solo artists, and
all write music through acoustic and digital media. Each musician had completely different
sources of income, each of which had a different impact on their musical endeavours; this
is roughly summarized in Table 14.1. Five participants were involved in music as creators
full-time (F); ten had what others might call portfolio careers (P), which I will suggest are
defined by musicians whose income is derived from musical-related jobs that are not inher-
ently creative; nine had non-musical day jobs or side jobs (D) that give them little satisfaction
that they hold just to ‘pay the bills’ so that they could explore music in the rest of their time.

Table 14.1  P
 articipants’ primary source(s) of income at time of interview
Ariel Marketing freelancer D/S
Aurora Food courier, landscaping, bike store D/S
Betty Music store sales representative P
Brendan Performing/recording artist, composer (film) F
Cam H. Food courier, landscaping D/S
Cam R. Litigation assistant D/S
Cody Performing/recording artist F
Danielle Music teacher P
Darren Record label representative P
Dylan Recording engineer P
Freddy Music administration P
Greg Senior analyst (Financial services) D/S
Joey Front of house mixing engineer P
Justin Graduate student in Psychology D/S
Kevin Performing/recording artist F
Knobs Recording artist, instrument designer F
Max Composites Engineer D/S
Nick Performing/recording artist, producer, record label co-owner P
Noah Manager, record label co-owner P
Phil Recording engineer, mixing engineer, producer P
Ruhee Software engineer D/S
Shawn Part-time café barista, photographer D/S
Yang Music school administrator P
Zoon Performing/recording artist, composer (film) F
166  Lloyd McArton
All but one of the participants not working as a full-time musician indicated that they would
enjoy working less and spending more time with music, and even those who are in fully
musical careers now recalled times when they could not ‘do music full-time’. Phil explains
an earlier time of his life before his full-time job as a studio engineer:

Phil: I always consciously thought that when I got that job at the Mexican restaurant,
it felt like a defeat. I tried to make it full time and I lost. But I thought ‘I will quit this
job on a dime and not even worry about 2 weeks notice if an opportunity comes up’. It
was lower on the priority list than music.
Dylan: My first time only doing music, it wasn’t really full time. I was trying to get
it to full time. I’d have a really good month, have a great album that you have to record
in that month. But next month would be really dry, so I’d pick up a little odd job to
make up for it. I worked at a hostel building IKEA bunk beds for a month.

It is not easy to craft a life based entirely on music. Even for those who have experienced
relative success, the financial reward of ‘making it’ is not quite as lucrative as one might
expect. Nick, the guitarist and founding member of Hollerado, a well-known Canadian
indie band, recalls that:

Nick: ‘We had a joke that it was a fun job but at the end of the day it probably paid us
less than minimum wage over the 10 years that we were a band’.

Nick now operates a recording studio, co-owns an influential indie record label (Royal
Mountain Records), and has built as successful of a career as one could hope for in the indie
music scene and industry. His band’s joke reveals a harsh reality; even those who would be
considered relatively ‘famous’ and ‘successful’ in Canada’s indie scene may endure years of
poverty before developing a sustainable career. Hollerado’s trajectory required a tremendous
amount of sacrifice in the form of time, energy, and money, and they were only able to
maintain that band for ten years before individually moving on to other musical endeavours.

Day/Side Jobs
Noah Fralick, formerly from another Toronto record label Arts & Crafts, recalls his time
spent slogging it out in a band before also transitioning to a role in the music industry:

Noah: There were very random ways that I was trying to make a living. And it was
barely a living, like just making enough money to pay rent and stuff. It wasn’t until I
started working in the industry life that I got up above the poverty line.

In fact, all musicians that I spoke with had various ‘side jobs’ or ‘day jobs’ either at the time
of the interview (n=9) or previously (n=15) that they require(d) to stay afloat financially. A
few participants suggested that full-time music is not necessarily the ultimate goal:

Greg: I’d need some other thing on the go. I’m very susceptible of the hobby becoming
a jobby if it became something…
Ruhee: It helps a lot to have something stable where you know you’re making money
*laughs* so you can pay for your night job. Music is totally the night job…

These two participants share a bias in that they are currently dependent upon their non-­
musical jobs for income; one of the pillars of my research is the phenomenon surrounding
 Beyond ‘Careers’  167
the necessity of day jobs to support musical careers in Toronto, where exorbitant rent prices
and gentrification continue to push artists further and further from the central cultural hubs
of the city.
To complicate matters, finding a job that is flexible enough for musicians is a difficult
and evolving process. Many employers are not keen to allow their employees to take weeks
or months off at a time to go on tour with their band. Factoring in the additional time re-
quired by rehearsals, recording, marketing, and self-management, some participants found
it impossible to work a nine-to-five job and develop a musical career.

Ariel: I was doing the 9-5 thing before I was playing shows so I can’t even imagine
doing it while playing shows. Basically my life was work at 9, staring at a screen all day.
I was so focused on honing my songwriting and learning guitar that very little of my
life was dedicated to socializing. It was work, food, writing. I was getting to be really
lonely and I just didn’t have time to see my friends enough.
Zoon: I kept thinking that I don’t want something that I have to give all of my
emotional and physical strength to because I have to conserve myself for songwriting.
So I was always looking for low maintenance jobs, where there’s no high expectations.

Zoon, along with other participants, mentioned ‘perfect’ or ‘dream’ setups, where they
were able to secure consistent and flexible employment that would allow them to pursue
music full-time. Most participants jump(ed) from job to job, depending on their musical
pursuits. Cam from garage psych rock band Wine Lips shared a story that epitomises this
experience:

Cam H.: Because we toured so much, kind of whatever jobs you can get, and Steve’s
[Music store] surprisingly wasn’t flexible about giving me time off. I needed 2 weeks
off for my first tour and they basically called me into the office, and said you can go on
tour but you won’t have a job, or you can stay and keep your job. So obviously I went
on the tour, and they called me when I got home and asked if I had a new job yet. And
I didn’t so I started working there again. Maybe 6 months after that, we were going
on a tour that was like a month long and I wasn’t even gonna try. After that trip I was
doing the [food] courier stuff and you can do that on your own time.

These situations are practically ubiquitous among bands that are dedicated to developing
their musical ambitions into a sustainable career. I have met countless artists whose on-
going musical pursuits hinge upon whether or not they can sustain a day job that can pay
for their cost of living, allow them the flexibility to tour, rehearse, record, and manage
the project, all while leaving the musicians with enough energy to immerse themselves
in musical endeavours that they are drawn to create and share. This equation is tenuous
as is, let alone factoring in social and financial commitments like having children or
property ownership, which can exacerbate the psychological and social tolls of musical
lifestyles.

Composing Lives
What struck me most, while poring over the data, was the ingenuity, novelty, and, I would
argue, creative ways that these musicians continue to design their lives around the afore-
mentioned challenges. In an industry that is ruled by gatekeepers and opacity, the path that
one (or a group) sets out on to try and craft a meaningful life in the music scene is rife with
open-ended possibilities and improvised decisions.
168  Lloyd McArton
Nick:…there is no right answer in music, whereas there are right answers in a lot of
other careers.
Joey: For most careers, you go to a school of some sort, investing time and money
into credentials that would get you the interview and job that would immediately start
paying dividends. For music you have to put a lot of time and money into it in a pre-
paratory stage before those credentials really pay off.
Shawn: Early on, when I first tried to get my music out there and make a living from
it, it became clear how little I knew. For every musician, each one has their own way
to do things and I just kind of had to do things for myself and keep plugging away at it.

Facing the uncertainty of a career path that has no answers, each participant described
widely different mindsets, approaches, and analyses of their journeys. With hindsight, some
of the musicians with more established musical careers have indicated that it was a loose
plan with very little guidelines:

Brendan: In the 90s I think we were definitely like… I didn’t know that much, or once
again, just influenced by what’s going on around you a lot and you’re just regurgitating
ideas. Trying to get somewhere where you’re trying to do something original or trying
not to be in any way derivative.
Nick: Moving to Toronto happened for all of us before we were financially able to
do it. […] It was still sort of speculative to us, it was not a foregone conclusion that it
was going to work out. […] We were still trying to figure it out.
Knobs:…it’s been on my own, not in a professional space, trusting my instincts in
music.
Darren: It was also a leap of faith. It wasn’t as if we thought ‘oh we got a big pay-
cheque time to quit our jobs’…it was something that we all had been trying to achieve
as teenagers and young adults. Then we had this opportunity so we decided to quit it
all and just go for it. It didn’t happen based on any strategic planning. It happened based
on a lot of hard work, figuring it out. At least for us at that point, there was no playbook
on how to succeed in this music business.
Noah: …there was never an overarching strategy.
Zoon: I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I knew I wanted to do music so I had to
find a way to pay the bills.
Ruhee: It was just a fluke start. […] Everything I do is with people who are very
grassroots. I didn’t do that on purpose - it was an accident.
Phil: I’ve seen other bio[graphie]s where the artists knew from 9 years old that they
wanted to produce music. I never really felt that, I just wanted to be around music. It
feels like I took a convoluted and random path to where I am now.

Some of the younger and/or less-established musicians showed an equal lack of certainty
and understanding of the path that they are currently traversing:

Betty: I was kind of aimless in this artist project before, but I feel weird applying to
grants when I don’t know where I want to go. I don’t feel together enough to apply
to this or deserving enough because I feel like I’m fucking around. […] It’s less like a
ladder and more like beanstalks. A whole bean plant is just like… You’re just climbin
up and depending on which way you put the wire, that’s the way they’re gonna grow.
Freddy: After university when I decided to not pursue grad school for urban plan-
ning, I didn’t really know - still don’t know - if it’ll [music] be the be all and end all.
It’s a decision I made because I enjoyed doing it.
 Beyond ‘Careers’  169
Greg: We’ve built a bike as we’re riding it. We’re just so busy with the minutiae that
it’s easy to forget how much progress you’ve made. We’re still learning as we work
forward.

There is, then, an uncertainty that permeates a journey into the world of indie music –
where the scene and industry both seem to conspire to keep the ‘right answers’ from you, if
they even exist at all. One of my favourite analogies came from Betty, who suggested it is a
matter of ‘throw[ing] spaghetti at the wall and see what’s gonna work this time’.

Musical Careers
The mosaics of activities – creative, monotonous, or soul-depleting – comprising a musi-
cian’s existence have often been referred to as a ‘careers’. Although it was used throughout
several interviews, I prompted every musician to share a single word or definition to en-
capsulate their current state of or relationship to musical activities. I provided prompts such
as ‘career’, ‘profession’, ‘hobby’, ‘project’, and ‘leisure’, to name a few, but some participants
suggested ‘craft’, ‘vocation’, and ‘experiment’, among others, as most resonant to them. In
regard to ‘careers’, participants had much to say about their interpretation and understand-
ing of the word.
To some participants, the term ‘career’ represents a state of stability or achievement –
something to aspire to. Getting to a point where you can afford to dedicate most or all of
your time to musical activities, then, may also be a signifying factor in what constitutes a
career:

Phil: I would call it a career now because I’m on a path. It took me a while to figure
out what I was doing, and it’s gonna change, but for the most part I’ve figured out what
I’m doing.
Darren: It became a career when I was in my most recent band. I would probably say,
when I quit my day job to pursue music full-time it became a career.
Brendan: It’s turned into a career, and some days it keeps all the bills paid because
I’ve gone from being the bass player in a band to composer for TV or music supervision,
DJing as well.

The temporal disconnection between the senses of self that do and do not occupy states of
musical careers is evident for some participants. A career may be considered a state of being
in which one is dedicated to music full-time. The word ‘sustainable’, which appears in the
literature in regard to musical careers (Bennett, 2009, 2013, 2016) appeared several times
among participants. Sustainability as a defining factor of career was stated most explicitly
by Freddy, who noted that ‘[c]areer is the sustainable thing’. This point is corroborated by
this exchange between Cam and Aurora from Wine Lips:

Cam: Career… passtime. Obviously we’d like to be doing music as a career. I guess it
is sort of, but just the fact that it’s not paying the bills…
Aurora: A career would be a little more sustainable. So not quite yet.
Cam: Yeah, like more money, so it’s not quite a career. Or if it was, we’d really have
to slum it. *laughs*

Cam indicates that the amount of money one makes from their musical endeavours is a
defining factor. This appears as a sense of disconnection between musical identities and
financial sustainability for other participants as well.
170  Lloyd McArton
Quirks: We hesitate to look at it as a career because it isn’t something that keeps a roof
over our head and we all need to pursue different avenues of making that money.
Phil: It’s a career at this point. It’s where all my money comes from, all of it.

These two examples provide an interesting juxtaposition, as Quirks are referring to their
creative musical projects, whereas Phil is referring to his work as a producer and engineer.
Phil is able to work full-time in music because his job as an engineer covers his cost of
living, thus allowing him to immerse himself in the career. For Quirks, they rely on ‘day
jobs’ to support their musical ambitions. For Nick, however, having a musical ‘career’ was
dependent entirely on his self-perception as a musician, rather than the financial element:

Nick: ‘For me, getting to a point where I was calling myself a career musician depended
a lot on my perception of myself rather than whether I was able to support myself with
it’.

He went on to describe the earliest stages of what he eventually saw as a career:

Nick: ‘When we first started, it was definitely not a career, and I’m not sure I would call
it a profession, it was more an ambition, the object of my ambition. An experiment’.

For the participants featured here, the very notion of a ‘career’ in music seems to be cen-
tred around achieving a state of financial and musical sustainability, and as many have
noted above, this can also be something to hope for and aspire to. Freddy is also ‘trying to
do [­music] as a career’, and others have said as much without direct reference to the word
‘career’.
These sentiments were not shared by all participants, however. Danielle, in particular,
‘feel[s] a sense of imminent loss of joy with the word career’, though she did laugh immedi-
ately after this statement. Ariel, who echoes the link between career and financial income,
is also wary of music as a career:

Ariel: ‘I don’t see it as a career because I don’t get paid. It’s not a hobby either, it’s a
project. If you call it your career, you’re saying that this is your life. I’m not a m
­ usician -
I’m a person who plays music. My value is not linked to music, it’s linked to my rela-
tionships and my morals. If I call something my career, it takes attention away from
the things that are the most important thing. A career doesn’t keep you warm at night’.

This is a particularly stark contrast, given that Ariel’s creative musical project occupies as
much, if not more, time than most participants. She elaborates on her statement to expand
her train of thought:

Ariel: ‘Yeah I think of it as a job cause I’m trying to make something out of this. I don’t
enjoy shilling to Spotify. It feels fake. It’s the industry in which I’m a part of, and I need
to get the optics. I’m actively going against my principles to advance my career’.

Ariel’s view of the music industry, and the corporate sponsorship that is often required to
make big ‘splashes’, is clearly connected to her sense of musical identity. Throughout our con-
versations, she expressed many frustrating experiences regarding the perception of women,
gatekeeping, and the social demands to ‘play the game’ in order to thrive in the music scene
and industry. She associates these lived experiences with the notion of career. Yet, the ubiq-
uity of the term ‘career’ presents itself as she still refers to her ‘career’ in the latter passage.
 Beyond ‘Careers’  171
Discussion

Portfolio Careers
For most of the participants, the aforementioned lenses of portfolio, boundaryless, or pro-
tean careers are useful in understanding the webs of opportunities and pathways cultivated
by ‘career’ musicians and their relationships with metamusical creativity, but require further
consideration given emergent understandings. For instance, some musicians might view a
portfolio career in music as an unfavourable compromise, having to devote time away from
their musical passion to teach or work in administration. Many of the participants in this
research aspired to arrangements that could be described as portfolio or protean careers so
that they could spend more time in music, and less time working in other industries that
were deemed undesirable for a variety of reasons. Only three of the 24 participants inter-
viewed had portfolio careers that were based around financial income from creating music,
as distinguishable from the eight participants who worked creatively adjacent jobs from
which they derive all or the vast majority of their income, since they were not in a position
to depend on income generated from their original music (i.e. creative endeavours).
As generalized terms to describe multifarious musical means of living, portfolio or pro-
tean careers do not account for the difference in lifestyle between the musician who makes
no discernable income from their creative endeavours, working other jobs (musical or oth-
erwise) to support themselves, and the musician who does make income from their music,
but not enough to sustain themselves. The vast majority of existing research (Bennett,
2009, 2013, 2016; Burnard, 2012; Teague & Smith, 2015) concerning portfolio or protean
careers has featured musicians who had already arrived at some sense of financial stability
or sustainability in their lives. As an example, each of the three ‘originals bands’ musicians
featured in Burnard’s (2012) research is ‘beyond the entry level of careers in the music
business, and is highly motivated about playing regularly in “originals bands”…’ (p. 46).
Whether they own their own non-musical business, work as a music teacher in higher ed-
ucation, or occupy creative roles, the dominant narratives contained within existing litera-
ture on portfolio careers are more closely aligned with the participants of this present study
who are older or more established. Consider the comparison between (1) a self-­acclaimed
professional drummer who has attained a position as a university educator to more com-
fortably support their family financially, and (2) a multi-instrumentalist songwriter who
reluctantly jumps between work as a food courier, landscaper, retail associate, and any kind
of job that can help them pay their rent with enough time left over to create music on their
own terms. While on the surface, there are many similarities between these two hypothet-
ical livelihoods, one is significantly more precarious than the other; teaching is a popular
day job among portfolio musicians, and in many scenarios could be sufficient to support a
family. However, it is barely possible to make rent for a shared apartment in Toronto work-
ing part-time for minimum wage, let alone support a family.

Higher Education
There exists a strong correlation between extant considerations of portfolio careers and mu-
sic curricula in higher education. Bennett (2009, 2013) discusses ‘professional’ attributes for
prospective ‘career’ musicians in the context of higher music education, institutions whose
purpose she argues is to prepare students for ‘music careers’ (Bennett, 2013, p. 234). Many
participants that spoke with Teague and Smith (2015) suggested teaching as the day job of
choice for portfolio musicians; these jobs typically require postsecondary education. Teague
and Smith (2015) also focus on the potential for higher music education to help graduates
172  Lloyd McArton
prepare for their future ‘in a more holistic way’ (p. 177). Boyle (2020) shares a similar view
regarding instrumental music teachers:

Where possible, the culture of music education, including the higher education sector,
has a responsibility to prepare students as practical musicians who are able to commu-
nicate and adapt their skills in a range of professional contexts in order to ensure suc-
cessful and resilient careers in music.
(p. 100)

Although I do not disagree with these statements in principle, the reality is that not all
students can afford to attend higher education; this is especially true of music programmes
where auditions and other institutional gatekeeping prevent students’ entry based on a
lack of access to economic and social capital. If, as some authors have suggested, the uni-
versity’s role is to prepare students for sustainable careers in music, it is worth considering
how this approach may exacerbate existing discrepancies in access to musical learning to-
wards creative lifestyles. It is perhaps more judicious to look at the development of ‘career
creativities’ – or, as I would suggest, metamusical creativities – at earlier stages of musicians’
lives. By their very nature, secondary schools are the most appropriate settings for the
creative development of thinking deeply about possible musical futures and becoming
‘expert selves’.

Metamusical Creativities
There is great promise in the notion of ‘career creativities’, but I contend that the term ‘ca-
reer’ does not account for the full breadth of musical pathways being traversed by musicians
around the globe. Despite each participant in this research being or having been involved in
highly time-consuming creative musical projects, many did not consider ‘career’ to be the
appropriate label or descriptor for what they do – some actively rejected it. If we are bent
on theorizing their musical endeavours, some more closely resemble ‘serious leisure’ rather
than ‘career’ or ‘profession’. Several musicians noted that participating in the music industry
may not always be a central part of their life, nor do they want it to be; it can certainly be an
unforgiving pursuit, and was noted to have mild to severe impacts on mental and physical
well-being.
Regardless of the term used to describe one’s aggregate musical activities, the ever-­
evolving structure of their lives, imaginations of future trajectories, and reflections of past
experiences are all part of a process no less creative than composing a piece of music or
writing a song. Following Bolden’s (2014) description, creativity involves: ‘seeking and
forging connections; synthesizing; finding and solving problems; experimenting and ex-
ploring; taking risks; analyzing context; being subversive; taking time away; editing and
refining; and so on’ (p. 2). Every one of these facets was described by the participants, not
only in reference to their overtly musical activity, but also indirectly within the stories of
how they catered virtually every facet of their jobs, social lives, and/or education around
the pursuit of music, a delicate dance of composing their lives. Words and phrases such
as ‘uncertainty’, ­‘surprise’, ‘imagine’, ‘random’, ‘feeling’, ‘exploration’, ‘freedom’, ‘specula-
tive’, ‘instinct’, ‘luck’, ­‘f*cking around’, ‘leap of faith’, ‘figure it out’, among others, were
mentioned in some form or another by all participants. Metamusical creativity encompasses
the novel and individually meaningful experiences, sentiments, processes, and choices that
form the composition of a unique musical lifestyle, livelihood, or even ‘career’ where music
plays a meaningful and significant role.
 Beyond ‘Careers’  173
Epilogue: Implications of metamusical creativity for Music Education
Creative involvement in music is essential to these musicians, with every participant noting
its necessity or omnipresence in their lives; for all, it is a source of deep personal satisfaction
(Randles & Smith, 2012). That they are trudging through an open-ended industry with no
real ‘answers’ or pathways to carve out complicated lives speaks to the meaning that music
holds for them. The purpose of facilitating and teaching creativity ought not to be done in
a strictly musical sense, nor with the implication that all ‘students’ will, can, or should pur-
sue musical endeavours full-time. The value of creativity cannot be reduced to providing a
small section of the world with ‘outstanding instances of creative achievement’ (Csikszent-
mihalyi, 2015, p. 2) in the form of another great performance, another great album to listen
to, or even another inspirational career fully dedicated to music, but rather to empower
musicians to creatively design lives for themselves that are musically fulfilling – whatever
that might mean for them. In an effort to build upon other authors who have sought to de-
mystify the social, psychological, and musical components and variables that make up what
we might call musically creative activities, as well as career creativities, this chapter seeks to
shift the discourse surrounding creativity in music education towards one of many modes
and means of drawing fulfilment from the infinite spheres of music-making.
Many of the participants from this research and countless other musicians who belong to
marginalized communities face additional obstacles to developing and sustaining creative
lives. Issues rooted in gentrification, socioeconomic stratification, social barriers, racism,
sexism, homophobia, and transphobia can drastically inhibit musicians’ experiences and
choices, exacerbating many of the challenges discussed here. As a response to incomplete
and tendentious conceptions of creativities central to authoring musical lives, I invite the
consideration of an outlook on creative development wherein the priority is placed on
supporting students’ individual initiatives, interests, ambitions, and honouring non-musical
commitments or obligations; this shift may improve students’ latitude to develop metamu-
sical creativities – skills and approaches that will enable them to find eudaimonia (Smith,
2017; Smith & Silverman, 2020) as creative musicians in any future that they imagine for
themselves, whether music is at the centre or at the periphery. Only after we can better un-
derstand how our understandings of creativities in music education translate to the quality
of musicians’ lives, can we then talk openly and honestly about the quality of their music.

Questions for Consideration

1 How do our practices as music educators build capacities for both musical creativities
and metamusical creativities?
2 What types of skills and perceptions regarding the authoring of musical pathways are
we reinforcing in our teaching/facilitation?
3 What are the barriers that affect musicians’ outlooks and competencies to pursue musi-
cal activities as they move between stages of their lives?
4 How do we build and maintain institutions of education (primary, secondary, and
tertiary) that encourage students to find time to author individually meaningful crea-
tivities in music, and to become ‘expert selves’ so that they can be metamusically creative
in the ways that they make time and space for music in their lives?

Note
1 ‘Indie’ stands for ‘independent’, and represents an evolving genre of music that was originally based
on the principles and aesthetics surrounding a ‘do-it-yourself ’ mentality to art, diverging from
174  Lloyd McArton
mainstream mass media. Musically, it tends to lean towards pop, rock, and R&B adjacent genres of
music, but not always. The genre has promise in essence, but is both paradoxical and problematic in
reality. For further context on indie music and its potential connections to music education, refer to
McArton and Niknafs (2019).

References
Bennett, D. E. (2009). Academy and the real world: Developing realistic notions of career in the perform-
ing arts. Arts and Humanities in Higher Education, 8(3): 309–327.
Bennett, D. E. (2013). The role of career creativities in developing identity and becoming expert selves.
In P. Burnard (Ed.), Developing creativities in higher music education (pp. 262–272). Routledge.
Bennett, D. E. (2016). Understanding the classical music profession : The past, the present and strategies for the
future. Routledge.
Bolden, B. (2014). The dearth of creativity in music education: Time to shift. (the prelude editorial).
Canadian Music Educator, 55(3): 2–3.
Boyle, K. (2020). The instrumental music teacher: Autonomy, identity and the portfolio career in music. New York:
Routledge.
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical creativities in practice. Oxford University Press.
Burnard, P., & Stahl, G. (2021). Mobilising capitals in the creative industries. An investigation of emo-
tional and professional capital in women creatives navigating boundaryless careers. In R. Wright &
G. Johansen (Eds.), The Routledge handbook of the sociology of music education. London: Routledge.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Creativity: Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. New York: Harper
Perennial.
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Springer Netherlands.
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McArton, L., & Niknafs, N. (2019). ‘Something for All of Us’: Indie ethics in popular music education.
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Randles, C., & Smith, G. D. (2012). A first comparison of pre-service music teachers’ identities as creative
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als. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing.
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the future (pp. 197–214). Routledge.
Smith, G. D. (2017). (Un)popular music making and eudaimonism. In The Oxford handbook of music making
and leisure (1st ed.). Oxford University Press.
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into implications for higher music education. British Journal of Music Education, 32(2): 177–193.
15 Teaching and Learning Creativity
as Content
A Tool-Dependent Process
Niklas Rudbäck and Cecilia Wallerstedt

Introduction
Our principal message in this chapter will be to question two related dichotomies: The
one between creative and reproductive music-making, and the one between divergent and
convergent learning in the arts. We do this by drawing on the continental European and
Nordic subject matter didaktik-tradition, and by highlighting the need to take the learner’s
perspective on the object of learning into account. While the development of students’
musical creativites may be a core curricular aim, this aim will be operationalized in music
lessons as a diverse set of objects of learning, focusing on traditions, tools, techniques, strat-
egies, and practices. It is these objects of learning that teachers enact and learners encounter,
rather than creativities as an abstraction.
We will therefore consider questions concerning curriculum in relation to pedagogy.
The distinction between curriculum and pedagogy may appear more natural in English-­
speaking educational discourse than in German- and Nordic-language educational dis-
course. In the latter, the concept of subject matter didaktik remains influential. In English
the cognate term “didactic” has come to refer to a style of teaching, while in German,
Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish, didaktik(k) refers to the art and science of teaching. In
particular, the concept of subject-matter didaktik (German: fachdidaktik, Swedish: ämnes-
didaktik) concerns the relationship between curriculum (e.g. content and progression) and
pedagogy (e.g. how teaching and learning is organized, cf. Nielsen, 2007). In other words,
a fundamental point in subject-matter didaktik is that the selection of content and methods
cannot be considered separately from how the teacher relates to the content, how the stu-
dents relate to the content, and how the teacher and students relate to each other.
An experience from a research study can help us delineate our interest. Three girls (about
eight years old) taking part in a research project on music and digital technology were in-
troduced to the task they were supposed to carry out that day. They were living in a suburb
outside a large city in Sweden, and were pupils in an ElSistema program. On this occasion,
the teacher told them that they would be given the chance to create their own music. It
meant, to the teacher, that they would use the music technology that was examined in the
research project, to create music pieces in ABA form. That was the plan. But the girls re-
sponded enthusiastically, “oh, then we will do Nicki Minaj”. Nicki Minaj was at this time
a popular artist, played at radio stations and visible on YouTube and likewise. For the girls,
singing Minaj’s music meant a kind of ownership, and when given the opportunity to create
“their own” music, they wanted to re-create what they already knew, that they had chosen
by themselves.
Is it necessarily more creative to use a concept such as ABA form than to copy the style
of one’s favorite artist? We can interpret the girls’ reaction as “thinking outside the box”,
but it is also possible that they are thinking inside a different box. As teachers, we need to

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-18
176  Niklas Rudbäck and Cecilia Wallerstedt
understand what is in the box, so to speak, in order to help facilitate the students’ learning.
This leads us to our overarching question of this chapter: What does it mean to be creative,
to teach creativity, and how might creative processes mean different things from different
points of view?

The Swedish Context

Since the late 1970s, music education in Sweden has been highly influenced by informal
practices (Folkestad, 2006; Georgii-Hemming & Westvall, 2010; Stålhammar, 2000). The
rock band is established as both a musical and pedagogical ideal (Lindgren & Ericsson,
2010). The teacher’s main task in this tradition is to stand back, let the students play their
own music, provide encouragement and equipment. The teacher becomes a fixer tasked
with making sure the students are not demotivated by less-than-optimal results, rather than
someone who provides instruction. Sweden’s early adoption, in international comparison,
of these music-educational ideals has afforded music education researchers the opportu-
nity to highlight some of their problematic by-products (e.g. Lindgren & Ericsson, 2010;
Wallerstedt & Lindgren, 2016).
For example, one problem that has been revealed is that students are left with musical
problems they cannot solve on their own, and these problems can often be of somewhat
basic character, like how to start playing together in an ensemble with timing. The teacher
is sometimes shown to avoid introducing and using formal musical concepts in order to
maintain an informal teaching approach. For example, instead of explicitly mentioning the
time signature and explaining how to count off, the teacher just let the students try on their
own (Wallerstedt, 2019; Wallerstedt & Pramling, 2016). In this way, the object of learning
may be hidden, not only to the students but also to the teachers themselves. What it means
to be skilled or creative in an ensemble, for example, is not differentiated in concrete terms,
and this makes it hard to elaborate on how teachers could help students to learn, and, not
the least, what to learn.
In music education in the English-speaking world, the work of Webster (e.g. 2002) has
been influential in conceiving of musical creativity in terms of convergent and divergent
thinking. In the Swedish context, this distinction has become highly influential in teacher
education in the arts, not through the work of Webster, but due to a study by Lindström
(2012). Lindström is somewhat unclear about the origins of this distinction. Like Webster,
he credits it to early work by Guilford, and also seems to be drawing on later work focusing
on visual arts, but he does not refer to Webster. In what follows, we want to be clear that
we are mainly engaging with the distinction between convergent and divergent thinking as
it appears in Lindström’s work, although some of our critiques may be relevant to Webster’s
use of the terms as well. We also suggest that our critique be read together with the cri-
tique of Webster’s model from an ecological and enactive perspective provided by Rinsema
(Chapter 4).
Lindström’s definition is as follows:

The strategy is convergent if the goal is to achieve something that is given in advance; it
is divergent if the goal is rather to combine what you know for new purposes. The first
kind of learning refers to the mastery of basic skills, including a domain specific vocab-
ulary, while the second is associated with creativity.
(Lindström, 2012, p. 168, original emphasis)

As can be seen in the quote, there is a vagueness in Lindström’s application of terminology.

At first, strategies are classified as convergent or divergent depending on the nature of their
 Teaching and Learning Creativity as Content  177
goals, then there is a shift to the terms referring to different kinds of learning. In this, Lind-
ström’s use of these terms differs from Webster’s (2002), who tends to write about conver-
gent and divergent thinking. Another difference between Lindström’s (2012) and Webster’s
(2002) understanding of this distinction is that Lindström considers only divergent strate-
gies/learning to be associated with creativity, while Webster states that “[c]reative thinking
involves both [i.e. convergent and divergent] kinds of thinking many times and in many
different ways” (Webster, 2002, p. 32, note 3). Hence, to Lindström (2012), the distinction
between divergent and convergent is a distinction between creative and reproductive. We
will question this dichotomy of convergent and divergent learning as it applies to teaching
and learning creativity (i.e. the identification of divergent and creative, convergent and re-
productive) by illustrating the need of taking the learner’s perspective into account.

Creativity as a Tool-Dependent Process

Creativity, musical creativity, and how to handle creativity in music education are con-
tested topics. Glăveanu (2010) identifies three paradigmatic conceptions of creativity that
have shaped and continue to shape psychological research on the topic: The He-, I-, and
We-paradigms. The He-paradigm positions creativity as the purview of a select few, lone
(male) geniuses, who are defined by their ability to break new ground. Set apart from the
masses and unmoored by the conventions of their time, they “need nothing to tie them up
to the world of others or existing knowledge” (Glăveanu, 2010, p. 81). In the field of mu-
sic, the He-paradigm can be exemplified by what Burnard (2012) calls “the mythology of
‘musical creativity’ based on the idolization of the Great Composers and their masterworks”
(2012, p. 26). The myth of the Great Composers is in turn closely tied to the conception
of the childhood prodigy, which has implications for the ambitions of musical education.
Although the Great Composers in Western Art Music may be the paradigmatic example,
similar canonizing and mythologizing processes can be found in many musical genres (Bur-
nard, 2012).
The He-paradigm as sketched above is important as something that later conceptions of
creativity define themselves against. The I-paradigm defines itself against the He-paradigm
in that it posits that everyone can be creative, but keeps the He-paradigm’s individualistic
unit of analysis. The We-paradigm positions itself against both the exclusivist assumptions
of the He-paradigm, and the tendency to attribute creativity to the traits and dispositions
of individuals that the He- and I-paradigm share. Instead, the We-paradigm points to the
importance of social context, interaction, and collaboration for creativity (Gl ăveanu, 2010).
Together, these paradigmatic shifts in creativity research add up to a destabilization of the
He-paradigm’s assumptions about the who, where, and what of creativities. This becomes
evident in Burnard’s (2012, Appendix D) list of ten central myths about children’s music
creativities. This list illustrates an expansion of who can be viewed as creative that Glăveanu
(2010) does not explicitly mention, namely the (non-prodigy) child. With this comes a
concurrent appreciation of what children create, as well as where children create, the social
contexts and practices where children engage in creative activities. It is highlighted that
children’s musical creations and creative processes are not simply unfinished versions of
adults’ creations and creative processes, but that they have a logic of their own.
However, the conception of the creatively competent child also carries potential prob-
lems. If the He-paradigm’s assumption that creativity is about breaking new ground and
being unmoored by conventions sneaks back into our conception of creativity, children are
prone to being viewed as competent creators because of their relative lack of socialization.
This encourages a non-interventionist style of teaching because further socialization would
risk destroying that which makes children creative.
178  Niklas Rudbäck and Cecilia Wallerstedt
This problem can be illustrated by influential conceptions of children and creativity in
the visual arts pedagogy. Late 19th and early 20th century visual art pedagogues such as
Marion Richardson in Britain and Franz Cizek in Austria discouraged teaching manual
skills, techniques such as perspective, and especially, copying. According to Willats (2005),
this was based on a comparison between children’s drawings and the style of the (then)
avant-garde in visual arts, from which it was concluded that children’s “natural creativity”
(p. 224) risked corruption by educational intervention. Cohn (2014) argues that these ideas
are still influential in visual arts education in the West. Furthermore, it is possible to show
that the development of visual art skills tends to stagnate earlier in cultures where the taboo
against copying is upheld (e.g. Europe and the US) than in cultures where it has never held
sway (e.g. Japan). Cohn theorizes that children acquire the graphic schemas of their visual
cultures through copying the images that are prevalent in that culture. The lack of the nec-
essary graphic schemata is what explains that people can see, and use visual imagination,
without necessarily being able to translate this into a drawing (Cohn, 2012, 2014).
Music education in the master-apprentice tradition has retained a relatively strong focus
on imitation of a master’s model (see e.g. Molander, 1996, for an example drawn from
the teaching of Pablo Casals), and counter-reactions to this tradition are to be expected.
When the conception of the student as inherently capable of authentic artistic expression is
combined with the (in itself laudable) impulse to broaden the scope of music education by
including genres that have tended to be excluded, especially the students’ own music, some
problematic contradictions appear.
For example, Stewart Rose and Countryman (2013) critique the prominent role of ele-
ments of music in music curricula, arguing that we should instead focus on students’ own
elements. In the course of their critique, however, the authors concede that concepts such as
elements of music can be useful. But since they assume that elements developed more or less
informally through the students’ own musical experiences are inherently better, truer or
more authentic, they end up stating that traditional elements of music should only be taught
to people who already know them. This is a strange view of curricular goals, which seems
to be predicated on a conflation of content and method. When deciding what concepts to
teach, we should take into account what we intend for our students to do with them, and
regardless of what concepts we teach, we will have to take students’ previous conceptions
(their own elements) into account.
What is commendable in Stewart Rose and Countryman’s analysis is that they highlight
that something akin to elements of music exists in many different musical traditions. This
means that we may teach several different kinds of elements of music depending on what
music we are focusing on. However, the notion of teaching (or affirming) the students’ own
elements is problematic. Any musical tradition will have music-cultural tools that have been
invented, tried and tested throughout its cultural-historical development (Hultberg, 2009).
Teaching these tools is an important part of music education; having to let every student
reinvent them defeats its own purpose.
In this chapter, we will argue the case that creativity is a tool-dependent process. Vygot-
sky’s Imagination and Creativity in Childhood forms a good starting point for that argument:

[T]he creative activity of the imagination depends directly in the richness and variety
of a person’s previous experience because this experience provides the material from
which the products of fantasy are constructed. The richer a person’s experience, the
richer is the material his [sic!] imagination has access to. This is why a child has a less
rich imagination than an adult, because his [sic!] experience has not been as rich.
(Vygotsky, 2004, pp. 14–15)
 Teaching and Learning Creativity as Content  179
This conception of creativity is in turn related to Vygotsky’s understanding of sociali-
zation as that which allows us to master our own activity, to plan and act with inten-
tion ­( Vygotsky, 1997, 2012). We could ask: What kind of creativity is worth wanting? A
wholly unrestrained creativity would be dependent on nothing but trial and error. Creativ-
ity that depends on previous experience, that is mastered by means of psychological tools,
­problem-solving strategies, etc., is, on this view, freer due to our greater ability to achieve
what we want to achieve.
In contrast with an understanding of creativity as essentially unrestrained by any priors,
this view highlights how fostering creative engagement with and within music is a ques-
tion of increasing one’s repertoire of ways of framing and solving musical problems. This
view is related to Bamberger’s (2006) point that musical development can be construed not
as the replacement of one way of hearing by another, but as increasing one’s repertoire of
possible hearings. The main difference between our view and Bamberger’s is that we, with
Vygotsky (1997, 2012), stress the importance of psychological tools in mastering the ability
to consciously choose a manner of hearing suited to the problem at hand.
Glăveanu’s (2010) attempt to further develop the We-paradigm into a cultural psychol-
ogy of creativity builds on the Vygotskian tradition. Unlike the He- and I-paradigms, with
their focus on personal traits, the We-paradigm embeds creativity in a cultural-historical
context, and posits that acts of creation build on existing systems of symbols, i.e. psycho-
logical tools. A cultural psychology of creativity would, according to Gl ăveanu (2010), go
beyond an external influence model of creativity by focusing on how the social and cultural
are “working from within the creative person and process” (p. 84, original emphasis). This
opens up the option to consider how to influence creative behavior. That is, based on an
understanding of creativity as a tool-dependent process, we can start to consider a didaktik
of creativity. We can ask ourselves what tools and ways of operating with the tools at hand
that constrain and make possible our students’ creative practices, what tools we need to
introduce to further their creative development, and how to introduce those tools based on
the tools the students have at hand.

The Data
The empirical work we will draw on here is from one of the authors’ PhD thesis (Rudbäck,
2020). In particular we will use data from the interviews performed with students, individ-
ually, in the first year of an upper secondary music program. As part of those interviews,
there was a musical activity where the students were asked to compose a melody and set
chords to it, with the help of the interviewer where necessary. The character of the melody
was suggested to be like a simple children’s song, and the participants could choose to com-
pose the melody from scratch or to use one of several prepared beginnings provided by the
interviewer. The interviews happened with the instrument in hand, so to speak.
We are going to look at three examples from such interviews, the first one with a pianist
(Case 1), the second with a guitarist (Case 2), and the third with a singer/pianist (Case 3).
A fuller analysis of Cases 1 and 2 may be found in the above-mentioned PhD thesis, while
Case 3 has been added for the purposes of this chapter. In one of these cases (Case 1), the
participant elected to start from a prepared beginning, while the other two did not. In all
three cases, the melody was finalized before the participants started setting chords to it (this
was, however, not the case in all interviews).
The musical parts of the interviews were transcribed with an adapted form of music no-
tation, and it is these transcriptions that form the basis of our analyses.
We are putting two questions to this material:
180  Niklas Rudbäck and Cecilia Wallerstedt
• What strategies for setting chords to a melody can be identified?
• What are the logics of these strategies?

These analyses should not be taken as proving our points as laid out above. Rather they
should be viewed as illustrative of those points and as facilitating further discussion.

Three Cases of Creative Musical Problem-Solving

In the first case, we are looking at the process of arriving at the final cadence of the piece.
Observing the finished product, both the melody and the harmonic progression (I–IV–
V–I) are fairly conventional. In the course of the composing process, the participant rather
quickly hit upon the first I-chord, as well as the two final chords (V–I), but had more trou-
ble deciding on the predominant chord. In the course of arriving at the solution of playing
an F-major chord at this point, the participant tested several chords, many of them several
times. These chords and the order in which they were tested (from top to bottom) can be
seen in Figure 15.1. Already at this point, it is worth noting that most of the tested chords
are congruent with the key of C-major, and that the ones that are not could be construed
as belonging to a closely related key (G-major).

Figure 15.1  Case examples.

 Teaching and Learning Creativity as Content  181
The second case also arrives at a relatively conventional finished product. As in the pre-
vious example, we are zooming in on the process of arriving at a I–IV–V–I progression (al-
though this is not the final cadence of the piece). In this case, however, the participant had
quickly established the start of the chord progression (I–IV) and the final I-chord, but was
having trouble finding a satisfying chord in the penultimate position. As Figure 15.1 shows,
while the end product is quite conventional, the process of arriving there is not as easy to
make sense of in conventional music-theoretical terms. Only the B°7 could be construed
as belonging to C-major (if viewed as a rootless G7–9), and the Bm could be part of the
closely related key of G-major.
In the third case, the process of setting chords to the melody was much faster, since
the participant did not experiment with as many different chords in each chord change.
Therefore, it is necessary to analyze the whole composition in order to form a hypothesis
about the strategy the participant uses to select the chords. The melody is less conventional
than the two previous examples, in that the first phrase could be heard as e-minor, while
the last phrase strongly establishes a G-major tonality. The chord progression the partici-
pant ends up with is also less tonally conventional than in the two previous cases, with no
­predominant–dominant–tonic progressions.
How can we make sense of these different solutions to a musical problem? In Case 1, the
participant explains her process after the fact in terms of the circle of fifths. She claims to
have chosen between “picking” C or G as the tonic, and that given a tonic, she can “cir-
cle” a group of six chords in the circle of fifths (e.g. F, Dm, C, Am, G, Em if she picks C
as her tonic), and then test those chords (for a more extended analysis, see Rudbäck, 2020,
pp. 259 ff ). While this kind of retrospective evidence is problematic on its own (Säljö,
1997; Wagoner, 2009), this explanation is congruent with the chords the participant tries
out. As mentioned above, only one chord (D) lies outside C-major, and that chord can be
seen as part of G-major. Additionally, this participant shows great skill in using different
mnemonic techniques to recall and operate with the circle of fifths in a later interview (see
Rudbäck, 2020, pp. 194 ff ), which makes this interpretation more plausible. Although it
is impossible to show that the participant uses specifically the circle of fifths, it seems to us
that her strategy is mediated by some conceptualization of how chords go together in keys.
She is, in a sense, thinking inside the box of conventional tonality.
This becomes more evident on comparison with Cases 2 and 3, where this explanation
does not seem to work. In Case 2, the participant goes about solving his similar problem
in a different way. On the first playthrough, he plays the I- and IV-chords, as well as the
final I-chord. But in the position where he eventually ends up playing the V-chord he stops
playing and says “oh no, I know!” (for a fuller analysis, see Rudbäck, 2020, pp. 225 ff ).
Playing through the same four bars again, he stops playing at the same point and instead
whistles a (somewhat flat) b, which he then imitates on his guitar (A-string, second fret). He
thus transduces what he claims to “know” into sound, and then into a grip on the guitar
fretboard.
To this participant, who is a guitarist, the fretboard is not simply where you place your
fingers when playing, but also a semiotic interface between the sounding instrument and a
set of music-theoretical concepts such as note names, chords, and scales. By locating this b
on the fretboard, he can bring a new set of semiotic tools to bear on the problem. Looking
at the chords that this participant tries out in the penultimate position of the cadence, it
becomes obvious that all except the last one are called B-something. What is not shown
in Figure 15.1 is that he plays all of them with the b on the second fret of the A-string as
bass note. The strategy here does not seem to be mediated by some representation of which
chords go together in a key, but rather by the affordances of the fretboard, and/or the note
name “b” and knowledge of chords called B-something or other. The participant in Case
182  Niklas Rudbäck and Cecilia Wallerstedt
2 may be thinking outside the conventional tonality box of Case 1, but his choices are con-
strained and made possible by another box.
In Case 3, the participant’s selection of chords to try out follows yet another logic. The
roots of all the chords fit comfortably in the keys of e-minor and G-major, but other chord
tones are outside the key. This happens when the participant selects the parallel major chord
of a chord that would be minor in the key. In fact, looking at Figure 15.1, we can see that
the participant always tries a major chord first. The minor chords in the final composition
are the result of scaffolding questions from the interviewer (e.g. “do you want E-major or
E-minor there?”). The reason that the roots of the chords fit in the key(s) is also the reason
why the chord progression is less conventional than in Cases 1 and 2: Whenever the partic-
ipant wants to change chords, she first tries the (major) chord that has the same root as the
current melody note. This strategy results in a less conventional chord progression due to
the constraint of following the melody. As in Case 2, the participant in Case 3 is thinking
outside the conventional box, but her choices are still constrained and made possible by a
different box.

Discussion
To sum up, and return to our initial interest: Are the students in Cases 2 and 3 being more
creative and less reproductive than the student in Case 1? Since the end result (Case 3) or the
way to the end result (Cases 2 and 3) appears more unconventional, are the problem-solving
strategies used by the students in Cases 2 and 3 more divergent or creative? No, we would
argue. We see (in line with Vygotsky) that students recruit the tools they already have ac-
cess to into their strategies. Strategies are both introduced in formal educational settings (as
exemplified in Case 1) and invented ad hoc (as in Cases 2 and 3). We argue that all three
students’ problem-solving is facilitated by and restricted by strategies, from their point of
view. Student’s “own” strategies are not necessarily more creative or restrictive; they may
be just as restrictive or as conducive to creativity as a taught strategy. The students in Cases
2 and 3 appear to be thinking outside the box only because it is unknown to us (as analysts
or as teachers) what the box is.
Note that this does not only apply to conventional Western music theoretical concepts.
Any musical tradition comes with its own set of culturally and historically developed,
tried and tested tools and strategies. Increasing familiarity with such tools and strategies is
an important part of going from peripheral to central participation in musical communi-
ties of practice. The teacher is important as the one who introduces new tools to scaffold
the students’ creative processes, tools that the student may in time appropriate and deploy
independently. By doing so, teachers can widen the students’ repertoire of possible strate-
gies, allowing students to exercise conscious control over their creative processes—both in
defining the problem to be solved and deciding on how to go about solving it. One of our
primary claims here is that such control is dependent on having boxes to think inside of.
This means that teaching creativity (if there is such a thing) is about offering a wider array
of boxes, rather than dismantling the boxes our students already have or never building any
boxes in the first place.
This point is central when we consider how to integrate a wider gamut of musics, and
especially educational practices modeled on so-called informal learning in music curricula.
Institutionalizing an informal practice will always lead to formalization. The very act of
recontextualizing a knowledge-producing practice from the context in which it has devel-
oped, and where the knowledge is put into practice, to a school context which is removed
from this authentic setting, requires formalization (Bernstein, 1996)—institutionalization
is formalization. When we try to resist this formalization, we just end up institutionalizing
 Teaching and Learning Creativity as Content  183
a form of non-interventionist teaching that defeats the purpose of institutionalization.
Thereby, we are missing the opportunity to widen the scope of music education by insti-
tutionalizing a diverse set of genres and musical practices as content of music teaching and
learning.
What does this imply regarding the distinctions between convergent and divergent think-
ing (Webster, 2002), strategies, learning, and goals (Lindström, 2012) as it relates to crea-
tivities in the curriculum? We wish to highlight two main points: Perspective matters and
the importance of perspective implies that what it is that is classified as being convergent or
divergent (thinking, strategies, goals, learning) has consequences for the distinction’s utility
in reasoning about curricula. Perspective matters in that what appears divergent from the
point of view of the teacher is not necessarily so from the point of view of the student, and
vice versa. Hence, the convergence or divergence of learning and thinking cannot be eval-
uated without taking the learner’s or thinker’s perspective into account.
In the case of learning, this means that convergent learning becomes an oxymoron.
Almost by definition, what is learned diverges from what is already known. A distinction
between convergent and divergent learning is therefore of little utility, in creating curricula
or otherwise. In the case of thinking, this means that convergent or divergent thinking are
difficult to assess and therefore difficult to plan for. Curricula are plans for teaching and
learning (cf. German Lehrplan or Swedish läroplan, literally “learning plan”). In formulating
such plans, we may be able to leave headroom for divergent thinking, rather than make
sure it happens.
While Lindström’s (2012) distinction between convergent and divergent learning is
problematic, his distinction between convergent and divergent strategies based on their
goals is less so. In particular, the goals, aims, or end results of an assignment, task, or class-
room activity can be thought of as convergent or divergent from the teacher’s perspective.
Some activities will have goals that the teacher can specify beforehand while others will
have goals that cannot be so specified. In most cases, an activity will have some goals of the
former kind and some of the latter. The example in the introduction, about composing in
ABA form, contained both convergent (ABA form) and divergent (what musical material
that form is made sense of with) goals. Similarly, the task of composing a melody and setting
chords to it contains both convergent (create a melody, set chords to it) and divergent (how
is the melody constructed? What chords do we set to it?) goals. In building a curriculum, a
plan for teaching and learning creativity, this distinction has some utility. Arguably, think-
ing about the balance between convergent and divergent goals as well as the progression
between them is one way of creating headroom for our students’ divergent thinking.

Questions for Consideration

1 How can we access our students’ creative strategies?
2 How can we help our students expand their repertoire of creative strategies?
3 If institutionalization implies formalization, how can we institutionalize infor-
mal musical practices without running into issues of misrepresentation and cultural
appropriation?
4 When teaching creativity in music-making is viewed in this manner, who can be a
teacher?

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16 Music Educators’ Perspectives on
Songwriting
Lauren Ryals

Review of Literature
Songwriting as a therapeutic experience is a common intervention among music therapists
to address concerns with quality of life (Groke, 2009) and coping skills (Silverman, 2011).
Chosen themes and styles can act as a window into the songwriter’s soul. These themes
can shed light on situations that might otherwise go unnoticed. Music teachers can apply
music therapy techniques when instructing songwriting in their classrooms. Burton (2012)
called songs “omnipresent” for their extensive use in celebrations, holidays, and religious
or political events (p. 198). Songs can be translators for mood and feelings, a foundation for
reference when referred to by their omnipresent relation. Songs and songwriting “can be
important tools for developing an understanding of ourselves, of others, and of the cultural
context of the world” (Burton, 2012, p. 198). Expanding learning in the music classroom,
songwriting experiences have been found to provide students with opportunities to reflect,
apply, and learn from their culture in meaningful ways. By studying and writing lyrics, re-
searchers have documented people have found hope in recovery, illness, and disadvantaged
situations. Songwriting provides an outlet for problem-solving, self-discovery, and creative
expression (Riley, 2012). Additionally, songwriting may provide a space where students can
grow, process emotions, and share feelings in a positive way.
As an intervention, songwriting has been used in the field of music therapy to support
people managing personal crises as well as self-expression. Through a therapeutic lens,
music teachers have a unique opportunity to support mental well-being and enrich crea-
tivity through culturally responsive teaching with songwriting. Music educators can apply
music therapists’ findings when implementing songwriting in their classroom through cul-
turally responsive teaching. Gay (2010) suggests teachers who demonstrate value in their
students’ lived experiences and interests provide culturally responsive teaching through
their curriculum. Hess (2018) reminds us teachers can demonstrate care by providing
opportunities for students to engage in songwriting. Student-centered education often
challenges students to counter negative social discourse, explore their artistic creativity,
and support emotional well-being (Hess, 2018). Much like culturally responsive teaching,
informal music learning positions the students at the center of learning and the teacher as
a facilitator (Green, 1988). Informal music learning has become more prevalent to address
and connect students’ needs and desires through music in a way that is meaningful and
student centered. By providing opportunities for songwriting in their classrooms, music
educators can provide students with a way to join informal music learning with culturally
responsive teaching.
Teachers can support their students’ creative risks-taking through arts-based practices,
encouraging exploration of their feelings through creative writing (Cantor, 2006). Con-
sidering McNiff’s (1998) proposition that there is nothing more empirical than art, the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-19
186  Lauren Ryals
songwriting practice is flexible and malleable – ever-changing as the students grow and
change in life. By incorporating arts-based activities which include group bonding, team
building, visual art creation, journaling, discussion, and listening, teachers can transform
the songwriting environment into a positive music-making atmosphere (Cantor, 2006). By
creating an inclusive environment, songwriting has also been found to be an entry point
for all students with diverse or limited musical backgrounds to participate in their school
music program. Reimer (2003) challenges traditional large ensemble involvement and con-
siders how other musical experiences can serve the needs of a broader school population.
Similar to Reimer’s perspective, Kratus (2007) suggests society has changed how people
connect and engage with music; music education should therefore more widely reflect these
changes. Alongside Reimer (2003), and Kratus (2007), researcher Tobias (2012) suggests
music teachers expand their perspective on music education to include all students in the
various ways they interact with music.
Research in culturally responsive and informal music-making experiences, such as song-
writing, provides rich insight to the benefits and perspectives for and of students. The pur-
pose of this intrinsic case study is to explore music teachers’ perspectives and experiences
teaching songwriting in their PreK-12 classrooms. Much of the songwriting literature and
research is presented through the student songwriting participant lens. This study seeks to
gain perspective from the music teacher. Research questions include the following: (1) how
do teachers describe their songwriting instruction? (2) How do the teacher participants
perceive their role in their classrooms? (3) How do students interact and develop songs? (4)
What have teachers learned about themselves, music teaching, and learning through the
songwriting instruction process?

Methodology
This study utilized a descriptive, intrinsic case study design where the case explores
teachers’ perspectives and experiences teaching songwriting in their PreK-12 classrooms
(Saldaña, 2015). I had an intrinsic interest in this study because of my teaching experience
instructing songwriting as a secondary instrumental music teacher. To thoroughly under-
stand the experiences of individuals actualizing songwriting in their classrooms, I selected
six participants who teach songwriting in their weekly course schedules to understand their
separate perceptions and experiences (Stake, 2005). I first solicited suggestions for music
teachers who fit the criteria from my advisor and contacted other personal connections as
well. Upon referral and after initial contact was made, seven invitations to take part in this
study were sent via email. Participants were selected through a purposeful single significant
teaching case which Patton (2015) identifies as characteristics which highlight important
group similarities and differences when instructing songwriting. I bound the case to discus-
sions and conversations on songwriting (Table 16.1).

Table 16.1  Participant data

Teacher Total Years Teaching School Locale School Type

Ms. H 20 Midwest, urban Charter Primary, K-8

Ms. M 13 Midwest, urban Public Secondary, 9–12
Ms. N 4 Midwest, suburban Public Secondary, 9–12
Mr. D 7 East Coast, suburban Public Secondary, 9–12
Mr. S 15 East Coast, urban Charter Secondary, 6–12
Mr. C 1 East Coast, urban Private Secondary, 9–12
 Music Educators’ Perspectives on Songwriting  187
The Institutional Review Board of Temple University in Pennsylvania approved this
protocol which was originally designed under a class project umbrella. Participants com-
pleted consent forms included in the IRB approval before any data collection began. To
capture participants’ experiences with songwriting, I conducted one-on-one interviews
with each participant. I collected the data over a one-month period which included two
30-minute semi-structured interviews three weeks apart. Interviews were conducted
over video conferencing and were audio recorded with transcription completed within
24 hours. The first interview integrated questions related to participants’ teaching history,
personal songwriting experience, as well as their purpose and approach to instructing
songwriting in their classrooms. In between the first and second interview, I first level
open coded (Saldaña, 2016) the transcripts. This code list guided my second interview
protocol identifying inadequate data pertaining to the established research questions. In
the second interview, I asked participants follow-up questions centered around classroom
environment and relationship building in their classrooms. For trustworthiness, a peer
reviewer and I coded two transcripts independently of each other. We compared our sepa-
rate code lists and established a code book draft. Together we then coded another separate
transcript side by side with our code book draft to ensure a high-level of agreeability on
the final code book making any changes as needed. Guiding the secondary data source
pattern coding (Saldaña, 2016) analytic memos (Miles, Huberman, & Saldaña, 2020) of
the student songs and performance videos along with my digitized field notes represented
another layer of triangulation (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). All provided examples of student
work; four participants provided performance videos. I engaged in analytic memoing
while viewing the performances and synthesizing student songs by noting my impressions
of content themes and musical expression (Miles, Huberman, & Saldaña, 2020). My digi-
tized field notes and analytic memoing were added into the data corpus to (Miles, Huber-
man, & Saldaña, 2020) and after the artifacts had been pattern coded, I used the final code
book to second-level pattern code (Saldaña, 2016) all of the transcripts. I coded all artifacts
and interviews using the qualitative software, Dedoose. Thirty-six codes emerged and
were grouped into four themes.
After the four themes were established, I transformed the data into a poem to reflect
participants’ experiences, utilizing one or two words per line from their direct quotes. Arts-
based forms of communication, such as songwriting, alleviate pressures to process feelings
and experiences through only verbalization (van der Kolk, 2003). I made the choice to
represent the findings in primarily this arts-based way because it best represents what the
songwriting experience in a music classroom is like for the music teacher. I (will send) sent
the findings and the poem to the participants asking for feedback.

Findings
The data analysis revealed four themes. Freedom emerged as participants described their ex-
periences teaching songwriting in comparison to their other traditional music classes which
are product and standard dependent. Connector represented their greatest beneficial outcome
of teaching songwriting. Facilitator reflected participants’ descriptions of their perceived role
when teaching songwriting. Finally, inclusivity illustrated the ways songwriting provides a
place for all students with limited or extensive experience in music to participate.

Theme 1: Freedom
Participants referred to teaching songwriting as free from external pressures. Ms. S explains,
“Teaching songwriting feels liberating, because there are no expectations from outside
188  Lauren Ryals
people.” Participants often placed more emphasis on the journey through songwriting
rather than a final concert. In my field notes, I documented a sense of annoyance suggesting
through the interview protocol, a public concert would be included in the songwriting
courses. Commonly shared was a sense of freedom from national and state music standards,
providing refuge to a space for learning which is flexible and malleable. Unlike other music
courses like orchestra or band, which are rigid and have standards attached to them, par-
ticipants developed their own songwriting curriculum which all similarly implemented a
scaffold approach to instruction.

Theme 2: Connector
Participants articulated the greatest beneficial outcome of teaching songwriting was the
opportunity to connect with students in a meaningful way. When asked, “What is most re-
warding for you when teaching songwriting?” Ms. M answered, “I think connecting with
students in a different way, like through their music.” Participants reflected on the chance
to talk and share with their students in songwriting class as something special which often
did not happen in their other music classes. Ms. N said, “Songwriting is the best way to get
to know students.”

Theme 3: Facilitator
Data reflected that all participants perceived themselves as a facilitator when instructing
songwriting. Participants articulated that instructing songwriting is a collaborative expe-
rience with the teacher and students. Participants reflected on providing a safe space for
students to share and interact with their peers through modeling feedback and allowing
students to work for solutions with writing concerns together. Participants viewed their
role as less dominant with an emphasis on supportive yet unstructured curriculum to allow
the songwriting process flow naturally and holistically. Mr. S shared, “I think the idea of
facilitator is really the key role as a teacher of songwriting.”

Theme 4: Inclusion
In a traditional band or orchestra setting, it is challenging for students who have no ex-
perience to participate in music. Songwriting can be an entry point for any student who
does not have formal musical training to participate in their schools’ music program. Ms.
H explains, “Students do not need formal instruction on an instrument. They just need to
have the drive and the will to do it.”

Poem perspective
what is [it] about teaching songwriting?

[freedom]
a place to breath, explore the space
stretch and reach, channel flexibility
shape the journey, for you

[connector]
the piece that joins, one to another
 Music Educators’ Perspectives on Songwriting  189
their melodies, draw you in
reflection, honesty, raw

[facilitator]
walking beside, grab hands
modeling, follow but not too close
boundaries which support, yet flex

[inclusion]
for all, liberating
learn, begin here, now
express, your voice matters

Questions for Consideration

1 What questions have yet to be asked regarding music teachers’ roles during the process
of songwriting?
2 In which ways can music educators continue to develop strategies for teaching song-
writing from music therapy?
3 In what ways does songwriting support the emotional well-being of teachers of
songwriting?
4 In what ways can songwriting be used to help teachers and students learn from their
culture?

References
Cantor, J. S. (2006). Fearless innovation--songwriting for our lives: Inspiring learners with arts-based
practices that support creativity. Multicultural Education, 14(2), 57–64. http://libproxy.temple.edu/
login?url=https://searchproquestcom.libproxy.temple.edu/docview/62031921?accountid=14270
Gay, G. (2010). Culturally responsive teaching: Theory, research, and practice (2nd ed.). Teachers College
Press.
Green, L. (1988). Music on deaf ears: Musical meaning, ideology, education. Manchester University Press.
Hess, J. (2018). Detroit youth speak back: Rewriting deficit perspectives through songwriting. Bulletin of
the Council for Research in Music Education, (216), 7–30. 10.5406/bulcouresmusedu.216.0007
Kratus, J. (2007). Music education at the tipping point. Music Educators Journal, 94(2), 42–48. www.jstor.
org/stable/4623682
Lincoln, Y. S., & Guba, E. G. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. Sage.
Miles, M., Huberman, A., & Saldaña, J. (2020). Qualitative data analysis: A methods sourcebook (4th ed.).
Sage.
Patton, M. Q. (2015). Qualitative research and evaluation methods (4th ed.). Sage.
Reimer, B. (2003). A philosophy of music education: Advancing the vision (3rd ed.). Pearson Education.
Riley, P. E. (2012). Exploration of student development through songwriting. Visions of Research in Music Ed-
ucation, 22. http://search.ebscohost.com.libproxy.temple.edu/login. aspx? direct=true&db=eue&AN=
88265497&site=ehost-live&scope=site.
Saldaña, J. (2015). Thinking qualitatively: Methods of mind. Sage.
Saldaña, J. (2016). The coding manual for qualitative researchers (3rd ed.). Sage.
Shaun M. (1998). Arts-based research. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Silverman, M. J. (2011). The effect of songwriting on knowledge of coping skills and working alliance in
psychiatric patients: A randomized clinical effectiveness study. Journal of Music Therapy, 48(1), 103–122.
http://libproxy.temple.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.libproxy.temple.edu/docview/
871377588?accountid=14270
190  Lauren Ryals
Tobias, E. S. (2012). Hybrid spaces and hyphenated musicians: Secondary students’ musical engagement in
a songwriting and technology course. Music Education Research, 14(3), 329–346. http://search.ebscohost.
com.libproxy.temple.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=eue& AN=79379005&site=ehost-live&scope=site.
Acesso em:4 maio. 2020.
van der Kolk, B. A. (2003). Posttraumatic stress disorder and the nature of trauma. In M. F. Solomon &
D. J. Siegel (Eds.), Healing trauma: Attachment, mind, body and brain (pp. 168–195). Norton.
17 Songwriting Class as a Place for
Healing
John Kratus

The chairs in the music class were arranged in a semicircle. At the open end of the sem-
icircle, a young man played and sang his heart out. Some of the students leaned forward,
others tilted back, all intently listening. The song being sung was about the painful end of a
romantic relationship, including the lyric, “I never want to see you ever again.” But rather
than being sad, there was a caustic wit driving the song: the title “Lucky Charm” referred
mockingly to the former love interest, the song ended with a bouncy coda, and it was per-
formed on, of all instruments, a ukulele.
At the conclusion of the song, the class erupted in applause. There were smiles all around.
One student said, “All of your songs are like hits in the making.” Several students com-
mented on the shift from major mode to minor leading into the chorus. Another noticed
the unique lyrics,

You said, ‘I’m gonna lock myself in my room and wash away my thoughts of you.’ You
know, people would say, ‘Lock myself in my room and wash away the tears,’ or some
crap like that. But you’ve got this different thing, and it kind of grabs you.

Someone else noted, “You can’t write a sad song for ukulele. You could write, ‘You’re tear-
ing my heart out,’ and people would just smile.”
Later, as the college students gathered their belongings and filed out of the room, I
wondered, why do songwriters choose to take the saddest, most painful episodes in their
lives and turn them into songs? Arguably, music is the liveliest, most joyful of the arts.
Why do life’s heartbreaks find their way into so many songs? In the pop music realm,
consider Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” (“And you call me up again just to break me like
a promise/So casually cruel in the name of being honest”), Beyonce’s “Pray You Catch
Me’ (“You can taste the dishonesty/It’s all over your breath”), and almost everything ever
written by Adele.
Most of the 20 students in my songwriting classes were strangers to each other, a mixture
of music majors and non-music majors. Yet within a single semester class, they shared with
each other songs on the following topics:

• Describing sexual abuse by an older man when she was 15 years old.
• Explaining the pain of coming out to a mother who refused to believe her daughter is
lesbian.
• Dreaming of learning to fly after a terrible accident in which doctors said he might
never walk again.
• Handling the death of a family member.
• Disclosing that he was leaving the university due to racial discrimination.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-20
192  John Kratus
These are issues that would be difficult to discuss in person with best friends. But to express
them to near strangers is remarkable.
That so many college students experience these traumas may be surprising, but research
shows that the incidence of mental health problems among college students has been rising
in recent years. Lipson, Lattie, and Eisenberg (2019) found that college students suffer from
high and increasing rates (2007–2017) of mental health conditions, especially depression
and anxiety. In 2019, almost a quarter of college students had been diagnosed or treated for
anxiety or depression in the previous 12 months (American College Health Association,
2019). It is notable that the second leading cause of death among college students is suicide
(Turner, Leno, & Keller, 2013).
The COVID-19 pandemic worsened college students’ mental health. Interviews with
195 college students in the United States found that as a result of the pandemic: 91% worry
about their own health and of their loved ones, 89% have difficulty concentrating, 86% re-
port disruptions to sleeping patterns, 86% have decreased social interactions due to physical
distancing, and 82% report increased concerns about their academic performance (Son,
Hegde, Smith, Wang, & Sasangoher, 2020). A study of 2,031 student participants at Texas
A&M University found that 48% of students showed a moderate-to-severe level of depres-
sion, 38% showed a moderate-to-severe level of anxiety, and 18% had suicidal thoughts
(Wang et al., 2020). More than ever, there is a need for environments in which college
students can find support and healing.
The mental health of high school students has also suffered due to COVID-19. A
study by the American Psychological Association (2020) found that 81% of teens be-
tween the ages of 13 and 17 have experienced more intense stress during the pandemic.
Rao and Rao (2021) identified the causes of increased stress among high school students
as homework, lack of social interactions, and lack of support for mental well-being. A
songwriting class, even an online songwriting class in which students respond to each
other’s songs online, may address the needs for increased social interactions and support
for mental well-being.
Music therapists have used songwriting as a healing technique for decades to address
problems such as physical and emotional abuse (Lindberg, 1995), language difficulties
(Gfeller, 1987), and at-risk youth (Cohen et al., 2012). Music educators may have taken
longer than music therapists to understand the educational and emotional benefits of
songwriting for adolescents and young adults, but the change is coming. Songwrit-
ing has recently received increased attention in music education (Draves, 2008; Kratus,
2013, 2016; Kruse, 2018; Tobias, 2012, 2013), and songwriting classes have sprung up
in secondary schools and colleges around the world. Although music educators are not
trained to handle profound psycho-emotional distress in students, teachers’ work in a
songwriting class can offer an outlet for the emotional distress of adolescence and young
adulthood.
The act of songwriting requires a period of focused endeavor. It takes time to deliberate
over rhythmic, melodic, harmonic, and lyrical aspects of a song. This time allows song-
writers to work through their feelings and experiences. For some songwriters, the act of
songwriting becomes a therapeutic journey, enabling them to understand the meanings and
actions of themselves and others. Sharing their journey with others is part of the therapy.
Twentieth-century Austrian-Israeli philosopher Martin Buber’s views of the connections
among humans may explain why this is so.
In this chapter, I apply the philosophical ideas of Buber to explain the meaning of why
songwriters choose to share their grief with others. The testimony of students in collegiate
and high school songwriting classes is used as evidence to support Buber’s principles. The
chapter concludes with implications for music educators.
 Songwriting Class as a Place for Healing  193
I-It, I-Thou, and Education
Philosopher Martin Buber (1878–1965) was primarily known for two works: the book Ich
und Du (I and Thou) (1923/1970), and a series of published essays, Between Man and Men
(1947/2014). (Note: Buber and translators Walter Kaufmann and R. G. Smith use male
pronouns exclusively, which was the literary convention when the books were originally
published.) In Ich and Du, Buber explains the difference between two types of relationships
that one can have with objects or other people: I-It and I-Thou. In an I-It relation, one
considers the other (an object or a person) to have a particular function in relation to the “I.”
For example, my pencil is meant to draw, my car is meant to transport me, and my student
is meant to learn from me. In an I-It relationship, the “I” seeks no further relationship with
the “other” beyond fulfilling the needs of the “I.” An I-Thou relationship is much deeper,
because the “Thou” is assumed to have needs and desires that are equally important as
those of the “I.” The relationship between I and Thou is dialogical, and sharing is valued
over complying. Life’s most meaningful moments, Buber believes, are found in I-Thou
relationships.
In a teaching-learning environment, an I-It teacher desires all students to achieve certain
pre-determined objectives, whereas an I-Thou teacher desires student growth, with an
understanding that each student’s needs, desires, and abilities may vary. Students in an I-It
setting learn in a classroom devoted to a particular subject, and students in an I-Thou setting
learn in a community of peers. I-It learning can be thought of as a series of scripted learn-
ing experiences, and I-Thou learning can be described as a series of improvised learning
encounters, leading toward the development of the whole person.
In Between Man and Men, Buber explains his views on the function of education:

Education worthy of the name is essentially education of character. For the genuine
educator does not merely consider individual functions of his pupil … but his concern
is always the person as a whole, both in the actuality in which he lives before you now
and in his possibilities, what he can become.
(p. 104)

Buber (1947/2014) believed that one’s education requires the exploration and development
of two autonomous and independent instincts, which he labeled the originative instinct and
the communion instinct (pp. 83–103). The originative instinct is the desire to create some-
thing that did not previously exist. That “something” may be a newly created object (e.g., a
song), self-knowledge, personal attitudes, or knowledge of the world. It is the realm of the
originative instinct that many teachers feel most comfortable developing in their students.
Buber (1947/2014) describes the value of the originative instinct in this way:

Man, the child of man, wants to make things. He does not merely find pleasure in
seeing the form arise in material that presented itself as formless. What the child desires
is its own share in this becoming of things; [the student] wants to be the subject of this
event of production… What is important is that by one’s own intensively experienced
action something arises that was not there before.
(p. 85)

One can see the parallels between Buber’s description of origination and the act of song-
writing. Songwriters are not merely creating a musical product out of melody and lyrics;
they desire “to be the subject of this event of production.” Their songs are about themselves,
and teachers can assist students in expressing themselves through their songs.
194  John Kratus
However, Buber (1947/2014) warns, it is not sufficient for a songwriting teacher simply
to foster their students’ songwriting ability. Oftentimes, songwriting is a private activity. It
is the sharing of one’s songs, with all of their emotional content, that brings meaning to the
act of songwriting. Creativity is not enough.

As an originator, man is solitary… Nor can it help him to leave his solitude that his
achievement is received enthusiastically by the many… Only if someone grasps his
hand not as a “creator” but as a fellow-creature lost in the world, to be his comrade or
friend or lover beyond the arts, does he have an awareness and sense of mutuality.
(p. 87)

This brings us to Buber’s communion instinct—the need to share what we know, what we
can do, and who we are with others whom we respect. It is by doing so that songwriters
allow for a true I-Thou dialog with others. The sharing of a self-composed song with avid
listeners who then respond to the song becomes a realization of an I-Thou encounter, as
described in the opening true vignette.
Buber recognizes that education is about more than the development of knowledge,
skills, and attitudes. It is also about communing with others what one knows and who one
is. He writes:

An education based only on the training of the instinct of origination would prepare
a new human solitude which would be the most painful of all… What teaches us the
saying of Thou is not the originative instinct but the instinct for communion.
(Buber, 1947/2014, pp. 87–88)

The Instinct for Communion

In the following section, I provide examples, using songwriting students’ own words, of
the power of the instinct for communion. The first three quotations are from students in a
two-credit collegiate songwriting class. The students were required to write 200 words per
week in a journal to describe what they had accomplished during the week and how they
felt about it. None of the students quoted here were music majors. The final three quota-
tions are from high school students in a “School of Rock” elective music class, in which
students were taught to play rock band instruments and write songs. During the sixth week
of their high school class, students were asked to write anonymously, “What does song-
writing mean to you?”
The first collegiate entry describes the student’s “useful artistic progress” (origination)
developed during the class. It is in the second half of the entry that the importance of the
instinct for communion (“sharing with my peers and instructor the work I make”) is ex-
pressed. The sadness at the end of the entry is palpable.

This is my last entry to the journal and I will take a brief moment to reflect on the beauti-
ful experience of this songwriting class. I have gained so much useful artistic progress and
so much inspiration from my peers and instructor. I never thought an obscure 2 credit
songwriting class could have such a profound effect on me. I am going to miss so much
sharing with my peers and instructor the work I make, and being able to listen to their
work as well, I know it is an environment I will probably never get to experience again.

In the following collegiate entry, the student echoes Buber’s statement regarding the orig-
inative instinct: “[the student] wants to be the subject of this event of production.” The
 Songwriting Class as a Place for Healing  195
second half of the entry may explain why students in a songwriting class feel comfortable
sharing deep emotions with each other through their songs: “the bond is like going to a
therapy group.”

Song writing is very therapeutic....even more so than music playing because I can make
it for me and by me. My last comment is about the students in the class, the bond is
like going to a therapy group, though we may not all be friends outside the class room,
inside we are all very close and bonded. I have never had such a close relationship to so
many people in a classroom as I have had in this class.

The third collegiate entry states that the songwriting class provided the opportunity not
only to commune musically with class members but also to “the general public as well.”
Both this and the previous quotation speak of the close relationships with other students
formed in the class.

The songwriting class has given me the opportunity to not only develop as a song-
writer but also has given me the chance to express myself to others in class and the
general public as well. The friends I have made this past semester are friends that I
would consider more personal than some of the friends I’ve met at university two or
more years ago.

The quotations by three high school students are shorter but perhaps more poignant. Their
comments about the importance of songwriting clearly demonstrate that they understand
that songs are not mere musical artifacts but are, instead, a means to connect to the world
at large.
One student displayed a clear sense of social justice: “I want to write songs that inspire
and motivate people. I want to be the voice for those who can’t be heard and I want to ex-
pose the injustices in the world.”
Another student wrote of how personal trauma could be redirected to create songs that
could help others:

I am so sick of hearing songs that are about having sex and partying all the time. I’ve
been through a lot of rough stuff in my life and I want to use those things as inspiration
to write songs that will help others. I want people to be able to reach for my songs for
comfort when they are in distress.

A third wrote, “Songs can be a way for people to realize that they are not alone in this
world.”
To the six students quoted here, their songs had meaning and a purpose in connecting
them to others—souls touching souls. In the concluding section of this chapter, I suggest
implications for music education. However, it is beyond the scope of this chapter to describe
a pedagogy for songwriting class, which I have published elsewhere (Kratus, 2013, 2016).

Songwriting Class and Healing

The evidence presented earlier in this chapter regarding the incidence of mental health
problems among high school and college students suggests the need for educational settings
in which adolescents and young adults can release their demons and regain their mental
health. The quotations from high school and college students regarding their experience in
a songwriting class imply that a songwriting class may offer that opportunity.
196  John Kratus
The words of Martin Buber provide a framework for educators to address the emotional
needs of their students in a songwriting class. In an I-Thou classroom, teachers do not con-
trol the flow of musical information from teacher to students as in most music classrooms.
Rather, the students and teacher interact in a dialog, in which the students’ songs become
the content with which teacher and students engage. This is quite different from a typically
autocratic music classroom/rehearsal in which the students engage solely with the music
presented by the teacher.
The role of the teacher in a songwriting class is to develop a safe and nurturing envi-
ronment, in which students feel free to express their deepest emotions. For students to feel
comfortable sharing their feelings through their songs, they need to be assured that their
songs will not be ridiculed. In the early sessions of a songwriting class, I did not ask other
students to comment on whether they liked the song. Instead, I asked what they liked about
the song. That provided the songwriters with positive feedback about their songs.
It was also important for me to share my own songs or emerging songs with the class.
The students were free to comment on my songs. In an I-Thou relationship, there needs to
be an openness of sharing of oneself with the other(s).
A songwriting class can be a place of healing if the teacher allows the relationship be-
tween teacher and students to be I-Thou. Music education can be much more than a setting
for learning musical skills and knowledge. Rather, music education for adolescents and
young adults can be an opportunity for the healing of some of life’s most painful episodes.

Questions for Consideration

1 In what ways have you experienced healing in your life with/through music?
2 Can you think of a time in your life when you experienced a strong desire to commune
with other people?
3 Have you ever experienced intense pain in your life that you found difficult to share?
4 What can the creative processes surrounding songwriting do to encourage communion
among members of a group of people?

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sessment II: Undergraduate student executive summary spring 2019. Silver Spring, MD: American College
Health Association.
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sis. https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/stress/2020/report-october (Accessed January 20, 2021).
Buber, M. (1970). I and Thou. (W. Kaufmann, Trans.). Touchstone. (Original work published 1923)
Buber, M. (2014). Between Man and Man. (R. G. Smith, Trans.). Martino Publishing. (Original work
published 1947)
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 Songwriting Class as a Place for Healing  197
Kruse, A. J. (2018). “Hip-hop wasn’t something a teacher ever gave me”: Exploring hip-hop musical
learning. Music Education Research, 20(3), 317–329.
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by US college students: 10-year population-level trends (2007–2017). Psychiatric Services, 70(1), 60–63.
Lindberg, K. A. (1995). Songs of healing: Songwriting with an abused adolescent. Music Therapy, 13(1),
93–108.
Rao, M. E., & Rao, D. M. (2021). The mental health of high school students during the COVID-19
pandemic. Frontiers in Education: Educational Psychology. https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/
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Son, C., Hegde, S., Smith, A., Wang, X., & Sasangohar, F. (2020). Effects of COVID-19 on college
students’ mental health in the United States: Interview survey study. Journal of Medical Internet Research,
22(9), e21279.
Tobias, E. S. (2012). Hybrid spaces and hyphenated musicians: Secondary students’ musical engagement
in a songwriting and technology course. Music Education Research, 14(3), 329–346.
Tobias, E. S. (2013). Composing, songwriting, and producing: Informing popular music pedagogy. Re-
search Studies in Music Education, 35(2), 213–237.
Turner, J. C., Leno, E. V., & Keller, A. (2013). Causes of mortality among American college students: A
pilot study. Journal of College Student Psychotherapy, 27(1), 31–42.
Wang, X., Hegde, S., Son, C., Keller, B., Smith, A., & Sasangohar, F. (2020). Investigating mental health
of US college students during the COVID-19 pandemic: cross-sectional survey study. Journal of Medical
Internet Research, 22(9), e22817.
18 Group Creativities
Mapping the Creative Process of Mobile
Music Creation
Jason Chi Wai Chen

Introduction
This chapter focuses on how group creativities were developed and transformed during
the creative process of mobile music creation in popular music education. This study can
directly contribute to the literature of musical creativities and how group creativities can be
implemented into the music curriculum in classroom teaching.
Musical creativities have been considered a major topic in the field of music education. Bur-
nard (2012), a scholar of music education and musical creativities, published a book entitled
Musical Creativities in Practice. The book reveals an advanced framework of musical creativities
characterized by social, cultural, and habitus aspects. The framework has been mapped using
singer-songwriters, musical compositions, improvised music, DJs, original bands, and inter-
active audio design. Burnard (2012) stated that creativity is by its very nature a socially and
culturally mediated practice and defined “musical creativity” from the perspectives of phe-
nomenology, psychology, and ethnomusicology based on the traditions of general creativity
research. Musical creativity is indeed culturally, socially, and historically situated. The defini-
tion of “group creativity” in this study conceptualizes the creative processes of how students
work as a group and how group creativities were generated during the teaching and learning
process of mobile music creation. This project explored the process of group creativity in
popular music education through mobile music creation, co-creation, and re-creation and its
capacity to engage students in learning popular music in a classroom setting.
This kind of group learning activity can pave the way for learning how popular music
tracks are composed of multiple layers by applying GarageBand as a virtual instrument. The
creative process of group creativity was video-recorded and analyzed by the researcher to
gain a deeper understanding of the educational values, learning outcomes, and communica-
tion skills of students during the process of learning and re-creating. Group interview data
were also collected and used to formulate how the workflow of mobile learning encouraged
the creative process in the context of group creativity.

Creative Space for Group Creativities

This study adopts Burnard’s (2012) framework of musical creativities, which is character-
ized by the social, cultural, and sociological (Bourdieusian tools of ) habitus-field-capital di-
mensions. The framework has its roots in Csikszentmihalyi’s three-pronged system model
of genre creativity. Csikszentmihalyi (1999) stated that creativity is a process that can be
observed only at points where individuals, domains, and fields intersect. Therefore, Bur-
nard’s framework (2012) can be applied to different types of musical creativities.
A domain is a formal body of knowledge with cultural or symbolic aspects. Csiksze-
ntmihalyi (1999) stated that the domain is a necessary component of creativity because it

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-21
 Group Creativities  199
is impossible to introduce a variation without referencing a pre-existing pattern. In other
words, “new” is meaningful only in reference to “old.” Furthermore, Barron (1963, cited
in Bresler 2007) suggested that creativity is the ability to bring something new into an es-
tablished culture. Culture involves a set of interrelated domains, which can include music,
mathematics, religion, technology, and so on. When the different domains within a culture
are integrated, they mutually support a common goal.
A field refers to a society of experts who are familiar with the rules of a particular do-
main. Fields have a social component, as individuals seek social validation for the creative
art they generate. Burnard (2012) argued that complex social factors influence musical cre-
ativity. Society is the sum of all fields operating within a time-space framework (Csiksze-
ntmihalyi 1999). It comprises individuals, institutions, and social groupings, both large and
small, mutually involved in structural relationships.
The majority of psychosocial research assumes that creativity is an individual trait and
refers to the particular background, interests, and habitus of the musician or composer. Au-
thorship refers to the intersection between a person and a field. Certain creative practices,
including social and personal practices, favor certain forms of authorship. Wolff (cited in
Burnard 2012) observed that authors must be considered the products of social and ideolog-
ical factors and constantly reconstructed.
There are two forms of authorship: the self-social form and the social-cultural form. The
first involves personal and collaborative creativities inextricably linked to the place that
authorizes the practice. Burnard (2012) stated that new musical creativities are constantly
being born, crossing territories, linking fields, and transgressing organizational boundaries
where the fields within a social system sanction them. In such a social system, individu-
als are influenced to pay attention to those creativities accepted by their fields, which are
known as social-cultural forms.
Burnard (2012) suggested that the concept of mediation takes center stage in developing
both critical musicology and the cultural study of music. These modalities are identified in
two ways. First, temporal mediations, including compositional, improvisational, and per-
formance creativities, are novelties that have been selected and accepted by the fields and
mediated into knowledge. Second, in the current environment, creativity and technology
embody each other. Thus, “technological mediation” refers to the use of technologies and
new methods for expressing creativity.
The practice principle marks the intersection between a domain and a field and signifies
a transmission between current and new practices. Before a person can introduce a creative
variation, he or she must have access to a domain and must want to learn how to perform
according to its rules (Csikszentmihalyi 1999). This access is meant to transmit the current
practices and inspire the creative individual and is implicit in the framework. People who
master a domain and want to change it have a higher proportion of their efforts recognized
as creative. The changes are recognized as transmissions of personal innovation or new
practices and are explicit in the framework.
Chen (2017) claimed that the process of group creativity evolves from individual creativity
and involves the achievement of originality and sustainability as a group. The group creativ-
ity process is also commonly found in jazz combos or rock bands, the members of which at-
tempt to transform their creativities into unique musical identities in the field. In this project,
the creative process of mobile music creation in the popular music context was examined.

Popular Music Curricula

In recent years, music technology and popular music education have been linked to re-
search and practice at both tertiary and secondary school levels. Green (2002) believed
200  Jason Chi Wai Chen
that including popular music in a school’s curriculum is highly beneficial and evaluated in
her research that musicianship, discipline, and self-esteem could be gained through popu-
lar music education. Ruthmann (2007) suggested that today’s students are immersed in a
“sound world” due to the diversity of music in their daily lives. However, there is a gap be-
tween “inside” and “outside” experiences of music. Chen and O’Neill (2020) examined the
engagement of students’ learning in composing classical and popular music with a digital
audio workstation (DAW) and suggested the use of a hybrid composition strategy to blend
the old and the new in teaching and learning. Tobias (2012, 2013) investigated how second-
ary students engaged with music and acted as musicians in a songwriting and technology
class that involved creating, recording, and producing original music with instruments and
music technology.
Based on these experiences, Tobias developed a theoretical framework for popular mu-
sic pedagogy that addresses the role of production in contemporary music-making and
expands the notions of aural skills and music literacy in producing popular music. Cru-
cially, Tobias’ work incorporated the details of production processes in music classrooms.
By contrast, Moir and Medbøe (2015) suggested that teaching, learning, and assessment in
popular music education should be based on understanding popular music composition as
a ­“performance-centered practice.” The current project built on both of these insights. It
explored connections between mobile learning and popular music education by adopting
the tablet as a tool for performance-centered practice to expand our notion of aural skills
and music literacy in popular music pedagogy. This study can thus serve as an exemplar for
teachers implementing mobile learning techniques in popular music education.

Mobile Music Creation

In Hong Kong’s context, Chen (2015) investigated interrelationships among mobile learn-
ing, motivation, and musicianship with the usage of the mobile application Auralbook to
learn aural skills. From the research findings, students have improvements in clapping and
singing performances through completing the practices from the application. Chen (2020)
further explored the possibility of composing popular music with tablets with a specially
designed 12-week mobile learning curriculum. Tablets such as the iPads are employed to
explore creativities through non-traditional ways as students would not have to play on the
real instruments. Students were instructed to compose jazz 12-bar blues and rock music
on iPads with the application GarageBand. Results found that students had higher intrinsic
value, attainment value, utility value, perceived cost and expectancy in music lessons, for
both instrumental and non-instrumental learners.
Bauer and Mito (2017) claimed that technology could enhance creative thinking in mu-
sic and found that students in classes facilitated by technology demonstrated increased cre-
ative musical thinking:

In New York, a public school music teacher, Ada Goldberg, experimented with using
iPads in class to give students with mental and physical disabilities the opportunity to
explore their musical creativity. The experiment used iPads because iPad applications
do not require users to have well-developed musical techniques. Students can thus ex-
perience the pleasures of composing and arranging music in their own way.
(p. 95)

Tablets, including the iPad, are tools that can be used in general music classrooms to ex-
plore music through non-traditional instrumental means (Kratus 2007). From pre-school
to secondary school, students have learned, performed, and composed music on tablets.
 Group Creativities  201
Randles (2013) shared his experience of using an iPad to perform as an ensemble for uni-
versity students and provided instructive insights into using the tablet in the general music
classroom setting. Despite these innovations, however, there has been little research on how
mobile music creation synthesizes group creativity within specially designed popular music
curricula in the general music classroom setting.

Analysis of the Project

This study focuses on how the three intersecting aspects of a cappella groups affect the map-
ping of musical creativities. Semi-structured focus group interviews were conducted with
five students from the course. The interviewees were permitted to introduce new ideas
during the interviews. Nine open-ended questions were asked. The researcher mapped the
interview data according to Burnard’s (2012) musical creativities framework.
Under the dimensions of persons, habitus (dispositions individual history), student A
from the focus group expressed that the mobile music creation can provide a learning ex-
perience in enhancing their ensemble and musicianship skills in the mode of interaction.
During the creative process, students were not required any skills to play instrument, but
they could enjoy the fun of jamming music on tablet. They could swap instruments to
play specific tunes too. Under the dimensions of fields, social systems and related capitals,
student B from the focus group claimed that the learning process of mobile music creation,
co-creation, and re-creation could engage them into the course more actively and attract
them to learn more, explore more, and got familiar with the mobile devices. This could
encourage them to learn music by ear, not the traditional kinds of taught lecture mode.
Under the dimensions of domains, cultural systems and related capitals, student C said that
rock music was recognized as popular music and received less recognition as classical mu-
sic. However, popular music required a high level of ensemble musicianship that classical
music might not provide. Under the dimension of musical creativities’ temporal modalities,
student D expressed that every musician in the band could be the arrangers, as they created
their own parts in the jamming session. Under the dimension of musical creativities’ tech-
nological mediations, student E said that they did not need to buy a drum or even a pair of
drum sticks when they tried to create the groove. They could create an “E-band” in the
future to play popular music on stage.

Synthesized Framework of Mobile Music Creation

The above sequenced voicings of students from mobile music creation were mapped sys-
tematically into Burnard’s Musical Creativities Framework (2012) in different dimensions
as a summary in Figure 18.1.

The Embedment of Mobile Learning in Popular Music Curricula

Under the framework of mobile music creation, mobile learning can be embedded in the
popular music curriculum. During the creative process, students appreciate the rock music
culture and experience group performance in the combo section digitally in the classroom
setting. This embedment of mobile learning can pave the way for digital musicianship in
future music education. Students can learn different popular music styles or genres, such as
rock, jazz, rhythm and blues, hip-hop, rap, and electronic dance music, under the popular
music curriculum on a mobile tablet with an effective instructional design provided by
the music teacher. This study echoes the opinions of Kratus (2007), Randles (2013), and
­Williams (2014) that tablets could be used in general music classrooms to explore music
202  Jason Chi Wai Chen

Figure 18.1  Synthesized framework of mobile music creation.

without students needing to learn and play traditional instruments. This project demon-
strates that students can learn, perform, and compose music on tablets and that this teaching
and learning method can be adopted in future primary and secondary school curricula.
Furthermore, the practice of jamming sessions in class can pave the way to digital mu-
sicianship in which students interact with virtual instruments and expand their learning
experience not only by listening to or identifying different genres of popular music but
also by jamming and interacting with peers as an e-band in class with a selected YouTube
video used for classroom teaching. This instructional design can level up the teaching and
learning of popular music. Students can engage in and learn digital musicianship during the
creative process of mobile music creation.

Creation, Co-Creation, and Re-Creation in Group Creativities

Students built group creativities during the creative process of mobile music creation,
through which creation, co-creation, and re-creation were examined. Each student de-
veloped their tracks first as individual creation by replicating the riffs, bassline, or drum
beats from the music video. In the next step of co-creation, pairs of students jammed and
listened to each other’s tracks to check whether their parts could work as a duo. Finally,
groups of three to four students jammed their parts together and added their improvisation
on top of the mobile music creation in a collaborative re-creation. This creative process
can thus expand the self-social domain from a personal level to a collective level and then
from a collective level to a collaborative level. This innovative learning experience can
develop students’ creativity from individual to group level. This echoes Chen’s (2017) ideas
that the importance of nurturing group creativity in music education is to encourage both
personal learning and collaborative learning. Today’s society strongly emphasizes personal
success. However, music education is not only about personal success but also about how
 Group Creativities  203
to succeed as a group. The essence of mobile music creation is creating and sharing musical
ideas, refining, and performing group-created musical compositions or arrangements as group
creativities.

The Role of the Music Teacher in Mobile Music Creation

In this project, the role of the music teacher was transformed from a teacher-centered ap-
proach to a student-centered approach during the creative process of collaborative mobile
music creation. Randles (2022) discussed the role of music teacher as a producer to generate
musical creativities in classroom teaching in music education which is directly revealed in
this study. Furthermore, the role of the student changed from a passive learner to an active
learner as the student was required to listen attentively to the YouTube video clips and play
them back on the tablet track by track. In this way, students were actively engaged in learn-
ing through the creative process of mobile music creation.
The goal of this project is to meet the needs of in-service teachers seeking to embed mobile
learning into their classroom teaching. Therefore, a five-week course on the application of
mobile learning in mobile music creation for in-service teachers was developed and is being
provided in our institutions. This course aims at knowledge transfer or knowledge exchange
between academic staff and in-service teachers. During this course, technical skills are taught
in GarageBand and different instructional designs are discussed among the participating
teachers. Through this collective approach, more innovative and effective mobile learning
strategies are formulated for primary school teachers. Furthermore, all of the teachers’ teach-
ing plans are being uploaded and shared on a Knowledge Transfer (KT) website to serve
as a reference point for teachers from Hong Kong and other countries on the instructional
design of mobile music creation. From analyzing the teaching plans, we found that the trend
of mobile music creation does provide more creative space to learn different kinds of music
including classical, folk music, traditional Chinese music, and popular music. Teachers are
able to engage students’ learning by using the application GarageBand to learn different in-
strumental techniques, music theory concepts, sound design, creating and arranging music.

The Implications for Creativities in Music Education

In this book, a notable trend in the opinions of academics from different countries was that
music students need more creative space individually and collaboratively in the classroom
teaching in music education. Therefore, more and more research and practice will be con-
ducted in collaborative creative spaces, such as those described in the songwriting class as
a place for healing by John Kratus (Chapter 22) and the effects of group assignment on a
GarageBand activity by Samuel Holmes (Chapter 26).
In Chapter 22, a songwriting class is conceived of as an individual music creation and
a healing process through a group of creative activities in classroom teaching in which
students can share thoughts, insights, and emotions among their classmates. This kind of
creative process can also be used as a healing process for students. In the songwriting class,
teachers can provide a collaborative creative space for students to engage in.
In Chapter 26, creative freedom is encouraged by students being assigned creative group
work in a GarageBand activity. Each student has the creative freedom to make their own
musical decisions during the creative process. Teachers also find that students are more on
task when they are working with their friends. This pedagogy can pave the way for provid-
ing more collaborative creative spaces to students in classroom teaching.
In the domain of creativities and curriculum, there is an intersection between Chapters
22, 23, and 26. A recent trend for collaborative group work is demonstrated in classroom
204  Jason Chi Wai Chen
teaching in creativities and music education. The instructional design has been transformed
from a more teacher-centered approach to a student-centered approach. The role of the
teacher has changed from classroom teacher to classroom demonstrator and facilitator as the
evolution of technology transforms our instructional design. This project formulated a new
teaching method in music education as one of the new teaching strategies in the digital music
curriculum that can facilitate creativities within a collaborative creative space, based on our
research in music education and aimed at the future practice of music classroom teaching.
Furthermore, recent trends of developing and applying mobile learning pedagogies will
become a new area of research to understand how to adopt mobile music creation in our
existing music curriculum. Williams and Randles (2017) further discussed on how the cur-
ricular change in the undergraduate course can create space for popular music education in
the curriculum. Therefore, popular music education is deemed necessary in school music
education as a global trend in the future music teacher education together with group cre-
ativities and mobile music creation to be implemented in teachers’ education institutions.

Notes
This study extends a previous study in mobile music creation for secondary school stu-
dents in Hong Kong. A KT website (https://sites.google.com/view/kt-project-mobile-­
composing/home) is available for in-service and pre-service teachers to download teaching
materials, work schemes, video clips, and teaching plans to use in their instructional design
in mobile music creation.

Questions for Consideration

1 How can we generate student’s group creativity in our music classroom teaching?
2 How can mobile music creation be implemented in the music curriculum?
3 What is the role of music teacher in mobile music creation?
4 What are the changes of student engagement in mobile music creation?
5 What are the pedagogies in mobile music creation?

References
Barron, F. (1963). Creativity and psychological health. New York: Van Nostrand.
Bauer, W. I., & Mito, H. (2017). ICT in music education. In A. King, E. Himonides, & S. A. Ruthmann
(Eds.), The Routledge companion to music, technology, and education (pp. 91–102). New York and London:
Routledge.
Bresler, L., ed. (2007). International handbook of research in arts education. Dordrecht: Springer.
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical creativities in practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Chen, C. W. J. (2015). Mobile learning: using app Auralbook to learn aural skills. International Journal of
Music Education, 33(2), 244–259.
Chen, C. W. J. (2017). Group creativity: Mapping the creative process of a cappella choirs in Hong Kong
and the United Kingdom using the musical creativities framework. Music Education Research, 20(1),
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Chen, C. W. J. (2020). Mobile composing: Professional practices and impact on students’ motivation in
popular music. International Journal of Music Education, 38(1), 147–158.
Chen, C. W. J., & O’Neill, S. A. (2020). Computer-mediated composition pedagogy: Students’ engage-
ment and learning in popular music and classical music. Music Education Research, 22(2), 185–200.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1999). Implications of a systems perspective for the study of creativity. In R. J.
Sternberg (Ed.), Handbook of creativity esthetics (pp. 313–335). Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University
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Green, L. (2002). How popular musicians learn: A way ahead for music education. New York and London:
Routledge.
Kratus, J. (2007). Music education at the tipping point. Music Educators Journal, 94(2), 42–48.
Moir, Z., & Medbøe, H. (2015). Reframing popular music composition as performance centred practice.
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19 Children’s Traditional Playground
Musicking, Creativity, and Media
Culture
Martina Vasil

For over 150 years, researchers have documented childhood culture, capturing traditional
playground songs, chants, and games (Burn & Richards, 2014). Early collections included
traditional rhymes and games (Gomme, 1894, 1898; Halliwell, 1849; Newell, 1883). Later,
Peter and Iona Opie helped to establish childhood culture as an area of serious study with
their prolific work on nursery rhymes (Opie & Opie, 1951, 1955, 1963), games and language
(Opie & Opie, 1959, 1969), fairy tales (Opie & Opie, 1974), singing games (Opie & Opie,
1985), and other elements of play (Opie, 1993, 1997). The Opies marked a shift in folklore
research to include contemporary culture rather than archived material (British Library,
n.d.) and several researchers followed in their footsteps in the years after (Burn & Richards,
2014; Campbell, 2010; Campbell & Lum, 2007; Dzansi, 2004; Eckhardt, 1975; Harwood,
1993, 1994a, 1994b, 1998; Marsh, 1995, 1999, 2008; Willett et al., 2013; Vasil, 2013).
Children’s creativity is evident within all these works, although that often was not the
focus nor the center of authors’ discussions. In the Opies’s work, creativity was evidenced
through variants of the songs, jingles, lullabies, singing games, jokes, riddles, rhymes, ritu-
als, beliefs, and fairy tales (British Library, n.d.). Bishop and Curtis (2001) recognized play-
ground games as creative learning, but only two researchers examined the creative elements
of playground musicking (Marsh, 2008; Vasil, 2013).
Within the past 20 years, researchers have studied a major influence on children’s mu-
sical creativity—media culture (Bosacki et al., 2006; Jones, 2006). The mass media creates
culture that is communicated through television, radio, cinema, the press, and the Internet.
Although media culture may contribute to a move away from active to more passive in-
teraction with music (Alghadir et al., 2015), for many children it provides another way to
receive musical information and only creates a slight pause in their inert need to actively
make music. Children incorporate visual images, story lines, characters, dialogues, and
music from media culture into their own understandings and play (Burn & Richards, 2014;
Marsh, 2008; Vasil, 2013; Willett et al., 2013). Folkloric forms blend with contemporary
popular culture from a wide range of decades, “from music-hall to pop music, from radio
theme tunes to TV advertisement jingles” (Willett et al., 2013, p. 213).
Two publications provide an in-depth look at this intersection of media culture and
children’s culture: Children, Media and Playground Cultures: Ethnographic Studies of School Play-
times (Willett et al., 2013) and Children’s Games in the New Media Age: Childlore, Media and
the Playground (Burn & Richards, 2014). While the researchers use the same data set that
was collected over two years at two primary schools in the United Kingdom, they provide
different interpretations of the data. They also examine media influence broadly on all
children’s play and do not focus solely on children’s musicking or musical creativity. Other
publications on media culture and musical creativity exclusively center on the use of tech-
nology (Crow, 2007; McPherson & Welch, 2018; Tobias, 2013, 2015). It seems that only
two studies examined the effect of media culture on children’s playground musical play and

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-22
 Children’s Musical Creativity  207
creativity without the aid of technological devices (Marsh, 2008; Vasil, 2013), with Marsh
suggesting a framework for how children incorporate media into their play: (1) textual
substitution; (2) the relationship of audio/visual media and musical play practices: textual,
musical, and movement material (music videos, TV shows); (3) textual inclusion of icons;
(4) a parody of the adult world; and (5) new invented parts.
For this chapter, I re-examined the literature to explain how musical creativity manifests
on the playground and how media culture intersects, describe lesson plans that center
creative activities and integrate media culture, and discuss implications for the music ed-
ucation profession. I explicitly do not include technology in this discussion; this chapter
is centered on how media culture has interacted with children’s non-technology-medi-
ated, creative musicking on the playground. I hope that those who read this chapter are
inspired to be more curious about children’s interests and capacity for musical creativity
and to take the time to plan lessons that celebrate and leverage children’s interests, ability,
and knowledge.

Creativity and Children’s Traditional Playground Musicking

Sedimentation/innovation is the main manifestation of children’s musical creativity on the
playground. Sedimentation refers to a certain persistence of elements in children’s play, but
not a permanence of those elements (Willet et al., 2013). Sedimented forms of musicking in
children’s play provide the tradition and groundwork for innovation (creativity) to occur.
“Innovative expression cannot occur without the reworking of sedimented forms—and
conversely, sedimentation cannot occur without the innovative work of new layers of myth
and meaning” (Kenzo, 2009; Willett et al., 2013, p. 19). Children have a sophisticated un-
derstanding of the formulaic construction of playground games and songs and understand
how the music and the movement work together (Marsh, 2008). Their innovations, or new
invented parts, are dependent on a shared vernacular knowledge between group members
(Marsh, 2008). What tends to shift is the text (i.e., textual substitution), with endless var-
iations, or innovations (Bauman, 2008; Marsh, 2008). This was evidenced clearly to me
in my own observation of children’s play in West Virginia (Vasil, 2013). Within the two
days of observation, I observed three variations for the same clapping game, “Velocity” (see
Figure 19.1). Note the elements that stay the same throughout the variations (certain texts,
one hand-clap pattern), while others that shift (the form, the text, a variation of the original
hand-clap pattern is created).
Innovation can be further categorized as children’s arranging and re-arranging of orig-
inal works and creating mash-ups. Arranging is reorchestrating an original work for new
musical contexts (Tobias, 2013). In this case, traditional playground songs and chants are
the pieces being reworked with each group of children and their friends, as in the case of
“Velocity”. Sometimes this also involves songs, moves, and rhythms from media culture
that are being reworked on the playground. For example, the hand-clapping game “Double
Mint Gum”1 uses traditional hand-clapping patterns and overlays the melody from a gum
jingle used in commercials released between 1990 and 19942 (Doublemint Gum has had
various jingles since the 1960s).
A mash-up is combining the elements of the original with one or more different songs
through juxtapositions, sometime segueing between them, to create new composites and
new ways of hearing the original (Tobias, 2013). This can clearly be seen in the hand-­
clapping game, “ABC, Hit It”, where the text and rhythm of KC and the Sunshine Band’s
“That’s the Way (I Like It)” is found at the beginning of the hand-clap game (Powell, 2013).
Some variations go further and mash-up two entire hand-clapping games such as “ABC,
Hit It” and “Welcome to McDonald’s”3 (Powell, 2013).
208  Martina Vasil
Variation 1
Partners take both hands and
swing from side to side four
times as they chant the
syllables on the beat over
four beats
Vel-o-cit-y
Hand clap pattern: clap own
hands, clap right hands, clap
own hands, clap left hands
I went to a Chinese restaurant
To buy a loaf of bread, bread,
bread
They asked me what my
name was
And this is what I said, said
said
Rubato, partners take both
hands and swing from side to
side four times as they chant
the syllables on the beat over
four beats
My-name-is
Resume hand clap
E-I, E-I,
Nickoli, Nickoli
Pom, pom, poodle
Willy, willy, whiskers
My-name-is (rubato, grab
both hands like beginning)
Resume hand clap
Elvis Presley
Boys are messy
Sittin' in a hottub
Drinking a bottle of Pepsi
My-name-is (rubato, grab
both hands like beginning)
Resume hand clap
Chinese, Japanese
Punch you in the stomach
Oh, sorry. Oh, sorry.
Don't call mommy
Mommy is mad,
I'm sad
My-name-is (insert names of
players)
Figure 19.1  Variations 1–3 of “Velocity” compared side by side.
Variation 2
[skipped the introduction]
Hand clap pattern: clap own
hands, clap right hands, clap
own hands, clap left hands
I went to a Chinese restaurant
To buy a loaf of bread, bread,
bread
They asked me what my
name was
And this is what I said, said
said
[skipped the rubato section]
Hand clap pattern continues
E, I, pickle eye (disrupted—
recess was over)
Variation 3
Partners take both hands and
swing from side to side four
times as they chant the
syllables on the beat over
four beats
Vel-o-cit-y
Hand clap pattern: clap own
hands, clap right hands, clap
own hands, clap left hands
I met my boyfriend at the
candy shop,
He bought me ice cream, he
bought me cake
He brought me home with a
belly ache
[skipped the rubato section]
Variation on handclap
pattern (underlined): clap
own hands, clap right hands,
clap own hands, clap left
hands, clap both hands with
partner
Mama, mama, I'm so sick
Call the doctor, quick, quick,
quick
Resume hand clap
Doctor, doctor, will I die?
No claps, close eyes, hands
down
Close your eyes and count to
5
No claps, eyes open
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I'm alive!
 Children’s Musical Creativity  209
Children have a collaborative approach to composition, with composition and perfor-
mance interdependent on one another. This means that small changes occur in each per-
formance, with children continuing or rejecting ideas with each repeat performance. The
process is also cyclical, with improvisation and composition moving like an “evolving cy-
cle”, which is the characteristic of orally transmitted genres (Marsh, 2008, p. 213). Chil-
dren’s compositional process has an unfixed nature to it; rarely does a musical product
remain the same (Marsh, 2008). They compose free of the constraints of a typical music
classroom—playing with the ordering of the music, without notation or other externally
imposed performance perimeters (Swanwick & Tillman, 1986). This is contrary to other
frameworks for children’s creativity, which posit linear approaches and claim a distinction
between improvisation and composition, with composition manifesting as a fixed product
that is often notated (Kratus, 1994; Swanwick & Tillman, 1986).
Marsh’s (2008) research showed that children exhibit creative processes on the play-
ground that are more advanced than previous frameworks on children’s creativity sug-
gest (Swanwick & Tillman, 1986), often showing a compositional sophistication at much
younger ages than expected. Children create with an overall design in their compositions
in mind, relying on the foundation of using known musical formulae (sedimentation), from
both traditional repertoire and media culture (Marsh, 2008). Children’s known musical
formulae contain rhythmic complexity (including polyrhythms) and a variety of melodic
and tonal patterns, revealing a direct influence of media culture (Marsh, 2008).

The Integration of Media Culture

Media culture is embedded in sedimentation/innovation as onomastic allusion and cultural
rehearsal. Onomastic allusion is the reference of proper names in the texts of children’s play
(Bishop & Curtis, 2001, p. 3). Marsh (2008) also called this a “provision of textual material”
(p. 167) or textual inclusion of icons. The text of songs, chants, and musical games often
includes the names of icons from media culture; this may include the names of corporations
(McDonald’s, Pepsi), musicians (Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, Madonna), and products
(Big Mac, Captain Crunch) (Harwood, 1994a; Marsh, 2008; Opie & Opie, 1959, 1985;
Vasil, 2013).
Sometimes onomastic allusion is accompanied by cultural rehearsal, “a cycle of iterative
consumption and production” (Willett et al., 2013, p. 106) that allows for “repeat, rewind,
and replay” (Willett et al., 2013, p. 218). Marsh (2008) called this the relationship of audio/
visual media and musical play practices: textual, musical, and movement material (music
videos, TV shows). Cultural rehearsal includes any imitation from mass media, such as con-
temporary popular music and dance routines and TV show dialogues (Willett et al., 2013).
This is inherently a creative act—children select the material from mass culture to manip-
ulate and go beyond imitation to create “hybrid, recontextualised [sic] practices” (Willett
et al., 2013, p. 219). For example, in Marsh’s (2008) study, chants that referred to Michael
Jackson and Madonna were accompanied by actions such as kissing, pelvic thrusts, and the
lifting of skirts in imitation of the musical icons’ performance styles. Cultural rehearsal can
also occur without accompaniment; children may sing using popular music stylings (bend-
ing notes, using a wide range of notes, and vocalizing on the syllables “ooo” or “ahhh”)
and move in a way that emulates popular music dance styles: crisscrossing the feet, clapping
once and turning, shifting the hips from side to side, and shaking their heads; this is uncon-
nected to any kind of chant, song, or singing game (Vasil, 2013). Cultural rehearsal may also
occur through spontaneous musicking—as children walk around, they hum bits of theme
songs from children’s shows (such as The Smurfs), sing theme songs from television (such
as wrestler John Cena’s theme song), sing sections from popular songs (such as the chorus
210  Martina Vasil
of “Let It go” from Frozen in 2013), and perform dance movements from the videogame
Fortnite, such as “orange justice” and “the hype”.
Cultural rehearsal may be further categorized as a cover or a parody. A cover is a perfor-
mance that replicates or is a variation of an original songs, sometimes occurring in new
musical contexts (Tobias, 2013), such as when children sing parts of songs they know, such
as “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver, “Zoot Suit Riot” by Cherry Pop-
pin’ Daddies, and “Music Makes You Lose Control” by Les Rythmes Digitale (Vasil, 2013).
Covering music can also be considered a homage if the imitation is done in a respectful way
(Willett et al., 2013). However, children may engage in parody, in which the imitation pokes
fun at the material and is more distanced from the original text (Marsh, 2008; Tobias, 2013;
Willett et al., 2013). Parody is evident throughout children’s play to question and subvert
adult culture (Willett et al., 2013). Marsh (2008) provides the example of “One Day You’re
Gunna Get Caught”, a parody 12-year-old boys and girls created blending an advertise-
ment for underpants with a nursery rhyme. In this creation, they aimed “to ridicule the
adult-transmitted sources of this material” (Marsh, 2008, p. 170). Further, “figures from
the media assume a new and different identity within children’s playlore and are retained
as personifications of the adult world that children parody, long after media saturation with
the source material has disappeared” (Marsh, 2008, p. 170). For example, Mickey Mouse
continues to be referenced in children’s play through the oral tradition rather than because
of the reappearance of the character on television. This can also be said of hand-clapping
games that include snippets of popular songs that are not current popular music on the
radio, such as KC and the Sunshine Band’s “That’s the Way (I Like It)” (Vasil, 2013). A
parody may transform into satire if children also begin to comment on society or express
their lived experience through their jest (Tobias, 2013). One example from my study (2013)
reflects aspects of parody in that children were working out on a larger societal issue, such
as dealing with emotions:

Anger Issues
(This involved a boy and girl, and the girl said she made up the words)
Welcome to my candy shop ( five to six claps after speaking the line)
Would you like some ice cream? ( five to six claps after speaking the line)
I feel like I have to punch you ( five to six claps after speaking the line)
Punch! 2, 3, 4 (fake punching)
I have anger issues! (girl shoves boy and chases him)

Lesson Examples
Drawing from the idea of sedimentation/innovation, teachers can provide time for chil-
dren to play with traditional materials to create textual variations. For example, the hand-­
clapping game “ABC” has a section of chanted text that follows a formula. Keeping “Baby
you and me, I wanna fly a kite”, children can start replacing the italicized words with new
rhyming text. Note how the underlined word at the end of the sentence must become the
first word of the next sentence.

Original
Baby you and me
I wanna fly a kite
Kite too high
 Children’s Musical Creativity  211
I wanna touch the sky
Sky too blue
I wanna kiss a moose
Moose too dirty
Wanna ride in a birdie
Birdie too slow
And that’s all I know

Possible Variation
Baby you and me
I wanna fly a kite
Kite too square
I really don’t care
Care too deep
I wanna kiss a sheep
Sheep too silly
Wanna get myself a filly
Filly too short
I wanna billie goat
Traditional materials like hand-clapping games that have onomastic allusion tied to media
culture, such as “Welcome to McDonald’s”,4 are ready-made “hooks” for teachers to make
connections to students’ lives and make lesson extensions that provide time for creative
activities.
Welcome to McDonald’s
May I take your order
Big Mac, special snack,
French fries, apple pie
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!
Teachers may teach this hand-clapping game as an A section, then create a B section of what
the children might order at a fast food restaurant. The entire lesson becomes a rhythmic
exploration of word chains; students create their “orders”, rhythmically chanting the words.
Gestures may also be added to add another element into the final product. A word chain
may look like this: “chick-en nug-gets, chick-en nug-gets, French fries, coke”. Then, the
class can perform a rondo form; the A section is the entire class playing and chanting the
original hand-clapping game, and the alternating sections are each group of children shar-
ing their original word chains and gestures.
Teachers can also have students create new hand-clapping patterns to traditional songs,
chants, or rhymes. This happened naturally in the variations of “Velocity” discussed earlier
and is apparent in the many variations of hand-clap patterns for “Welcome to McDonald’s”
(Powell, 2012). Since there is such a large vocabulary of hand-clap patterns students can
draw upon, teachers can begin with teaching a hand-clapping game, isolating the hand-clap
pattern, mixing up the different components of that pattern as a class, then letting children
create their own.
Taking cultural rehearsal into account, teachers can learn much about students’ pre-
vious knowledge through watching children create at recess and free time and talking
to children during morning duty, class, lunch, or recess about the music and movement
they know and love. Once the children’s repertoire is known, there are many ways
212  Martina Vasil
teachers can work with previous knowledge to craft lesson plans that further and extend
knowledge. For example, teachers may craft lesson plans centered on movement chil-
dren know, such as the emotes from the videogame Fortnite. Emotes are dance moves/
actions the characters can perform in a game. Fortnite is a free, online first-person game
with four different game modes that provide players with different experiences (The
Fortnite Team, 2020). Using a visual, the teacher can review each Fortnite emote (prefer-
ably having students model it if they know it). Using a song with clear changes, such as
“Can’t Stop the Feeling” sung by Justin Timberlake, the teacher leads students through a
movement sequence that changes with the musical form. The teacher asks for input from
students on which emote matches the character of each section best. Together as a class,
a movement composition is created. After that, students go into groups of four to five
to create a new movement sequence. The teacher can then provide time for students to
share their movement composition at the end of class and explain why they chose each
move (Vasil, 2021).
Cultural rehearsal can take many other forms in the classroom. In keeping with the
“songs in their heads” (Campbell, 2010), teachers can create arrangements of songs stu-
dents know for classroom instruments, like how Jimmy Fallon does on The Tonight Show.5
Known jingles or theme songs (like the wrestler John Cena’s theme song) can be in-
spiration for children creating their own jingles or theme songs (Vasil, 2019b). Mash-
ups can combine songs children know like TLC’s “Unpretty” and Beyonce’s “Pretty
Hurts”.6 Children may also consider bringing melodies of songs they know into tradi-
tional hand-clapping games, similar to how “ABC” and “ABC-Hit It” incorporate the
melody of the chorus from The Jackson Five’s “ABC” and KC and the Sunshine Band’s
“That’s the Way (I Like It)”, respectively, and how “Doublemint Gum” uses the melody
from a jingle throughout.
Parody is common in children’s play and may also be explored in the classroom. Consider
the popular song by Billy Eilish, “Bad Guy”, and how the children’s show All That parodied
it, featuring “bad guys” found in media culture, such as Voldemort from the Harry Potter
series and the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz.7 There are many possibil-
ities for children to play with parody, starting with either traditional materials or materials
from media culture. For example, children can use the melody of popular songs and rewrite
the lyrics on a topic they chose, like returning to school.8 Teachers and non-profits have
created resources to help teachers design instruction like this.9
Children can also create music to process emotions and other scenarios they may face
as adults. Engaging in songwriting or writing raps with children can be a powerful and
profound experience for them. This can take on satirical form if irony, sarcasm, and hu-
mor are used to show disagreement, to provide a strong statement on an issue, or to make
a point. Examples from media culture include Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone”, which
displays irony as he sings of a girl who had everything and lost it all; Lorde’s “Royals”,
where she criticizes pop culture through sarcasm; and the Decemberists’ “Everything is
Awful”, which shows humor as an uplifting-sounding song with lyrics that are about how
everything is bad.
Last, teachers may consider more open-ended compositional activities in the classroom,
which provide time for children to explore the music they know and create without pa-
rameters. Having tried this out in my own classroom, I have been pleasantly surprised by
the variety of musical ideas my students created without explicit guidance from me. One
student replicated the main theme from Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” that he learned from
piano lessons to the xylophone. Another created a repetitive rhythmic melody that he was
able to replicate and expand upon over several class periods, offering just one version for a
recording we completed for our end-of-year virtual performance.
 Children’s Musical Creativity  213
Implications for Music Education
Children’s collaborative approach to composition on the playground departs from traditional
approaches to teaching composition in the classroom that tend to follow a more linear path
(e.g., improvisation to a set composition, sometimes notated) and have specific parameters
(i.e., using two-beat duple rhythms, create an eight-beat rhythmic pattern). Understanding
children’s cyclic process of composition, teachers may instead consider encouraging students
to run through compositions, changing a little bit at time, and deciding to keep or reject
the changes. This would require more time and fewer parameters. Understanding that in
the playground, musical products rarely stay the same, it would be important for teachers to
allow flexibility from week to week as students work through compositions.
The collaborative aspect of composition can also be honored in the classroom by allow-
ing students to work in groups. As Green (2006) noted, this kind of group work functions
best when students get to choose who is in their groups. Friendship groups have a shared
vernacular and are more more willing to take risks and create with known members of a
group. Of course, not every class period can be run like this at risk of ostracizing students
who may have friends absent that day or due to other factors. The teacher should always
discern when to step in to ensure all students are having an enjoyable and productive edu-
cational experience.
Collaborative cyclical composition may feel difficult for music educators to facilitate in the
classroom if they have only experienced or have been educated in more teacher-driven mu-
sic approaches. A balance of chaos and structure seems the best way to bring new approaches
like this into the classroom (Vasil, 2019a), so teachers may try interspersing more structured
compositional activities with open-ended ones as I have described, which may feel “chaotic”
in comparison. Assessment may also seem difficult with open-ended compositional activ-
ities. However, rather than just judging a student’s musical product in a summative assess-
ment, teachers can use formative assessments to track students’ progress over time. Students
can share their own goals and reflect on how they think they are progressing as well.
Teachers may be pleasantly surprised at the amount of musical knowledge and skills stu-
dents already have once they allow more time and space for students to musically explore.
Media culture has put complex music in children’s heads—it shapes their musical vocabu-
lary and their musical schemas for creation, and they are reproducing and manipulating it
on the playground. It is important for teachers to pay attention to students’ prior knowl-
edge, understanding the tonal and rhythmic material with which students are familiar
and using that to build upon and expand from, filling in gaps during instruction. “Music,
including music that children produce and prefer, is replete with phonemes and structures
(and repeated melodic and rhythmic patterns) that convey to them, even without words,
a sense of familiarity, safety, and stability” (Campbell, 2010, p. 224). When teachers use
materials from media culture and leverage students’ natural compositional processes from
the playground, students can demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of music through
performance and discussion (Harwood, 1998; Marsh, 2008). Once teachers witness this,
they can have a much better idea of where to take students’ skills and how to further refine
and craft future lessons that will better engage and challenge students to grow musically.
Acknowledging and using students’ prior knowledge and learning processes in the class-
room improves student learning. As Campbell (2010) points out, children learn in three
ways: enculturation (natural learning without formal instruction), partially guided lessons
(informal in that there are no consecutive directives), and highly structured and sequential
lessons. “The first learning type occurs more often outside school than within, the third
more likely within school than on the outside, and the second both in and out of school
settings” (Campbell, 2010, p. 230). By addressing more than one learning process, music
214  Martina Vasil
teachers can optimize instructional time while meeting the needs of all their students in
the music classroom. Doing this also helps students make more connections to class content
and develop deeper relationships with teachers. “Each child brings her unique perspective
to a song or instrumental piece, so that it’s meaning is based on who she is and what her
experience has been” (Campbell, 2010, p. 225). When there is a better classroom culture,
students are more willing to take risks and learn new content with which they are unfamil-
iar. Student learning improves when content is relevant and engaging.

Conclusion
The intersection of children’s traditional playground musicking, creativity, and media culture
reveals much about children’s innert musical tendencies. Children have their own musical for-
mulae and schemas that form a cultural practice that is separate from that of the adult world.
Their hand-clapping games and rhymes are full of syncopation, shifting meters, juxtaposed
meters, singing, and movement, and they are capable of explaining their understanding of mu-
sical form and patterns. Their collaborative, cyclical approach to composition results in endless
variations and inventive musical forms and structures with underlying meaning and themes
tied to media culture, the subversion of adulthood, and other inside jokes and meanings shared
within friend groups. Thus, musicking on the playground may appear more complicated and
creative than what one may see in a music classroom. This may partially be the fault of highly
structured approaches to music education where melodic and rhythmic concepts are organized
sequentially per grade level. Teachers may unintentionally limit children’s capabilities, because
they are not in the correct year or point in the curriculum to address certain musical concepts.
Many still worry about the decline of play in today’s media-saturated world. It is my hope
that after reading this chapter, teachers can be reassured that children have an inherent need
to actively engage in creative musicking. Media culture is another source among many from
which children choose ideas and musical elements to integrate into their play. Most children
are exposed to media culture, and teachers can choose to either engage with or use it to an
educational advantage, or they can choose to continue to use material that does not entirely
connect with their student populations. By acknowledging the media culture children are
attuned to, teachers are acknowledging children’s prior knowledge and often their musi-
cal preferences. Teachers can gain insight about the cultural knowledge that children are
observing and manipulating through observing media influence in children’s playground
practices. By integrating this music and compositional processes into the classroom, a peda-
gogy is adopted that is participatory, less audience driven, and more meaningful to children.
There is great potential in drawing from children’s media knowledge and interest to prompt
creativity and craft educative experiences. A great synergy can be generated when teachers
and children are sharing cultural knowledge between themselves. By being more observant
and opening lines of communication with students, teachers can discover what inspires,
interests, and entertains students to reach their full musical and creative selves.

Questions for Consideration

• Reflecting on your own childhood, what are playground games and chants that you
knew and how did you manipulate or alter them over time?
• What are your thoughts about the role of media culture in music education? Explain.
• To what extent have you seen children incorporate media culture into their traditional
playground musicking (or experienced yourself )?
• Describe any instances you have seen children engage in sedimentation/innovation,
covering, arranging, parodies, or satires.
 Children’s Musical Creativity  215
• Describe any instances of when you have seen children integrate media cultures
through onomastic allusion and/or cultural rehearsal.
• How do you teach composition in the classroom? To what extent do you agree or disa-
gree with the ideas on teaching composition discussed in this chapter and why?
• What are other ways teachers can prompt musical creativity drawing from media cul-
ture and children’s traditional playground musicking?

Notes
1 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8FWy1qXf EY
2 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6JnDMpjwN8
3 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=br9fAi7HdDk
4 see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMkpiLjKWU8
5 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-yL7VP4-kP4
6 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXNLCl45Kis
7 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OpqNAYCpjA
8 See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BFidLOH490
9 See http://simplemusicteaching.com/2018/04/14/parody-project/ and https://www.littlekidsrock.
org/Lesson/Video/Songwriting-005-EducationalParodies.pdf

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ipatory culture. Music Educators Journal, 99(4), 29–36. https://doi.org/10.1177/0027432113483318
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ital media for music education. In C. Randles (Ed.), Music education: Navigating the future (pp. 91–121).
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20 The DAW Revolution
Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz

Recent advances in sound recording technology have revolutionized the way many stu-
dents engage in creative experiences inside and outside of school. Using modern digital
audio workstations (DAWs), students can create music independently and in collaboration
with others, drawing inspiration from their own musical preferences and favorite artists.
DAW, pronounced either as an acronym (rhymes with saw) or as an initialism (D.A.W.), is a
term that describes hardware components (e.g., digital/tape recorders, audio interfaces, and
speakers) and software applications (e.g., GarageBand, Logic, Pro Tools, and Soundtrap).
Mobile-based and “in the box” software DAWs have become more accessible to music stu-
dents than any other acoustic or electronic instrument – as they operate on smartphones,
tablets, Chromebooks, and personal computers. A growing number of public school music
teachers in the United States have integrated DAWs into creative music projects (Burns,
2006; Clauhs et al, 2019; Fick & Bulgren, 2021; Norman, 2021) to facilitate collabora-
tive creative projects that transcend geographical, temporal, institutional, and economic
boundaries.
The field of music education has explored creative opportunities provided through sound
recording technologies for decades. Educators, industry leaders, and scholars at the House-
wright Symposium in 1999 agreed that “music educators should involve the music indus-
try, other agencies, individuals, and music institutions in improving the quality of music
instruction” (Madsen, 2020). More recently, and in reference to tertiary music education,
Burnard notes, “we are starting to value and incorporate creativities, including the nurtur-
ing of community and industry partnerships, in order to bring together the collaborative
and change cultures in ways which recognize creativity as a change agent” (2014, p. 6).
Inspired by the potential of, and need for, such partnerships, the following chapter rep-
resents a collaboration between music industry and music education. The first author of
this chapter is an associate professor of music education, with experience teaching music
technology classes in K-12 settings. The second author of this chapter is an award-winning
recording engineer, currently supporting and teaching music recording technology at the
undergraduate level.
This chapter includes a review of literature on creative applications of DAWs in school
music programs and effective practices for K-12 music educators and music teacher edu-
cators who wish to explore technology, composition, and songwriting through learner-­
centered sound recording projects. We provide a brief history of DAWs and compare options
for workstation configurations, concluding with model projects and activities that follow
­Cayari’s (2020) creative dispositions for online musicking: do-it-yourself, do-it-with-­
others, and do-it-for-others. The goal of this chapter is to examine how DAW technolo-
gies and approaches may help music educators transform classrooms into studio spaces that
leverage the creativity and musical interests of diverse populations of learners within their

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-23
218  Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz
schools, through global partnerships among students, artists, songwriters, and music indus-
try professionals.

A Brief History
Before examining how the DAW has revolutionized music teaching and learning in recent
decades, it may be helpful to look at its evolution from the earliest forms of audio recording
in the 19th century. The following section is a concise history of select sound recording
technologies and early applications in music teaching and learning. This history also pro-
vides context for how DAWs have become increasingly powerful, accessible, portable, and
affordable for school music programs over time. For a more complete history, along with
a much deeper examination of DAW applications, please refer to the scholarship of Adam
Patrick Bell (2015, 2016, 2017) and specifically his book titled Dawn of the DAW: The Studio
as Musical Instrument (2018).
The sound recording timeline presented in Figure 20.1 begins in 1877, when Thomas
Edison invented the phonograph. The operator of this device would speak into a mouth-
piece and the vibrations caused by the voice became etched into a cylinder wrapped in
tinfoil. The recordings were barely audible (“Acoustic Recording,” n.d.), but this invention
marks the origin of audio recording – which would become an essential component of
DAWs. The first forms of music sequencing, arranging notes to be played back in a specific
order, may be traced to 1883, when rolls for player pianos became commercially available.
This moment represents the viability of the music sequencer, and modern DAWs continue
to use the term “piano roll” to describe the type of notation used in digital music sequenc-
ers to this day. Music scholar, and author of The Oxford Companion to Music, Percy Scholes
wrote “All musical educationists of standing are today agreed as to the high value of the
ordinary ‘Pianola’ Roll” (Scholes, 1926), demonstrating the potential of this early sound
recording technology in the field of music education at the turn of the 20th century.
From this point, and through the mid-20th century, we see various incarnations of an-
alogue sound recording. The development of the gramophone was a significant improve-
ment of audio sound recording from Edison’s phonograph (“The Gramophone,” n.d.). This
machine comprises a large conical horn that collects sounds and transmits the vibrations
onto a wax cylinder or vinyl record, to be played back from that same device by reversing
the process. In the early 1900s, engineers developed microphones, signal amplifiers, and

Figure 20.1  Brief history of sound recording.

 The DAW Revolution  219
electrical recorders to transfer those same acoustical vibrations into electricity, also stored
on wax and vinyl. Around this time in 1936, a choral director from Rochester, New York
by the name of Charles Kettering wrote that “recording is the greatest aid to teaching the
20th century has yet produced. It provides at once a definite objective in applied music
study, and the means for determining when that objective has been reached” (Kettering,
1936). Kettering’s article, published in Music Educators Journal, provided teachers with strat-
egies for sound recording in their classrooms, including microphone placement and acoustic
treatments, before describing how sound recording could be used both as an assessment tool
and as a model for students.
The introduction of magnetic tape in the 1940s further contributed to the advancement
of sound recording quality and offered new opportunities for manipulating and combin-
ing recordings. Recording artists could capture multiple versions of themselves through
overdubbing techniques and multitrack recording, creating an entire ensemble from a sin-
gle performer. Magnetic tape led to the development of the four-track cartridge, which
allowed up to four independent and distinct audio sources to be recorded simultaneously.
Over time, recorders were expanded to include more and more tracks. A 1981 issue of Mu-
sic Educators Journal included an article by an audio engineer, Frank Abdoo, outlining the
basic components of an audio workstation and retail prices of recording equipment recom-
mended for school use (mixing consoles, master recorders, mixdown recorders, submixers,
headphones, amplifiers, speakers, and microphones) totaling US$13,000, which is equiva-
lent to $40,000 today. Abdoo (1981) recommended to music teachers that

two tapedecks and a quarter-track copying tapedeck are needed to fulfill the require-
ments for a school studio. The master recorder can be a four-, eight-, sixteen, or
­t wenty-four track deck. While the sixteen-track is desirable, the eight-track is the best
compromise as far as expenses are concerned.
(Abdoo, 1981, p. 59)

For a modern comparison, the free “built-in” DAW for macOS, GarageBand, offers users
32 tracks and the freemium version of the cloud-based DAW Soundtrap has no track limit.
While advancements to analogue sound recording continued throughout the mid-1900s,
computer technology was rapidly developing as well. Members of the Tanglewood Sympo-
sium in 1967 considered the role of computers in student composition techniques. A report
from the Tanglewood Symposium states,

It is also possible now for a student to write or even compose music directly on the
cathode ray face of the terminal of an IBM 2250 using a light pen. The tube has the
ability to display information stored on a disc and the notes drawn on the face may be
transferred to the disc and both instant sound output and hard copy output are available.
(Choate, 1968)

Keep in mind, the IBM 2250 cost US$280,000 in 1964, which is roughly equivalent to $2
million today! Music students can now achieve the same objective, and much more, using
a free DAW on a phone, tablet, or computer. Remember this the next time someone con-
tends modern music technology programs are cost prohibitive.
Sound recording and computer technology intersected again in 1979 with the introduc-
tion of the Fairlight Computer Musical Instrument (CMI). This device was the first DAW
with an embedded sampler, which allowed the user to record audio with a microphone and
trigger a digitized playback of the sound through a synthesizer. Search YouTube for the
title “Herbie Demonstrates the Fairlight CMI on Sesame Street” to watch legendary jazz
220  Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz
pianist/composer Herbie Hancock sharing this technology with a group of young students
in 1983. That same year, an engineer by the name of Dave Smith introduced the musical
instrument digital interface (MIDI) to attendees of the Winter NAMM show in the United
States (Chadabe, 2000). MIDI is a common language commercially released and developed
so that synthesizers, keyboards, and sound generators from all different manufacturers could
synchronize and communicate with one another.
Some of the first computer-based DAWs were Steinberg Cubase and Digidesign’s Sound
Tools (which would later become Pro Tools), both developed in the 1980s. For the first
time, users could edit audio and MIDI through entirely digital processes. The capabilities
for editing and multitrack recording rapidly increased and “in the box” software made
multitrack recording accessible to the public, without the need for large and expensive
hardware components. A decade later, Apple introduced GarageBand, providing consumers
with an audio recorder and a sequencer combined into a user-friendly software application
built directly into the operating system. Most recently, in the past ten years, there has been
enough computing power to use this same technology with cloud-based DAWs hosted
online.
Given the ongoing advances in computer processing speeds, RAM, and software design,
the ability to adjust both audio recordings and performance data (MIDI) without altering
the original file allows teachers, students, musicians, and engineers infinite possibilities to
experiment with sound creation. Like any digital word processing software, adjustments
for corrective, creative, and combination/collage-style changes can be assessed, undone,
redone, copied, pasted, and saved. This is oft referred to as “non-destructive editing,” and
has become a standard feature of any modern DAW.

DAW Configurations
Rapidly evolving technologies have produced a plethora of DAWs, available to students on
mobile devices, tablets, Chromebooks, personal computers, as well as standalone recorders.
Before investing in a DAW configuration, a music teacher or student might consider their
own experience level, limitations of their physical classroom (or home-recording) space,
budget, and the goals of a particular creative project. The following section is designed to
help the reader identify which DAW configuration is appropriate for them by weighing the
pros and cons of each.

Mobile-Based Apps
A recent survey collected by the Pew Research Center found that 96% of young adults
living in the United States had access to at least one smartphone (Perrin, 2020). Consider-
ing that many mobile-based DAW apps (e.g., GarageBand iOS and Soundtrap Studio) are
available for free, a vast majority of students in the United States can easily access a DAW in
their own home. A student using beat-making apps or creating music with software instru-
ments on a mobile device can produce a song that rivals the products of industry standard,
and expensive recording studios for free. The song “PRIDE” by Kendrick Lamar was pro-
duced entirely using an iPhone 6 with a cracked screen running GarageBand and a variety
of other music apps for iOS (Pierce, 2017). A touch screen allows users to physically play a
mobile device like an instrument, as well as trigger loops and samples. Inexpensive audio
interfaces, like the iRig, provide additional options for inputs and outputs to enhance the
quality of audio recording and playback through a smartphone or tablet. The advantages of
using mobile-based apps as a primary DAW configuration in a school setting are low cost,
accessibility, portability, and ease of use. Of course, educators cannot assume that students
 The DAW Revolution  221
will have consistent access to a smartphone, tablet, or Chromebook, and apps may operate
differently on various operating systems. Students may not have access to these personal
devices at school. Using district-owned devices (e.g., Chromebooks, tablets, iPads) would
alleviate some of these challenges.

Standalone Devices
Before “in the box” DAW software became commercially available, tapedeck recorders
allowed users to record, edit, and bounce tracks. Modern multitrack recorders utilize a
hard disk for recording and saving digital files, along with a mixing console and a variety of
audio and MIDI inputs. The obvious benefit of these standalone digital multitrack recorders
is that they do not require a computer with dedicated software. They are less susceptible
to software crashes, incompatible operating system upgrades, or insufficient memory or
processing power. These devices have their own built-in software, which may be updated.
Standalone recorders are reliable, and students can simply plug instruments and microphones
into the device, set recording levels, and record directly to the unit. The downsides of these
devices include the cost, as they tend to be a more expensive alternative to c­ omputer-based
DAWs, and they are limited to the total number of inputs built into the unit. These devices
have far less flexibility than a software DAW in terms of expansion and upgrades.

“In the Box” Computer-Based DAWs

The industry-standard DAWs include Pro Tools, Logic, Reason, Ableton, and FL Studio,
all designed for computer-based operating systems. Computers allow for maximum pro-
cessing power and are infinitely flexible in terms of expansion, configuration, and addi-
tion of external hardware components (e.g., MIDI controllers, processors, and samplers).
Computers allow for more options when working with video and can run multiple DAWs
simultaneously through programs like ReWire. While some computer-based DAWs are ex-
pensive, there are free and low-cost alternatives that are certainly powerful enough for most
school music applications. Audacity is free for Windows and macOS; GarageBand is free
for macOS; and cloud-based options, such as Soundation Studio, Soundtrap, and BandLab,
are free or have a small subscription fee. A computer-based DAW may be comprised of a
single computer with a built-in microphone and headphone, or a computer connected to an
audio interface that supplies additional options for inputs, outputs, and connections to other
processors and devices. A simple low-cost alternative to all this hardware is a USB micro-
phone (e.g., Blue Yeti microphone) which provides a higher quality of sound recording and
zero-latency monitoring through headphones. The advantages of computer-based DAWs
are flexibility and power. Of course, computers with significant processing power can be
expensive, and students may not have access to this equipment at home.

Creating Music with DAWs

Cayari (2020) describes three creative dispositions: DIY disposition (do-it-yourself ), DIWO
disposition (do-it-with-others), and DIFO disposition (do-it-for-others) in relation to crea-
tive online musicking. We will use this same framework to explore creative applications of
DAWs in music education, examining how students can create their own songs, collaborate
with others, and provide services for others through DAW-based school music projects.
Each of the following sections identifies characteristics of Cayari’s DIY, DIWO, and DIFO
creative dispositions and presents DAW projects from the field of K-12 and college-level
music programs.
222  Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz
Creative DIY Projects
Cayari explains “a DIY-disposition is cultivated through a sense of empowerment that the
Internet and easy-to-use (or at least learnable) technologies can bring to a musician’s life”
(2020, p. 6). The advancement of user-friendly and affordable DAWs has certainly contrib-
uted to a DIY mentality for many musicians. A DIY artist can easily record, edit, and mix
multiple versions of themselves through multitrack recording to create an entire ensemble.
Virtually anyone with a smartphone can be a DIY artist, as Walzer notes, “DAWs give
artists a plethora of virtual instruments, loops, synthesis techniques and mixing capabilities
to incorporate in their workflow. The free and inexpensive choices for DAWs lower the
barrier of entry for artists” (Walzer, 2020, p. 80). Social media, and specifically YouTube
and TikTok, provides a platform for DIY artists to share and promote their creative work.
Search YouTube for the names of the most popular DIY artists, including Jacob Collier,
Nick Pitera, and Georgia Merry, to watch these artists perform original arrangements of
jazz standards, popular music, and songs from movie soundtracks. Collier often creates mul-
tiple instrumental tracks to accompany his one-person vocal ensembles. Much like Collier,
a student with a creative DIY disposition may view themselves as a hyphenated musician
(Tobias, 2012), meaning they have overlapping identities as songwriters, vocalists, instru-
mentalists, and mix engineers and producers.
When the COVID-19 pandemic required social distancing and isolation, many artists
leveraged DIY techniques to continue their craft. Comedian/musician Bo Burnham spent
one year in home isolation recording a comedy special for Netflix, titled “Inside.” Burn-
ham created the Netflix special entirely on his own, using a DAW (Logic Pro X) and video
editing software (Final Cut Pro). His DIY project received several Emmy awards, including
outstanding music direction, outstanding writing, and outstanding directing for a variety
special. Burnham’s special is a powerful example of the potential of a DIY disposition.
The proliferation of user-created content online has escalated the volume of DIY DAW
projects in recent years, but the fundamental technique of cloning oneself through multi-
track recording dates back to the 1940s. Adam Patrick Bell noted that

Les Paul is the oft-cited trailblazer of DIY recording… He sped up his recorded guitar
riffs and solos to create new timbres played at superlative speeds, and seemed to defy the
laws of time by accompanying himself on guitar, or having his wife Mary Ford, sing
with herself using a technique he coined ‘sound-on-sound’.
(2018, p. 11)

The “sound-on-sound” technique that Les Paul pioneered in the 1940s and YouTubers and
TikTokers have advanced in recent years provides an opportunity for music students who
wish to create their own ensembles, compositions, and arrangements independently from
others – having complete control over all aspects of the creative process.
Even the youngest music students are likely consumers of online content, particularly
through YouTube or YouTube Kids (the latter being a child-friendly contained environ-
ment within YouTube). Music students can replicate the projects made by content creators
they admire through school music assignments. One music teacher, Brian Franco, teaches
his students in Skaneateles, New York how to create their own multitrack videos like those
created by Jacob Collier and other YouTubers. He calls this a “9-Square Project” referring
to a panel of nine video frames, all featuring student clones. While his students often create
vocal covers of popular songs, Franco explains how directors can support ensemble goals
through a nine-square project as well, writing “a high school trombonist might learn all
four parts of a trombone quartet, or a choral student with a good range could learn and
 The DAW Revolution  223
sing all four parts of an arrangement” (Clauhs et al., 2019, p. 57). The first author of this
chapter uses multitracking projects to assess his instrumental methods students’ abilities to
play secondary instruments in the music education program at Ithaca College. Visit https://
youtu.be/Hm_NyqG5its to see a student, Alec Staples, perform an original arrangement
of Olivia Rodrigo’s “good 4 u” on a variety of woodwind instruments. Like Bo Burnham,
Alec recorded each part using Logic and then edited the video with Final Cut Pro as a final
assignment for a graduate class titled Advanced Instrumental Techniques: Woodwinds.
DIY film score projects provide another opportunity for students to create music inde-
pendently with a DAW. Students could shoot their own video or download existing video
content to provide inspiration for their original compositions. Many DAWs include a video
player allowing the user to create music in a project timeline that corresponds to video play-
back. In the textbook, “Making Music with GarageBand and Mixcraft,” authors Hodson,
Frankel, Stein, and McCready (2010) provide readers with a set of videos and instructions
for how to independently create film scores using DAWs. The text includes several other
DIY projects for GarageBand and Mixcraft, as well as thorough guidelines for navigating
GarageBand and Mixcraft.

Creative DIWO Projects

Much musical content, whether shared through individual social media platforms or major
record labels, is created in collaboration with others. Cayari (2020) points to Catlow and
Garrett’s (2007) definition of DIWO (do-it-with-others), explaining that this disposition
means “exploring the potential to share visions, resources and agency, through collabo-
ration and negotiation, across physical and virtual networks” (pp. 27–28). Multitrack re-
cording, a fundamental component of DAWs, provides opportunities for DIWO work in
both synchronous and asynchronous settings, as individual music students contribute to a
group project at a time, and in a space, that is convenient. Online file-sharing platforms
(e.g., Dropbox, Google Drive) may be combined with DAW projects to allow DIWO col-
laborators to share high-quality audio recordings and project notes. Virtual networks allow
DIWO students to engage with partners outside of their classroom walls (Clauhs, 2020;
Cremata & Powell, 2017). Online communities transcend both time and space, provid-
ing the maximum amount of flexibility and unlimited options for collaborative partners.
They are also essential to creativity in the modern era, as Burnard writes, “building online
communities is a fundamental part of the social interaction of developing new creativities”
(2014, p. 4).
School DIWO projects may leverage current trends in technology and social media. Al-
though TikTok is not a traditional DAW, the duet feature of this popular app allows users
to engage in asynchronous multitrack recording. A music teacher in Spackenkill, New
York, Holden Maiorana, invites his students to demonstrate musical objectives by record-
ing TikTok videos independently (DIY) or in collaboration with a partner (DIWO). His
students select musical challenges from a large menu of choices and collaborate with one an-
other through this familiar platform. TikTok duets provide another opportunity for cross-­
institutional and school/university partnerships, or even student/industry collaborations.
While not a part of a school assignment, a student at Ithaca College independently recorded
a “songwriting challenge: secret edition” on TikTok, to which Lil Nas X participated using
the duet feature (Hill, 2021). This example demonstrates the potential of DIWO collabo-
rations to connect students with outside partners and professionals in the music industry.
The chapter titled “Creating spaces for Songwriters, Collaborators and Musicians in Higher
Education” by Radio Cremata and Jonathan Kladder in this volume further examines these
types of outside collaborative opportunities in songwriting classes.
224  Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz
DIWO projects may also be synchronous, with real-time collaborations taking place in
home or school studios. DAWs allow multiple artists to record simultaneously together at
once, or track separately but in the same physical space within a single session. Bell (2018)
explains that work in a DIWO studio may resemble the processes of DIY projects, but
DIWO artists leverage the specialized skill set of peers “whose expertise exceeds their own”
(p. 189). These projects may run more efficiently, as the knowledge required of a single
DIYer to carry through all elements of a production (from songwriting to mixing and mas-
tering) may slow down the creative process.
Brian Franco sought to replicate the collaborative nature of DIWO studios with his high
school Music Industry classes in Weedsport, NY. Students in these classes assumed various
roles within the industry, according to their own preferences and skill sets. Inspired by
Franco’s DIWO disposition to songwriting and music production, the first author created
a record label in his high school music technology program, with students assuming the
roles of songwriters and artists, collaborating with “producers” who were undergraduate
music education students at a partnering university (Clauhs, 2020). DIWO projects lend
themselves to school/university partnerships, in which each provides a service and comple-
mentary skill set to the other, and contribute equally to the final product. Preservice music
teachers can learn about facilitation (Cremata, 2017) and the role of music teacher as pro-
ducer (Randles, 2012) while K-12 school students develop their own creative musicianship
under the guidance of their university partners.
While DAWs are most often used in sound recording and music production settings,
students can create and perform music together using DAWs as live instruments in an en-
semble setting as well. “Touch” is one example of an iPad ensemble, using GarageBand
instruments in a live setting, at the University of South Florida (TedX Talks, 2014). The
director of Touch, David Williams, explains,

We are iPadists. We play music from a diverse range of styles, including arrangements
of classical music, covers of rock songs, and original music written specifically for the
unique musical capabilities of the iPad. We also model a pedagogical technique that is
very different from the traditional band/choir/orchestra paradigm.
(2014, p. 93)

DAW-based ensembles provide a group making-music experience, outside of the studio,

that could appeal to students less interested in the existing ensembles of band, orchestra,
and choir. GarageBand instruments (or similar DAW-based virtual instruments) are also
more accessible for students unable to physically hold and perform traditional electronic
or acoustic instruments (Darrow, 2015; Devito, 2017; Nelson, 2013), providing more op-
portunities for students who have historically been marginalized or excluded from school
ensemble programs.

Creative DIFO Projects

The do-it-for-others creative disposition has existed since the origins of sound recording, as
audio engineers with a unique skill set to operate complex workstations have long provided
a service to musicians less qualified to record their own projects. Cayari (2020) explains
the “for” in DIFO, “should connote service, which allows people to use their expertise
to contribute to a community” (p. 11). Most recently, in school music settings, the DIFO
disposition may be seen in the works of virtual ensembles, such as Eric Whitacre’s choirs,
which collected recordings from participants to be synchronized and arranged by an expert
producer. Cayari (2020) notes that the difference between DIWO and DIFO is that the
 The DAW Revolution  225
participants in a collective virtual ensemble aren’t really performing together or working
together to create the final product. Instead, the creative work is assembled by a single
producer or team of producers. A school music program that has a single DAW (perhaps,
in a recording studio) may be well suited for DIFO projects, as students learn to engineer
sessions as a service for other students.
One of the leading choral directors in the United States, Janet Galván, applied a DIFO
disposition to her premiere ensembles at Ithaca College during the COVID-19 pandemic.
When it was impossible to safely gather in person, Galván collaborated with the first author
to produce virtual choirs.1 Instead of having a single engineer edit the performances to-
gether, a group of music education students learning to use a DAW (Soundtrap) worked to-
gether to synchronize and edit the recordings of their peers in the choirs (Galván & Clauhs,
2021). The engineers made creative decisions throughout the editing process while learning
how to use DAWs to serve their school community. This project was asynchronous partly
because students were navigating difficult online course schedules for the first time at home,
but also because real-time collaboration was impeded by significant latency issues (i.e.,
students could not perform at the same time due to delay in signal processing). However,
cloud-based DAWs are edging closer to a time in which simultaneous music recording from
distant locations is possible and practical. For example, Soundtrap currently has a “collab-
oration” button, which allows two users to record two individual tracks in real time from
separate locations – but it is marketed primarily as a tool for recording interviews, rather
than musical performances because of latency.
Crowdsourcing may be another avenue for DIFO projects (Cayari, 2020). Music stu-
dents could solicit recordings from performers in their school district, a partnering school,
or the community, to arrange together into a new creative product. Burnard identifies
how YouTube may be used for “pooling talent and downloading free audio feeds without
having to call auditions locally and pay for professional talent to make a recording” (2012,
p. 229). In one crowdsourcing project, preservice instrumental music educators at Ithaca
College invited elementary school band students from Arizona, Michigan, and New York,
to record two-measure improvisations in the key of Bb at a designated tempo marking. The
preservice teachers used GarageBand to organize those improvisations into larger works for
beginning band – creating a collective ensemble featuring the improvisations and recorded
excerpts of beginning band students around the country (Clauhs, 2019). There is a tremen-
dous opportunity to engage music technology students in the process of recording, editing,
and documenting performances of a school music program, demonstrating a DIWO dis-
position that benefits all parties. Schools may consider creating a student record label that
records, produces, and publishes recordings of school concerts.

Conclusion
Music students engaged in DIY, DIWO, and DIFO projects can use DAW to create new
music that reflects their own musical interests, rather than the preferences of their teachers
and ensemble directors. DAWs may be seen as a vehicle for creative work, and students
should be encouraged to move beyond learning how to use this technology and toward
creative applications of it. As new DAWs are designed and released, educators must take care
to focus on the pedagogical approaches to teaching with technology, and not becoming an
expert on a single app or “in the box” DAW. Students may find different DAW applications
to be useful to achieve their own goals, so flexibility should be allowed to maximize the
creative potential of school projects.
Technology may struggle to find a more prominent place in school music programs
in the United States, which have historically centered ensembles as the primary form of
226  Matthew Clauhs and Brian Dozoretz
musicianship. However, Tobias (2013) and other scholars have asserted that recording, engi-
neering, and mixing are a necessary part of contemporary musicianship – as clearly demon-
strated by the volume of user-created musical content on YouTube and TikTok. Creative
DAW activities, whether completed independently or in collaboration with others, allow
for musical crossfades (Tobias, 2015), which are connections between school music and the
artist-students’ personal lives. New opportunities for creative work, facilitated by DAWs,
could increase engagement and attract a greater number of school music students, especially
those less interested in band, orchestra, and choir.

Questions for Consideration

1 How might different DAW configurations lead to different creative outcomes? Which
configurations are best suited for independent projects versus collaborative ones?
2 What kind of classes might be designed, or reimagined, to allow for musical creativity
through DIY, DIWO, and DIFO projects?
3 Synchronous online collaboration through DAWs will soon be a reality (i.e., students
would be able to record themselves and hear distant collaborators in real time). How
will this benefit creative collaborations between music students and outside partners?

Note
1 See the result of this DIWO collaboration at https://www.ithaca.edu/academics/school-music/
live/2019–2020-archive/05112020-treble-chorale-and-choir-virtual-videos

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21 Through the Lens of Collaborative
Creativity
Examining Compositional Processes in a
GarageBand Activity Based on Group Assignment
Samuel Holmes

GROUP MEMBER 1:  “We could use this for the ending.”
Group listens to sound sample
GROUP MEMBER 2:  “Oh, that sounds cool!”
GROUP MEMBER 3:  “Should we do a fade out at the end?”
GROUP MEMBER 1:  “Let’s see…”

Group watches Member 1 activate fade out feature 7 measures from the end
GROUP MEMBER 3:  “Perfect timing.”
GROUP MEMBER 2:  “We still need something for [measures] 25 and 26…”

In this vignette, a group of fourth-grade students were co-authoring, as a means of collab-

orative creativity, to form a digital composition using the GarageBand application. Taken
from the study that will be presented in this chapter, these students were allowed to select
their groupmates to complete a creative activity. In this particular conversation, group
members were trying to find the perfect ending to complete their final product. While this
group was successful in this specific example, how did they perceive working together to
create this music? How did they perceive a digital means to creative collaboration?
Integral to the understanding of collaborative creativity is its grounding in “shared re-
sponsibility, which comprehends the actual practices as resulting in joint creative endeav-
ors” (Burnard & Haddon, 2015, p. 14). It is through this shared responsibility that ideas are
formed jointly, where experimentation through negotiation methods is vital. The collective
decision-making process stems from unique contributions of the individual creators from
within a collective (Sawyer, 2012).
According to Burnard (2012), “musical creativities require the dynamic interaction of
several dimensions” (p. 230). This notion frames musical creativities as a pluralistic form,
rejecting its origins of singularity. As is the case in this study, the intersectionality of col-
laborative and digital creativity frames collective decision-making through a technological
mediating modality, in this instance, GarageBand.
Collaborative practices of creativity have been incorporated frequently through crea-
tive activities (Coulson & Burke, 2013). Ninety-four percent of surveyed music educators
rated creativity as an essential component in music instruction (Fairfield, 2010), under-
stood through compositional and improvisational activities. More recently, the influx of
digital technologies has changed the way that creativities in the classroom are approached
(­ Webster, 2016).
Integral to the practice of collaborative creativity is the creative process itself, in terms
of social interactions and communicative forms. Research concerning social interactions
in traditional creative activities has focused primarily on compositional processes (Stauffer,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-24
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  229
2001; Wiggins, 1994) and forms of communication (Hopkins, 2015; MacDonald, Miell, &
Mitchell, 2002; Wiggins, 2000). Processes in digital collaborative composition have also
been researched (Dillon, 2003, 2004; Gall & Breeze, 2008; Hewitt, 2008; Savage, 2005;
Sawyer, 2006, 2014).
While the incorporation of collaborative practices in digital creativities has been estab-
lished, the nature of how children are grouped remains non-standardized in structure. This
structure typically consists of groups assigned randomly, assigned by musical experience,
or given the freedom to self-select friendship groups. The purpose of this study is to ex-
amine the differences in group assignment in a collaborative digital compositional activity.
More specifically, what are the observed processes that students exhibit when composing in
groups? What are their perceptions in relation to their specific groupings, as well as the use
of a digital platform? And, are there differences in the nature of their interactions based on
their respective groupings?

Exploring Collaborative and Digital Creativities

Collaborative work has been readily used in elementary and secondary school settings,
through general music practices and performance-based ensembles. Unique to collabora-
tive composition is the importance of individual ideas to the collaborative effort (Faulkner,
2003; Sawyer, 2012). Group members negotiate individual ideas in an effort to create a final
collective product. This negotiation process produces a shared understanding of the overall
collaborative effort.
Examining processes that children exhibit through creative activities is important in
understanding the musical development of children (Stauffer, 2001). According to Kratus
(1989), this process typically begins with some form of exploration, where the discovery of
sound ultimately shifts into the development of creative ideas. In some cases, creative ideas
are formed before exploration begins, as Wiggins (1994) found when examining peer inter-
actions in collaborative composition. Results from her study indicated that student groups
developed a predetermined holistic idea of what the finished compositional product might
be, suggesting that ideas were intentionally planned from the onset of composing.
There are additional considerations in collaborative work when technology guides the
creative process. Digital interfaces play an important role in explorative practices. Further,
these considerations may have implications on student perceptions of group work, as well as
on how creative groupings are structured.

Digital Compositional Processes in Creative Activities

Creative processes in digital collaborative composition emphasize the importance of ex-
plorative practices (Dillon, 2003). The communicative dialogue of groupmates is integral
to the discovery of compositional processes. Forms of communication, such as verbal dia-
logues and non-verbal, musical gestures, are essential in determining exploratory behaviors.
Dillon (2003) conducted a series of studies to examine the collaborative processes of dig-
ital composition, specifically analyzing the nature of dialogue. Through verbal utterances
and non-verbal cues, participants achieved a shared understanding of the compositional
task. Integral to the success of this task was the processes of discovery and exploration.
Exploration in digital collaborative composition can be quite complex. Often, processes
can take place within the scope of exploration (Dillon, 2004). Such processes pertain to
the discovery of sampled sounds, followed by reflection and the editing of selected sam-
pled sounds. Throughout this process, ultimate decisions in creative music making can be
made.
230  Samuel Holmes
Exploration of sound can often be the dominant process in digital collaborative compo-
sition. Charissi and Rinta (2014) explored the musical and social behaviors of p­ rimary-aged
students using compositional software that allowed participants to select musical ele-
ments and patterns based on colorful, non-traditional visual representations. While three
processes emerged (Sound Exploration, planning of musical choices, and assessment of
musical choices), Sound Exploration was the dominant process in music making. Further-
more, interactions within group members revealed several types of verbal and non-verbal
communication.
Visual representations in digital compositional programs can also provide a shared space
in the negotiation process of music meaning through creative endeavors. In terms of collab-
oration, Gall and Breeze (2008) discovered that the foundation of students’ communication
was based on the visual representation of the computer display. Such representations were
visually appealing through colors, shapes, and overall design.
The use of sound generation in compositional activities through digital composition
can be developed at a more rapid pace than traditional composition. Savage (2005) con-
ducted a comparative case study to observe how students composed through technology.
According to Savage, “the ease of access into sound ‘worlds’ and the manipulative and
transformational power of [technology] allows for these ideas to be quickly developed
and realized” (p. 173). The importance of exploration as the initial process to digital
composing was crucial, as children needed “an opportunity to play with and explore
sounds with the new technologies being used” (p. 175). Subsequently, the development
of ideas occurred, where group members ultimately rejected or improved upon compo-
sitional ideas.

GarageBand as a Creating Tool

As a standard feature on the iPad tablet (Randles, 2013; Williams, 2014), GarageBand has
become readily available to children everywhere. Access to GarageBand has made an al-
ready existing impact across music education fields, particularly in compositional activities
(Ankney, 2012). Ankney offers a detailed description of the popular application:

GarageBand offers an array of composition possibilities for individuals of many dif-

fering ability levels. Like other sequencer programs, GarageBand allows musicians to
record directly into the interface. A novice can compose using loops (repeated motives)
or a MIDI keyboard, while an experienced musician can compose music using all of the
notational features: loops, standard notation, and recorded clips. Users can also create
loops to be saved and used as needed.
(p. 19)

Applying GarageBand as the creative device can motivate children to develop a positive
self-concept and increased satisfaction in composition (Bolton, 2008).
Using GarageBand for composition, Cape (2014) explored the potential of technology as
a means to encourage student agency and creativity. Findings revealed that both the crea-
tive process and the final compositional products were unique to each student, stemming
from their own musical ideas and preferences. With its vast array of sound choices, using
GarageBand as a facilitation tool can create meaningful musical experiences, producing a
strong sense of agency in students. Additionally, Bolton (2008) discovered that children’s
attempts at composition became increasingly innovative through exploration, positively
perceiving the technological approach to compositional learning.
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  231
Students’ Perceptions in Collaborative Composition
Attitudes of students in collaboration have been investigated through traditional and dig-
ital creative activities. In the traditional style, classroom instruments have been used in
elementary school settings (Faulkner, 2003; Kaschub, 1999) as well as performance-based
ensembles (Hopkins, 2015; Randles & Stringham, 2013).
Students in elementary school settings perceived collaborative composition as an effective
way of music making. In Faulkner’s (2003) investigation, students’ perceptions spanned
across compositional processes and products in the context of social interactions and stu-
dent agency. Results indicated positive attitudes of students toward composition and un-
derstanding music. Students valued musical input from individual group members, as each
participant generated a variety of musical ideas in a collective composition activity.
In a secondary, performance-based setting, Hopkins (2015) found a high level of enjoy-
ment and satisfaction from students in group composition. Analysis revealed a strong corre-
lation between positive student perceptions and compositional product scores. This finding
indicated the importance of student attitudes on the quality of compositional products.
The use of technological devices in collaborative composition can enhance the creative
process as a new resource to create music through ready-made music materials (Crow,
2006). Examples of this new material consist of DJ remix software, loop-based sequenc-
ers, and musical accompaniment generators. These technological options can offer creative
choices that traditional forms do not possess. The use of technology, then, can heighten the
engagement of students in creative activities, enhancing their overall perceptions of collab-
orative composition (Kim, 2013).
Specific to the GarageBand application, students have perceived its interface positively in
research studies. Students expressed that the use of GarageBand in creative activities pro-
vided a positive self-concept and a strong sense of self-confidence in compositional abilities,
especially to those that lacked musical knowledge (Bolton, 2008; Cape, 2014). This increase
in confidence could be attributed to the wide variety of sound choices that the interface of-
fered. Cape (2014) described how the use of GarageBand in collaborative decision-making
was meaningful in the instruction of musical elements:

Participants were both aware of and able to make musical decisions about phrasing,
tempo, timbre, texture, dynamics, and affect. Because those concepts were encoun-
tered and applied organically in the project of creating music rather than isolated and
approached artificially through a particular lesson, the students experienced a greater
sense of satisfaction and ownership of their knowledge.
(p.14)

This heightened gratification of collaboration was also reflected by the students’ eagerness
to share their respective products.

Collaborative Groupings
While explorative and communicative practices are central to understanding digital col-
laborative activities, the nature of group selection can be just as significant. Music educa-
tors will commonly assign groups through student choice, typically through friendship or
common musical interests, or random assignment (Burland & Davidson, 2001; MacDonald,
Miell, & Mitchell, 2002; MacDonald, Miell & Morgan, 2000).
Allowing students to select their own groupings in collaborative compositional activities
may have meaningful effects on their social interactions (Burland & Davidson, 2001), which
232  Samuel Holmes
has “the potential to create an effective working environment, with good interactions. . .
to produce high quality results” (p. 47). Children who have experience working together
can promote a shared understanding, in an effort to generate more musical ideas among
groupmates (Wiggins, 2000). Researchers found that allowing children to select their own
groupmates can have meaningful effects on the processes and products of creative activities
(Charissi & Renta, 2014; Hewitt, 2008; MacDonald, Miell, & Mitchell, 2002; MacDonald,
Miell, & Morgan, 2000).
This mixed-method study is designed to uncover differences in group assignment, spe-
cific to student-selected and researcher-selected groupings. These differences are analyzed
through observing group processes exhibited in a collaborative, digital composition activ-
ity. Further questions are explored: what are students’ perceptions related to their group
assignment? How is technology perceived in group composing?

Method
Sample/Participant Selection
This study was conducted at an independent school located in a major urban city in the
Southeastern region of the USA. The school serves 382 students, ranging from three-year-
olds to seventh grade. The target participant population for this study consisted of two
classes of fourth-grade (n = 40) students. As part of the school’s technology plan, all students
attending the school were assigned iPads at the beginning of the school year.

Procedures
The two classes that comprised the sample were intact, heterogeneous classes. Participants
in the first class (n = 20) were assigned to groups by the researcher, totaling six assigned
groups, ranging from three to four participants in each group. This class was referred to as
Researcher Groups (RG). In the second class (n = 20), participants were given the freedom
to create their own groupings, totaling seven groups, ranging from two to four participants
per group. This class was referred to as Student Groups (SG).
Data collection for this study took place over the course of three consecutive general
music class sessions for each grouping. In the class period before the study, the researcher
explained and modeled operational procedures for navigating GarageBand. Students were
then allowed time to individually explore the interface, in an effort to make them more
comfortable with operating procedures. For the compositional activity, the researcher as-
signed one student-issued iPad to each group to be used for the composition activity. The
collaborative groups were asked to compose a piece of music in GarageBand, only re-
questing that the compositional piece have a clear beginning and a clear ending (Morgan,
Hargreaves, & Joiner, 2000). Participants were given 60 minutes to complete the activity.
Cameras were placed in various sections of the classroom to capture group collaborations.
Student interviews occurred shortly after the completion of the activity.

Data Sources
Participant Observation
Four groups from each class were selected for audio/visual recording. The primary purpose
of participant observation was to examine the nature of students’ interactions, with spe-
cific regard to compositional processes. Data related to students’ compositional processes
were time analyzed and correlated with the students’ respective group assignments. The
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  233
time analysis yielded a percentage of researcher-observed compositional processes for each
group, which was analyzed and compared to group assignments. The time analysis protocol
was similar to Kratus’ (1989) study of children’s compositional processing, where composi-
tional processes were identified and timed during participant observation.

Student Interviews
Ten student interviews (five per class) were conducted at the close of the activity. This
allowed for elaboration of the activity resulting in a description of students’ perceptions
of working together and gathered insights related to participants’ interactions during the
activity.

Results
Identified Compositional Processes
Video observations were reviewed and analyzed to determine various compositional pro-
cesses employed during the technology-mediated activity. The following compositional
processes were observed, along with descriptions that defined how each process was deter-
mined in the time analysis.

• Sound Exploration: Group explores sound sources in GarageBand. The Sound Explo-
ration is not recorded into composition.
• Compositional Development: Group explores sound sources in GarageBand. Group
decides that sound selection will be recorded into composition. This process ends when
group begins to record.
• Selection/revision: Group begins to record selected sound source. The source is then
revised through editing and/or re-recording of selected sound.
• Cumulative Review: Group edits/revises composition as a whole entity, revising all
sound sources. This is different from the Selection/Revision process, which only re-
vises a singular sound source from the Compositional Development process.

Each process was observed and recorded in seconds by the researcher. The number of sec-
onds for each process was totaled and then converted to minutes and seconds. Table 21.1
outlines each process by group.
Independent t-tests were performed to determine any statistical significance between
groups in observed compositional processing. Means were analyzed in seconds. In Sound

Table 21.1  Time devoted to observed compositional processes by group (minutes:seconds)

Group Sound Exploration Compositional Selection/Revision Cumulative Review

Development

RG1 5:05 33:23 14:48 8:24

RG2 5:37 20:09 21:28 14:41
RG3 5:23 13:11 25:38 18:34
RG4 16:39 9:29 19:40 14:47
SG1 23:28 19:02 12:12 5:12
SG2 18:33 7:00 26:17 5:13
SG3 32:23 7:25 9:55 23:40
SG4 3:29 23:34 20:16 25:31

Note. RG= Researcher-Selected Groups; SG= Student-Selected Groups

234  Samuel Holmes
Exploration (SE), results indicated that time devoted to Sound Exploration of RG par-
ticipants (M  =  491.00, SD = 306.57) over SG participants (M = 682.65, SD = 682.65),
t(16.93) = –2.89, p = .01) was statistically significant. Levene’s test indicated unequal vari-
ances (F = 6.10, p = .02), so degrees of freedom were adjusted from 23 to 16.93. In Com-
positional Development (CD), results indicated no significant difference in time devoted
to Compositional Development of RG participants (M = 1143.00, SD = 571.44) over SG
participants (M = 898.23, SD = 460.49), t(23) = 1.18, p = .25. In Selection/Revision (S/R),
results indicated no significant difference in time devoted to Selection/Revision of RG
participants (M = 1223.50, SD = 243.57) over SG participants (M = 1044.31, SD = 394.49),
t(20.2) = 1.38, p =.18. Levene’s test indicated unequal variances (F = 7.809, p = .01), so
degrees of freedom were adjusted from 23 to 20.2. In Cumulative Review (CR), results
indicated no significant difference in time devoted to Cumulative Review of RG partici-
pants (M = 846.50, SD = 228.65) over SG participants (M = 943.00, SD = 609.01), t(15.55)
= –.53, p = .60. Levene’s test indicated unequal variances (F = 89.52, p = .00), so degrees
of freedom were adjusted from 23 to 15.55.

Process Descriptions
Participants offered descriptions of working together to create their respective digital com-
positions. These descriptions can be linked to the formal compositional processes that were
observed in the time analysis. Interview participants were given pseudonyms, which were
reflected with corresponding quotations.
Several participants in the researcher groups (RG) portrayed Sound Exploration as ran-
domly selecting sounds that eventually formed a coherent song. In the words of Tom, “we
tried different things and ended up deleting a lot.” Participants in the student groups (SG) ap-
proached exploration in a more organized fashion. In Susan’s group, Sound Exploration nat-
urally developed into a theme, or the beginning of Compositional Development: “We played
around a little bit with strings…and we found the sequence bass that we could add onto it,
and eventually it stated to come into a slow rock song.” Arnold’s (RG) approach was to take
music that group had already incorporated, and exploring sound sources to add to the piece:

Well, we just play music. If it sounded good, we would record it, and if it went with
the [existing] music, we would keep it. If it didn’t go with it, we would delete it and
try and different one.

Arnold went on to say, “I just thought of a tune that would match a rhythm and we put it
in to see it matched the whole song.” Arnold’s description of selecting sound sources was
part of the overall Compositional Development of his group’s song, as he described building
upon existing ideas. Deb’s (SG) group gauged the style of their entire group composition
based on the first sound selection. According to Deb, “after we put down the first instru-
ment, I kind of figured out what the song was going to be a little bit like.”
Several participant utterances were observed during the compositional process. These
utterances were most prevalent during the Selection/Revision process, where the sounds
from group exploration were physically recorded into the piece. In many cases, participants
gave verbal approval to sound additions: “oh, that sounds cool,” and “everybody, I need a
high-5 for that!” In other cases, group members would disapprove a newly added sound:
“what you did with the drums doesn’t sound right to me,” and “I told you, it’s off timing!”
As a whole entity, the Cumulative Review process would require multiple playbacks to
gain group approval. To Liz, the overall revision of the composition required that it “had
to be edited a lot and make sure that it was organized.”
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  235
Throughout all compositional processes observed, negotiation was crucial for overall
sound selection. Participants’ descriptions of negotiation portrayed helping each other
throughout the process, in an effort to incorporate as many individual ideas as possible.
Matt’s group considered all individual musical suggestions, and which ones would be the
most beneficial for the song: “We looked at possible things that we could make and we
had all our ideas. We thought of which ones sounded the best for the specific song . . .
the type of song that we wanted.” For Marco and his group, negotiation was determining
which instrumental sounds were most appropriate once a theme had been decided. Accord-
ing to Marco, “we all kind of decided on what theme it was going to be and we helped
each [other] decide what instrument would go well with what we already had.” Verbal
utterances were also observed as negotiating codes, as participants worked through the
­decision-making process together: “We could use this for the ending,” and “should we do
a fadeout at the end?”

Discussion
Analysis revealed four processes that were observed in how student groups were engaging
in the GarageBand activity: Sound Exploration, Compositional Development, Selection/
Revision, and Cumulative Review. During Sound Exploration, group members explored
sounds in GarageBand. Sound choices explored during this process were not incorporated
into the composition. Researcher-selected groups (RG) spent 13% of their compositional
time in Sound Exploration, while student-selected groups (SG) spent 29% in the same pro-
cess. While Compositional Development was still exploratory in nature, the sound sources
selected by group members were ultimately deemed appropriate for recording. RG spent
31% of their compositional time in Compositional Development, while SG spent 22% in
the same process. In Selection/Revision, group members recorded the previously selected
sound source into the composition. Participants revised the selected sound source during
this process. RG spent 33% of their compositional time in Selection/Revision, while SG
spent 26% in the same process. In Cumulative Review, group members reviewed and re-
vised all sound sources collectively, as a complete compositional entity. RG and SG spent
the same amount of time in Cumulative Review at 23%. Figure 21.1 shows the mean per-
centage of time used by groups in observed compositional processes.
When examining collaborative compositional processes, prior researchers have observed
some form of exploratory processing (Charissi & Renta, 2014; Hopkins, 2019; Savage,
2005; Veloso, 2017). In this study, however, exploration spanned more than one categorized

Figure 21.1  Mean percentage of compositional processes by group.

Note. SE = Sound Exploration, CD = Compositional Development, S/R = Selection/Revision, and CR = Cumu-
lative Review.
236  Samuel Holmes
process. Sound Exploration was true to the investigative nature of exploring sound sources
in GarageBand. The Compositional Development process, while still exploratory in de-
scription, was more focused on discovering sounds that were deemed appropriate for the
composition by group members. The use of the GarageBand interface may have played a
part in this transition in discovering sound sources that would ultimately be used in the
compositional product. Students needed “an opportunity to play with and explore sounds
with . . . technologies being used” (Savage, 2005, p. 175). Charissi and Renta (2014) de-
scribed how their participants’ exploration of sounds developed into more structured, com-
positional ideas with continued use of the interface:

… the level of [the participants’] reaction was more advanced, which means that chil-
dren were responding to groups of musical sounds and the relationships between them
rather than on isolated sounds. These indications of children’s advanced behaviors could
probably be related to their increased familiarity with the computer interface.
(p. 53)

In analyzing the data from this study, both quantitative and qualitative, themes emerged
from observing the collaborative compositional activity: the importance of exploration
within the scope of identified creative processes, negotiating strategies, and students’ per-
ceptions of technology as a means for creating.

The Importance of Exploration

The use of exploration in multiple processes emphasizes the need for students to experi-
ment with sound sources when technology is present. Exploration is necessary for students
to have the ability for quality, creative work (Burnard & Younker, 2008; Kratus, 1989;
Savage, 2005). The time analysis revealed that groups differed in their use of the two pro-
cesses related to exploration. The RG groups spent 13% of the compositional activity in
Sound Exploration. The SG groups spent 29% in the same process. RG spent 31% of total
time in Compositional Development while the SG spent only 22% in the same process.
Groups in SG had a statistically significant higher use of time spent in Sound Exploration
than the RG groups. This finding presented an argument for differences in exploratory
processes.
Arnold (RG) reported that his group discovered sounds that “sounded good” and imme-
diately recorded them, with no mention of how the sound selection would fit within the
group parameters of other selected sound sources. Arnold’s description denoted more ran-
dom exploration. SG participant Deb, however, reported that her group listened to all pos-
sible ideas from group members before she “kind of figured out what the song was going to
be a little bit like.” Similarly, Marco’s (SG) group mutually decided on a pre-­existing theme
before beginning the exploration process. These examples signified a more intentional or
purposeful planning approach. Wiggins (1994) echoed the importance of purposeful plan-
ning over random exploration in creative collaborative approaches. When looking at the
compositional processes of this study in total, SG group percentages were overall more
evenly distributed than their RG counterparts.

Negotiation through Exploration

A shared vision was observed in the exploratory-based compositional processes of Sound
Exploration and Compositional Development, where SG groups spent a statistically signif-
icantly higher amount of time in Sound Exploration. SG’s vision of the final product was
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  237
more purposefully planned than RG. This purposeful planning was identified as mutu-
ally selecting a theme or genre for the composition, as a means to guide creative choices.
Through devising pre-existing themes, exploration was more intentional in scope. RG
spent more time in Compositional Planning, where the exploration of sounds led directly
to recording sound sources into the composition, with seemly less negotiating regarding the
inclusion of other sound sources.
SG participants shared their desire to create in groupings of their choosing, based on
mutual understanding of establish social dynamics. In Deb’s words, “I think it was fun
picking our own groups, because we picked people that knew we could work well with.”
Liz, who was in a researcher group, said she would have preferred to have selected her own
groupmates “because [my friends] kind of all think the same and we would have created a
pretty good song.” These sentiments echoed Wiggins’ (1994) observations of a shared vision
between group members, where similar problem-solving strategies stemmed from under-
standing the dynamics between groupmates.
Participant interviews further revealed differences in methods of negation through
observed explorative processes. While arguments and disagreements were observed in
both groupsets, the SG groups employed a more egalitarian approach to decision-making.
Susan, for example, said that her SG group “…took turns. If we liked it, then I would
put it in and if it was [the other groupmate’s] idea, then she would put it in.” The RG
participants expressed more frustration in the negotiating process, especially toward the
beginning of the compositional activity. Marco stated that “there were just a few options,
and some people wanted one option and other people wanted other options, and we really
couldn’t decide at first.” While many participants negotiated for a chance to have their
individual ideas heard, Liz took a more passive, non-confrontational approach. She stated
that her groupmates “wouldn’t listen to my ideas, sometimes. I just kind of went with
their ideas.”

Perceptions of Technology in Collaborative Creativities

When asked what the participants liked about using the iPad for composing, several ref-
erenced the ease of the interface for music making. Specific examples from GarageBand
were cited as a means for “easier” composing. The researcher observed many participants
modifying entire musical phrases and sections. Similarly, participants easily moved musical
phrases to various sections of their collective compositions. This finding is similar to Bol-
ton’s (2008) assertion that the ease of composing with GarageBand can increase satisfaction
and motivation in composition in the “development of a positive self-concept in the abil-
ity to compose” (p. 51). Alison loved the ability to modify and edit musical phrases and
sections. Larry found the Autoplay feature helpful by composing from pre-existing loops.
According to Larry, “the iPad already had a little bit of songs in it, so we could use that and
then compose our song with it.” While most groups used the instrument feature to custom-
ize their songs, Tom preferred the Live Loops section, which offered longer, pre-arranged
musical phrases.
GarageBand offered a variety of options that many participants deemed useful in group
composition. Live loops and sound effects were common choices that participants cited as
examples. These particular aspects of GarageBand were similarly cited as an effective means
to composing by Ankney (2012). Arnold reported satisfaction in the variety of instruments
and variations within those instruments, enjoying the “different ways to play,” in reference
to instrument styles. Further interview findings revealed specific examples of instruments
used during the compositional activity, such as altered synthesizer sounds and rock guitar
variants.
238  Samuel Holmes
Final Reflections
Many of the findings in this study have reflected those of previous studies pertaining to
collaborative and digital creativities, within the realm of group assignment. The significant
finding in observed compositional processes revealed how student-selected groupings made
better use of time in exploratory practices, creating a more intentional approach to sound
selection.
Further, findings from participant interviews disclosed negotiation techniques that were
far more successful in the student-selected groups (SG). A shared vision of the final product
by SG groups allowed for more deliberate exploration of sound sources. This shared vision
is similar in scope to the idea of shared responsibility in collaborative creativity (Burnard &
Haddon, 2015), where explorative practices formed coherent ideas through joint think-
ing. Conversely, the researcher-selected groups (RG) had difficulty with group decision-­
making, where random sounds were placed throughout their respective compositions. For
these reasons, one might make a case for allowing students to select their own groupings for
collaborative digital creative activities.
The plurality of creativity, considering its diversification through forms of authorship,
mediating modalities, and practice principles (Burnard, 2012), is vast. In music education
curricula, the possibilities for meaningful music making are endless. In this study, Garage-
Band was the mediating modality used in collaborative creative efforts. Yet, the expansive
number of technological modalities available for educators can continue to heighten the
plurality of musical creativities, particularly collaborative creativity. E-learning, as Jason
Chen discussed in Chapter 23, allows for collaborative creations to not just be co-­created,
but Recreated, through popular music curricula. Further, digital audio workstation (DAW),
as discussed by Matt Clauhs and Brian Dozoventz in Chapter 25, has the means to promote
collaborative creations to shared spaces around the world.
The importance of group selection in digital, collaborative creativities can heighten the
overall experience for students. Allowing students to choose their groupmates could en-
hance the learning experience through a shared vision, potentially employing egalitarian
means to music making. This was certainly the case here, where students who selected their
own groupings negotiated through disagreements and differences as they worked toward
their final products. It is said that collaborative creativity is designed to be student-centered,
open-ended in structure, for the creation of unique products where mutual decisions can
be made. Should we not give students the same courtesy to mutually select group members
for an activity based on the same premise?

Questions for Consideration

1 What are advantages to allowing students to mutually select their own group mem-
bers in collaborative creativity? With the intersectionality of digital modalities? Dis-
advantages? Can you be more specific regarding inviting reflection on collaborative
creativity?
2 How might music educators use iconic notation as a means to transition to more tradi-
tional notation?
3 How can instructors of teacher preparation programs better serve pre-service teachers
to be adequately prepared for a technology-centric music classroom?
4 In what ways can music educators gain technological fluency to develop successful
collaborative creativity in their respective classrooms? How might this fluency improve
the ability to demonstrate, and, therefore, assess student co-creations?
 Through the Lens of Collaborative Creativity  239
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22 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity
through Hip-Hop Music Genres
Insights for Mainstream Music Curricula
Pamela Burnard, Pete Dale, Simon Glenister, Jim Reiss,
Raphael Travis, Elliot Gann and Alinka Greasley

The Case for Diversity and Inclusivity

Hip-hop is a culture and art movement born out of the need to express and create. Accord-
ing to Nielsen Music, Hip-hop is also the most popular music genre in the United States
( Jones, 2020; Thibeault, 2010; Tobias, 2014). The appreciation and popularity of Hip-hop
music and its widespread geographical reach are not new. Spotify has generated a live musi-
cal map of the world which is updated bi-weekly. Analysing nearly 20 billion tracks to show
localised listening trends for over 1,000 cities, the data identify music that is ‘distinctive’
to each area – meaning songs that are listened to frequently in specific cities and are not
frequently listened to in others – and listeners’ loyalty to musicians from their own cities.
However, the most interesting finding is that Hip-hop is the world’s top genre, showing
up on playlists more than all others, regardless of geography or language (Hooton, 2015).
Furthermore, the effusive rhythmic styles (especially those centred on speech) are identified
with a certain representation of urban life, and from its very earliest history, like rap music,
it was designed for moving a crowd, making them dance, and creating or continuing a
‘groove’ and a mood (Krims, 2000; Toop, 1984).
In 2019, the International Music Summit Business Report reported a study which asked
19,000 people aged 16–64 in 18 countries which genres they typically listen to. Thirty-two
percent of respondents answered dance/electronic/house, ranking it first, ahead of genres
such as Hip-hop/rap and R&B. Given that there is an estimated global audience of 1.5 billion
for dance/electronic music, that Hip-hop is reported as being less popular than pop, rock,
dance/electronic and even soundtracks is not a significant shift nor the issue here (Watson,
2019). In this chapter we do not intend to argue for the centrality, cultural value and impact
of Hip-hop music in relation to the music industry and the world at large (Leight, 2019) or
that it gives voice to minorities and the marginalised (Chang, 2005). However, we do wish
to make the case for its cultural value, which is little recognised in educational contexts.
BREIS is a London-based Nigerian Hip-hop/rap/jazz artist, educator and CEO of Stu-
dent of Life Ltd, a Hip-hop education company and record label. Brother Reaching Each
Inner Soul (BREIS) argues for the ‘hip-hopification of education’. He takes the creative,
vibrant energy of Hip-hop and applies it in the classroom where teachers can be impactful
and relevant to their students. Featuring the use of storytelling, BREIS’s Hip-hop Literacy
programme aims to make learning more fun and provide an understanding of Hip-hop,
while simultaneously improving literacy skills. Through active engagement, students share
part ownership of the performance and their thoughts and feelings, validating their expres-
sion irrespective of spelling and grammar. In this way, students expose their vulnerability,
writing skill and knowledge of self. BREIS (pronounced Breeze) maintains that knowledge
of self, which he argues is one of the pillars of Hip-hop, generates understanding of who we
are and how to live peacefully in this world. Making this a fundamental part of learning is
for BREIS crucial to our future well-being (see BREIS, 2022).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-25
242  Pamela Burnard et al.
Heavenly sent to me so it was meant to be
I’m already mentally who I’m meant to be eventually
They couldn’t see this entity’s intensity immensity
Didn’t invest in me, but that wasn’t my destiny
Don’t mess with me, God-given energy
To crush my enemy like a centipede, but I’m friendly
the mic is my girl. At 10 to 3, secret assignments to MC
I’ll do it for free but first pay my rent for me
I’m ebony and everybody’s telling me
How to be, I won’t let it be a dent in me
Let me be me, the best in me is yet to be
Don’t need an ID card to show you my identity
In a class of my own I tend to be essentially
A student of life, it’s elementary
Not me, but a conduit I get to be
The Word in me is next to me; spell my name
This world is full of lies, everybody’s in a guise
Despise and diss guys in disguise that spit lies
A bit wise behind my eyes and behind my disguise
I’m a fat guy mistaking MCs for mince pies
Throw your hands in the air, reach for the skies
I rise till I realise: I am the prize
But don’t be surprised when I enter-prise
I’m blessed, I’m a blessing, I’m blessing in disguise
Disguised in a body – soul, spirit
My whole lyric no limit, so go get it
Why did he did it? ’cos flows is good for his health
Bona fide Rhymes Exist In Self
(BREIS, ‘Identity’)

So, why is it that music educators, across a spectrum of sectors, rarely feature Hip-hop in
the classroom and make little use of a cultural area which is of immense importance to huge
numbers of young people? Hip-hop struggles to find a place in the mainstream school cur-
riculum, at least in the UK. Creative practice with DJ decks is a key mode of music making
within contemporary urban musics, but is very different from the practices found in pop-
ular music and Western art music, which most music educators are at home with. DJing,
MCing, beat making and rapping are rarely practised in schools and are marginal in higher
education, yet these modes of music making can have transformative effects on young peo-
ple, not only for their musical learning and understanding but also for their self-confidence,
mental well-being and much more (Dale, 2017; Glenister, 2018; Söderman and Sernhede,
2016; Travis, Gann, Crooke, and Jenkins, 2019). There is an urgent need, therefore, for
music educators to recognise this music for what it is: arguably the most popular music
in the 21st century, which is hugely important to great swathes of young people (many of
them from Black, Asian and minority ethnic backgrounds) that need to find self-expression,
empowerment and healing (Kruse, 2018).
Hip-hop developed in the South Bronx in New York City during the early 1970s as a
culture and an art movement primarily by Black and Latinx youth within a complex en-
vironment of socio-economic marginalisation and excessive youth violence. The culture
emerged at the intersections of survival, identity, community and creativity (Chang, 2005;
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  243
Rose, 1994). It was traditionally described as comprising five elements, three of which are
about making a musical sound (DJing and MCing) with breakdancing involving a physical
response to music, while graffiti or writing, a visual artist a fourth (Williams, 2015). A fifth
element is knowledge, both self-awareness and social awareness (Travis, 2016).
While the influence of Hip-hop is huge, there are some urban musics which do not
count as Hip-hop. Grime, for example, is often counted as being quite distinct from Hip-
hop, although both feature rapping. Grime, created and popularised by acts such as Dizzee
Rascal, Wiley and Stormzy, differs from certain music genre codes found in Hip-hop.
Dance/electronic musics should also be regarded as distinct from Hip-hop. The main point
here is that Hip-hop is not a satisfactory umbrella term for the full range of contemporary
‘urban musics’. Post-grime genres such as drill and trap, often the object of discrimina-
tory politics (Fatsis, 2019), are certainly related to Hip-hop but they are not synonymous
with it. Electronic dance music, or EDM, has its own history distinct from Hip-hop to
dubstep via house, trance, rave and so forth. EDM is certainly contemporary urban mu-
sic but it is not Hip-hop. All of these contemporary urban musics are important, but in
this chapter we focus primarily on Hip-hop as a mode of music making which includes
DJing, MCing, beat making and beatboxing. These practices are recognised, at least in
the UK, by leading examination boards such as Assessment and Qualifications Alliance
(AQA), an awarding body in England, Wales and Northern Ireland, and Edexcel (another
British multinational education and examination body whose name is a portmanteau term
combining the words ‘education’ and ‘excellence’) for the General Certificate of Secondary
Education (GCSE) qualification, yet few teachers use this music in practice. Many teachers
still feel very uncertain about how to assess Hip-hop compared with the more familiar as-
sessment strategies around traditional instruments (Burnard, 2018; Hess, 2017; Kruse, 2018;
­Gaztambide-Fernández, 2011; Tobias, 2014).
The presence of Hip-hop in America’s classrooms is not new. It would appear that while
many high school teachers in the United States, including mathematics and science teach-
ers, embrace a form of teaching known as Hip-hop pedagogy1 to reach students who might
otherwise not find a subject relevant (Akom, 2009; Jones, 2020), there are still many teach-
ers who assume that Hip-hop is not part of the music curriculum and that it is inappropriate
to diversify music curricula (Hone, 2017). Many music educators believe that Hip-hop
music clashes with the culture of formal educational institutions (Kallio, 2017). Yet the
process by which Hip-hop musicians learn, according to Kruse (2018) who found several
‘elements of self-teaching; learning through listening, creating, competing, and collabo-
rating’ (p.  317), requires an unpacking of teachers’ prejudices and misunderstandings of
Hip-hop. Through this reconsideration, music educators might more closely align Hip-hop
with the curriculum and translate it into confident practice in formal educational contexts,
particularly school music (Hone, 2017).

Overview of Studies and Projects

A range of academic articles and books on Hip-hop have been produced over the past 40
years, for example, The Hip-Hop Studies Reader containing classic Hip-hop articles (For-
man and Neal, 2004). There is also The Cambridge companion to hip-hop (Williams, 2015),
which provides evidence of diverse practices, skills, originality and musicianship framed
and functioning in contemporary narratives that are multi-layered and embodied as well
as the product of diverse creativities underpinning encounters of inclusivity, social engage-
ment and connectedness. Following similarly is #HipHopEd: The Compilation of Hip-hop
Education, volumes 1 (Emdin and Adjapong, 2018) and 2 (Adjapong and Levy, 2020), with
244  Pamela Burnard et al.
ground-breaking insights into Hip-hop-integrated strategies within educational settings.
Indeed, the literature in this area is too vast to be summarised here and grows year on year.
Music sociologist Lucy Green argued as early as 2008 that Hip-hop-related practices such
as DJing are ‘much further removed from the popular music into which [music] teachers
were themselves encultured’ (Green, 2008, p. 48), causing DJing, rapping and the like to be
highly uncommon in schools. It is true that DJing, MCing/rapping and ‘making beats’ with
technology involve a very different musical approach to classical music and most popular
music.2
Classical music education and popular music within education settings tends to eschew
improvisation and focus on recreating a canon that already exists. Electronic musical pro-
duction often tends to be individual, initially at least, and often starts with improvisation.
Even before we get to issues around teachers’ confidence around the fast-paced develop-
ment of styles and technology, this group-orientated ‘cover version’ focused approach can
be challenging to adapt to electronic production environments.
With over a decade of experience organising Hip-hop and urban arts spaces across the
United States, a former high school teacher and present Professor of Education at Lincoln
University in Pennsylvania, Emery Petchauer (2012), in his book entitled Hip-Hop Culture
in College Students’ Lives, describes how Hip-hop became an important topic of study for
education and educational research. He describes how Hip-hop culture entered academia
through dissertations, academic conferences, courses and university programmes. Perhaps it
is not surprising that academic institutions, such as universities, colleges and K-12 schools,
became interested in Hip-hop culture. Afrika Bambaataa, a founding father of the Hip-
hop movement, stressed that knowledge and its emancipatory aspects are cornerstones of the
culture (Rawis and Petchauer, 2020). Social activism and education have been associated with
Hip-hop culture since its origin in New York almost 50 years ago.
Navigating between the field of Hip-hop culture with its deep cultural logic outside aca-
demia and the expectations inside the academy (particularly universities) is what Söderman
(2013) refers to as ‘Hip-Hop Academicus’ or the academisation of Hip-hop. Building on
this, Snell and Söderman mix and remix educational orthodoxies into a whole new peda-
gogical strategy in their 2015 book Hip-Hop Within and Without the Academy which explores
why Hip-hop has become such a meaningful musical genre and how educators can include
and embrace Hip-hop’s authenticity and appeal to young people to help them express their
ideas and opinions Global Hip-hop culture allows young people with different cultural
backgrounds to connect and interact in multicultural suburbs (Hess, 2017). It even provides
a global kinship, representing an alternative counter-nation and global Hip-hop nation
(Gaztambide-Fernández, 2011; Söderman and Sernhede, 2016).
A study of Hip-hop was conducted at the University of Sydney Conservatorium of Mu-
sic in 2016 by James Humberstone (a teacher-composer-producer) and Caitlin Sandiford
(a student-improviser-performer) (reported in full in this compendium; see also Sydney
Conservatorium of Music, 2016). Hip-hop was used to open traditional conservatory stu-
dents (trained in Western art music) to a very different yet highly sophisticated musical
culture. This was described as an ‘activist pluralist’ project, where pluralism was defined
philosophically through Isaiah Berlin’s work as well as pedagogically through established
traditions in the music education degree at the institution. A collaborative Hip-hop res-
idency was established and a creative work with elements of slam poetry, rap, electronic
beats, orchestral and choral music, and cinematography, with social justice themes, called
Odysseus: Live, was premiered in June 2016 as the culmination of the project. Humberstone
and Sandiford came together as teacher and student at the conservatory, before setting out
their very deliberate methods including how they propose to develop a model of activist
pluralism as a viable pedagogy for a more diverse and inclusive model of music education
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  245
in the 21st century. With more than 100 students involved, and an aspiration to de-centre
the traditional conservatory worldview on what counts as music and effective pedagogy, the
purpose of the project was to act as a way into the contribution to tertiary music education
of Hip-hop.
As part of a doctoral study in 2018, Kimberly Stuart conducted an ethnography of Hip-
hop as music. She specifically investigated the independent and thriving Hip-hop music
scene in Sydney. Using in-depth interviews with 40 independent Sydney Hip-hop musi-
cians, that is, MCs, producers, beatboxers and vocalists, she also completed observations
of more than 130 fieldwork experiences of live Hip-hop shows, local music institutions
including independent stores, independent record labels, live music venues, conferences,
festivals, exhibitions and documentary screenings. One of her key insights was that the
Hip-hop music scene does not always align itself with the mainstream music industry, but
rather with an independent network of dedicated local Hip-hop musicians who also engage
with local music institutions to keep their scene going. These ‘institutions’ did not feature
higher music education or school programmes (Stuart, 2018).
Literatures which describe the teaching and learning of Hip-hop and its documentation,
evaluation and/or impact, such as the burgeoning and discursive body of Hip-hop scholar-
ship informing the field of education as exemplified by Petchauer (2009) and Bridges (2011),
offer analyses of social, educational and cultural experiences. A key focus is the capacities
of institutions to foreground Hip-hop in terms of the multiplicity of affective relations and
impacts that bind these practices together as a profound genre that significantly influences
learners as much as they are influencing it. Bridges (2011) highlights three organising prin-
ciples drawn from Hip-hop culture: (a) a call to service, (b) a commitment to self-awareness
and (c) resistance to social injustice, all of which profoundly shape the teaching identifies of
the Black male K-12 teachers featured in his study.
Hip-hop works as a context for subject knowledge, as a cultural experience and as a
cultural space which involves having an audience beyond the teacher. It leaves room for
unexpected knowledge, emphasising the skill of language and the temporality of the rela-
tionship between language and the embodied practice of Hip-hop as a performative event
where all objects – human, environmental or inscribed – are entangled in the exploration
of an idea and the expression of its discovery. The ‘animacy’ of performance and compo-
sitional creativities is critical to Hip-hop. Recognising and naming the diversification of
musical practices, genre codes and lyric registers requires us to ask what and who do we
need to change and is it really possible to change the system to incorporate contemporary
embodied practices such as Hip-hop into contemporary mainstream music curricula? If,
as music educators and curricula designers, we were to include Hip-hop as the prominent
genre of contemporary music that it is, we stand to enact transformative effects on young
people in terms of not only musical learning/understanding but also self-confidence, men-
tal well-being and much more. There is an urgent need, which is well documented, for mu-
sic education and schools in general, as well as extra-educational institutions, to recognise
urban music, and particularly Hip-hop, for what it is, arguably the most popular music in
the world in the 21st century, and certainly a hugely important cultural and musical field.
This music and culture is immensely important to large numbers of young people today but
is minimally recognised by the mainstream educational establishment. Given that educators
need to harness student voice to inform mental health and well-being issues, experiences
and approaches in school – even before the COVID-19 crisis, the most pressing issue facing
the education sector – we need now more than ever to open up to, to share and to pursue
diversity and inclusivity through transformative Hip-hop music practices, allowing room
for the different creativities and diverse cultural knowledges implicit in students’ experi-
ences of learning in music classrooms.
246  Pamela Burnard et al.
What follows is a unique assemblage of evidence-informed innovative approaches and
practices, written by the founders themselves who describe their own practices and their
attempts to develop and classify key elements of the transformative impact of Hip-hop.

An Assemblage of Exemplary Practices and Programmes

Noise Solution

Simon Glenister
Noise Solution is a programme that uses music and technology to improve the well-being
of youth in challenging circumstances (YICC). YICC is an all-encompassing descriptor,
indicative and mindful of economic difficulties, life conditions, life circumstances and be-
havioural challenges (Youth Music, 2016, p. 24). Improvements in well-being have been
widely cited as leading to improvements in positive engagement, health and educational
outcomes (Fancourt et al., 2020).
The programme design draws on self-determination theory (SDT) and aims to encour-
age participants’ feelings of autonomy, competence and relatedness. These three feelings
are identified in SDT (an established organismic perspective on understanding well-being
and motivation) as psychological needs that are essential to flourishing well-being (Deci,
Olafsen, and Ryan, 2017).
To foster autonomy, we start every first session with the question, ‘What would you like to
make?’ What follows is 20 hours of student-led one-to-one music mentoring focused on music
production (live and online). Given ‘electronically driven’ music’s prominence, these mentoring
sessions predominantly revolve around Hip-hop, electronica, grime and drill production.
To foster competence, technology is employed to enable ‘quick wins’ centred around music
technology and beat making. Typically, ‘what you hear is what you get’ (WYHIWYG) dig-
ital interfaces are employed. WYHIWYG is an acronym used to describe musical software
(commonly referred to as DAWs or digital audio workstations) that enables intuitive manip-
ulation of audio. This computer technology is intended to act as a democratising agent in
this context where, as argued by Professor of Music and Arts Technology David Williams:

Students with limited skills in the traditional (formal) instruments of band and or-
chestra, who may or may not be able to read standard notation, are given the opportu-
nity to be creative with the entire sonic palette of the music universe at their beck and
call through computers, electronic instruments and software.

(Williams, 2011, p. 143)

To facilitate feelings of relatedness within sessions, YICC post digital highlights to their Noise
Solution cloud-based feed. Here they capture their music, experiences, highlights, thoughts
and video reflections of how they feel creating their chosen music. These digital stories
are then securely, automatically, shared via email notification (once a session is completed)
to adults invited by the participant into their individual feed within the Noise Solution’s
platform. In this way, weekly sessions are projected onto the screens of trusted family and
professional workers to be seen by, interacted with and commented on.
Why might these feeds facilitate relatedness? Davis and Weinshenker (2012) suggest that
the immutable nature of a digital story enables it to retain a power to influence. The process
of others seeing and engaging with the narrative (see example shared in Figure 22.1) may
cement any self-realisations the process may have engendered. In fact, as the authors note,
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  247

Figure 22.1  Example of a post from within a noise solution feed.

they are needed to increase impact: ‘Without the ongoing support of the community, the
self-realisations they report and the personal transformations they testify to are likely to fade
from consciousness without translation into action’ (Davis and Weinshenker, 2012, p. 50).
Meaningful interaction with others may also help people internalise the narratives of
newfound competence they may have created. Robert Kegan states further that, for self-­
reflection and change to occur, adults need to help scaffold experiences for young people
where: ‘Self-reflection is a developmental accomplishment … They must step outside of
their immediate categorical reality. Their experience must be transformed into an object of
contemplation’ (Kegan, 1994, p. 32). The ability to showcase competence while external-
ising participant experience (allowing them to see and be seen) may help facilitate YICCs’
ability to reflect and process their new internal view of themselves. What, if any, is the
impact on levels of well-being for YICC? This, after all, is the intention of the organisation.
Within the platform, the participant can complete the Shortened Warwick and Edinburgh
Mental Wellbeing Scale (SWEMWBS) either before or within session one and again in sessions
nine to ten. This scale is a validated well-being measurement tool developed by the National
Health Service (NHS) and Warwick and Edinburgh Universities. The tool is used widely in a
local government/NHS/third sector to help assess intervention impacts (CORC, 2017).
Noise Solution’s cloud platform automatically compares this participant well-being data
to the national well-being average (calculated in a paper collating 27,000 responses to the
same SWEMWBS scale collected from other organisations across the UK: Fat et al., 2017).
That same paper gives a UK average low, medium and high level of well-being within the
SWEMWBS scale that Noise Solution’s platform utilises to benchmark its participants’
start and end data. Using these parameters, well-being data from within the platform can
be presented visually to others by age, gender or delivery method as it is collected (see
Figure 22.2).
248  Pamela Burnard et al.

Figure 22.2  Screenshot of noise solution platform.

The top row compares the start and end levels of well-being for the past 225 participants. The
bottom row demonstrates how the data above it compares against a singular national average
well-being score (calculated from a sample size of n = 270,000) to see what percentage (of the
scores above) are below, within two points of, or at and above that national average.
Of the last 225 participants completing a set of sessions that contributed SWEMWBS
data, 47.11% reported low levels of well-being pre-Noise Solution. Post-intervention almost
halved to 26%. Additionally, 61% finished at, above or within two points of the national
average well-being SWEMWBS score. The platform also automatically statistically analy-
ses the data to establish whether the results have statistical significance. Using a Wilcoxon
signed-rank test (Field, 2009, p. 540), the resulting p figure has been .0001 for three years
consistently (n = 225). It can be said confidently that YICC completing a Noise Solution
programme are significantly likely to experience improved well-being.
Taking the digital stories and the data together, the platform is a central point of data capture,
both qualitative and quantitative, collecting data from all stakeholders (participants, parents,
professionals and Noise Solution itself). It is an impact capture and analysis platform, informed
by self-determination theory, designed (through the sharing of these digital stories) not just to
capture, analyse and benchmark well-being changes but to actively improve them.

DJ School UK

Jim Reiss
As the founder and managing director of DJ School UK I will focus mainly on the role
of the DJ in Hip-hop music rather than the producer, MC or rapper. Before I do, I want
to mention that the wider culture of Hip-hop, which includes breakdancing, graffiti art
and the use of the microphone, promotes self-improvement, respect for people who have
achieved skills and respect for people trying to improve their skills. These attitudes are
integral to the positive impact all Hip-hop culture has on young people, when it is taught
correctly.
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  249
The motivation behind using DJ skills with young people comes down to the impact it has
on engagement: at the touch of a button, with the right piece of music, DJing can be cultur-
ally representative for any individual. It allows anyone to get results instantly and to express
themselves. It receives the interest and focus of cohorts of young people who love music but
have no interest in traditional instruments or current music curricula. It is especially useful
at engaging young people who are hard to reach, who may have social, emotional or mental
health needs or other special educational needs or disabilities. Despite this accessibility, to
master it involves an equivalent level of dedication as any instrument. This means learners
develop self-discipline and reflective practice, skills in counting, pitch, rhythm, arrange-
ment, appraisal, teamwork and planning, all while building self-confidence and self-efficacy.
I have worked for over 20 years with young people and children across all the genres of
music that would normally be considered parts of DJ culture: Hip-hop, electronic dance
music, disco, dub reggae and northern soul. As the art form and technology of DJing
continue to increase in popularity and accessibility, I find that young people will use DJ
equipment with any musical genre that they feel represents their identity and culture. This
includes heavy metal, soul, soundtracks and even Western classical. I think this adaptability
of DJing to include all music, to cross boundaries and to unite otherwise unexpected cul-
tures into something new began with Hip-hop and it is one of the largest impacts Hip-hop
specifically has on young people who want to learn about music.
Hip-hop music originated from DJs using two copies of recordings to repeat sections
of the same song indefinitely. These ‘loops’ became new musical phrases. They could be
altered to build song structures through ‘turntablist’ techniques.

It ain’t nothing like hip hop music. You like it ’cause you choose it. (Tommy Boy,
2018a and hundreds more who sampled this vocal hook in their own hip hop, e.g.
kidceeone, 2017)

This pioneering way of recycling old music to make new is the basis of all electronic dance mu-
sic. It was applied out of necessity by creators who could not afford to purchase the instruments
to form a full band but who wanted to make new music anyway. This ‘do-it-yourself’ culture
and ethos underpin all elements of Hip-hop and contemporary urban music culture, and young
people relate to it for the freedom and encouragement to create that it embodies.
As it mostly relies on older recordings, Hip-hop fans are introduced to the music of soul,
funk, rock ’n’ roll and more. These forms of music can be traced backwards through jazz
and ragtime to the time when African rhythms combined with Western classical melodies
and instruments during the dark days of colonialism and the slave trade. This shows that
Hip-hop is part of a musical legacy which combines previously separate art forms, creates
links between communities and in some cases helps to address prejudices. Fans of rock
music were notoriously prejudiced towards Hip-hop and the established larger record com-
panies would belittle the genre as not even being music, but then Run-DMC introduced
rock fans to Hip-hop with their track ‘Walk this way’. This release was first based on a
sample but then was released as a collaboration with Aerosmith, the original composers of
the sample, whose willingness to work together helped the two communities cohere (Run-
DMC, 2009). More recently Little Nas X worked with Billy Ray Cyrus and popularised
a new genre using country music in Hip-hop with his track ‘Old town road’ (Lil Nas X,
2019). This again helped the country music fan base integrate with the HipHop fan base.

Tell the truth, James Brown was old, ’Til Eric and Rakim came out with ‘I Got Soul’,
Rap brings back old RnB, And if we would not, people could’ve forgot.
(Tommy Boy, 2018b)
250  Pamela Burnard et al.
I also want to touch on the development of ‘turntablism’ and its impact in our work. This is the
art of using the turntable as an instrument and this clearly demonstrates that DJ skills can place
the same level of demand on the learner as traditional instruments due to the amount of prac-
tice that is necessary to perfect the art. We use ‘turntablism’ to add individual expression to DJ
performances, in ensemble to create entirely new works and to develop focus in those DJs who
want to develop themselves as much as possible. It has been argued that ‘you can grab any type
of music and use it as a percussive instrument’ (Mixmaster Mike, in Bonafide Staff, 2015) and a
key part of our ethos is allowing students to create with any style they like.
‘Turntablism’ originated with the repetition of sections of music by using two copies of the
same record, as mentioned above. ‘Beat juggling’ is a very advanced form of this technique
in which entirely new patterns are created from existing works (see Beat Junkies, 2019).
Scratching is arguably the most recognisable timbre of the Hip-hop DJ. By a combination
of manipulating the platter on which a recording is playing, and using the audio mixer to
alter the volume of the recording, or to entirely gate it (temporarily turn it off ), scratching
techniques have developed to levels of virtuosity never imagined by their originators, for
example in Gabriel Prokofiev’s ‘Concerto for turntables and orchestra’ (BBC, 2018).
In terms of the impact Hip-hop music has in our sessions with young people at DJ School
UK, it can be hard at first glance to distinguish between the effects of Hip-hop, house or
any other genre of music, but as all the skills we teach originated in turntablism and Hip-
hop culture we can say Hip-hop underpins all the benefits young people gain from learning
to DJ. These benefits include life skills such as an ability to focus, increased self-motivation,
increased self-confidence, self-efficacy and self-esteem, listening, appraisal and reflective
practice skills, planning, time management, team-working and networking skills, plus the
range of musical skills required: counting, recognising pitch, melody, phrase, composition
and arrangement. To summarise, these are children and young people who love music, but
are not engaged by traditional music education, and are engaged by DJing, and through it
gain all the benefits of a music education.

The Healing Power of Hip-hop: Hip-hop, Empowerment and Therapeutic Beat

Making

Raphael Travis and Elliot Gann

Aside from clinical social work practice, and additional youth development and adolescent
health work, Hip-hop and Empowerment strategies stem from research exploring connec-
tions between how people engage Hip-hop culture and well-being goals. The Hip-Hop and
Youth Development Study was an early research project conducted in partnership with Dr
Anne Deepak and Dr Scott Bowman examining youth attitudes towards Hip-hop culture
and the operationalisation of the Individual and Community Empowerment (ICE) frame-
work discussed in the journal article Empowerment in Context (Travis and Deepak, 2011).
This work followed on the heels of ground-breaking research and practice about Hip-hop
Therapy and Rap Therapy from Tyson (2002), Elligan (2000) and DeCarlo (2001).
A second wave of research led to a better understanding of what people felt was em-
powering about engaging with Hip-hop culture and where the potential for risk existed.
Research published between 2011 and 2013 helped outline the underlying framework in
detail, provided evidence for a measurement scale and looked at links between empowering
and risky Hip-hop engagement and depressive symptoms in youth (Travis and Deepak,
2011). This underlying framework of individual and community empowerment amid the
potential for risk when engaging Hip-hop culture set the foundation for future research
and practice.
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  251
Once these Hip-hop-specific principles were affirmed, research expanded from an emphasis
on motivation for Hip-hop music engagement and preferred types of engagement, to a focus
on better understanding any type of music engagement. Research also continued with greater
specificity about (a) the outcomes of music engagement and (b) how people interact with mu-
sic. Both receptive and active engagements were a part of these investigations (e.g., organising,
analysing, creating, sharing and performing music). The desire to better understand how people
engaged music built on research from music therapy, music psychology and allied professions
(DeCarlo, 2001; Elligan, 2000; Tyson, 2002). Insights from this research suggested how people
both ‘actively’ and ‘intentionally’ engage with music. These were key variables in determining
how and when music can afford positive well-being and empowerment outcomes. While deep-
ening the understanding of how people engage music, there was the simultaneous focus on the
efficacy and impact of Hip-hop-integrated strategies.

Hip-hop and Empowerment Impact

MUZUZE/Hip-hop and Empowerment strategies have been implemented independently,
and as part of interdisciplinary approaches working with other models. An independent ini-
tiative with adults in a homeless shelter showed how this structured Hip-hop-integrated ap-
proach can help instigate empowerment, therapeutic and social-emotional benefits (Travis,
Rodwin, and Allcorn, 2019). The narratives embedded in the selected Hip-hop tracks for
the project served as a vehicle for building awareness, reflective thinking and discussion.
The empowerment themes of esteem, resilience, growth, community and change guided
all activities and processing.
One collaborative interdisciplinary approach (i.e., ‘Mixtape Camp’) combined the
MUZUZE Hip-hop and Empowerment system with Dr Ian Levy’s Critical Cycle of Mix-
tape Creation model within a music studio space. Results highlighted the potential for
meaningful social and emotional activities grounded in Hip-hop culture during summer
months to reduce stress, anxiety and/or depression, which contrasted with the sometimes
exclusive focus on academic pathways to prevent summer learning loss. This approach has
since been replicated effectively using online platforms (Travis and Levy, under review) and
investigated with additional music engagement innovations.

“Mixtape Camp” Feature from https://traumaresearchfoundation.org/flowstory-and-

the-create-research-lab/:
You can see Dr. Travis’ commitment to this research in The Summer Mixtape
Camp series. “Mixtape Camp” is designed to support student mental health and com-
bat “summer strain,” or the social and emotional stresses students experience during
summer months when away from the relationships, structure, and support of the aca-
demic year. The program, a partnership with Dr. Ian Levy, works with scholars, artists,
and practitioners to create a dynamic and fun environment for high school students to
learn and grow. Using culturally relevant and evidence-based strategies campers learn
about and use music and music-related tools to analyze, discuss, write, collaborate,
record, and perform. Simultaneously, youth are helped to understand these activities
through the lens of positive development over the life-course. The consistent question
asks, “What does this mean for now and the long-term?” The Mixtape Camps, each
year, have shown positive results in terms of decreased stress, anxiety, and depression
for participants between the start and end of camp.

A second effort blending modalities included MUZUZE Hip-hop and Empowerment

strategies alongside Dr Elliot Gann’s Therapeutic Beat Making (TBM) model (Travis,
252  Pamela Burnard et al.
Gann, Crooke, and Jenkins, 2019). TBM is grounded on creating and maintaining three
dimensions of therapeutic benefit: relational, expressive and self-concept. The hybrid TBM
and HHE music and empowerment intervention used receptive and active strategies to
effectively promote positive development and reduce depression and anxiety. In the effort
to reduce depression and anxiety symptoms, results also suggested the potential value of
screening and treatment for depressive and anxiety symptoms among middle school youth,
especially during the summer months.

Therapeutic Beat Making

The TBM model, as established and outlined by Dr Elliot Gann, and as used by Today’s
Future Sound (TFS), has proven to be an effective means of engaging youth in a variety of
settings. Based on Dr Gann’s clinical and Hip-hop education/community work, the TBM
model is also informed by Gann’s dissertation research (Gann, 2010) on Therapeutic (Hip-
hop) Activity Groups conducted by BRL Inc. (formerly known as Beats, Rhymes and Life).
The model of Hip-hop beat makers/producers bringing in beat making equipment to make
beats with youth has proven to be highly effective not only in TFS’ home base of Oakland
and the San Francisco Bay Area, but nationally and internationally, demonstrating impact
across cultures and geographic settings. Dr Gann has trained teaching artists and practition-
ers to run their own autonomous programmes in El Salvador, Australia, Spain and South
Africa, working with trauma-exposed youth who have benefited from the model and activ-
ity. By all accounts from staff in Alameda County Probation and Alameda County Office of
Education, TFS’ programme has proven to be the most popular and engaging programme
in Alameda County Juvenile Hall, where it is now going into its sixth consecutive year and
has been funded by California Arts Council for three consecutive years. Youth participants
demonstrate higher engagement, better capacity to focus, improved media and critical lit-
eracy skills, higher self-esteem and self-efficacy, and understanding of music and technical
aspects of music production, not to mention improved relationships with peers and staff.
Similar results have been seen by other organisations trained in TBM by Dr Gann working
with children of gang members and youth in gang-affected neighbourhoods by TFS partner
organisation, Una Frecuencia, as well as Hip-hop Project In based in Barcelona and work-
ing with refugee youth diagnosed with PTSD and Complex Trauma.
Dr Gann and TFS’ work in juvenile halls across the United States, in New Zealand and
Australia, with other Hip-hop programme facilitators also suggests high levels of engage-
ment and learning through the TBM model and beat making workshops. Initial qualitative
reflections from the ‘Mindful Beats’ study conducted by Gann, Travis and Crooke in four
primary schools in the SF Bay Area also support the model and its impact not only on en-
gagement and wellness, but on the impact of learning, critical listening and music literacy/
technical literacy skills, as well as improved quality of relationships in and out of school.
Both students and parents reported a difference in student attitudes towards school and
engagement, in addition to improved child-parent relationships, which they attributed to
the TBM programme. The model emphasises Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences
(Gardner, 1983), and puts a premium on non-verbal aspects of the activity and expression.
Similar impact and results have been found in Sydney, Australia at Hilltop Road Public
School where Gann spent several years training staff, consulting on pedagogy and curricu-
lum, facilitating workshops and consulting on the implementation of Hip-hop culture into
school culture.
For many students who feel the burden of the Eurocentric scholastic emphasis on read-
ing, writing and arithmetic (Verbal-Linguistic and Logical-Mathematical Intelligences
as named by Gardner), the modality of non-verbal musician, kinesthetic, Visuospatial,
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  253
Interpersonal and Intrapersonal blended with the Logical-Mathematical and Verbal-­
Linguistic in culturally responsive and familiar ways through Hip-hop culture and beat
making make this modality particularly accessible, fun, and relatable where the intrinsic
value is already apparent. Other intrinsic elements and aspects that might be emphasised
in Eurocentric curriculums and schooling are learned as needed and as a secondary gain,
with an emphasis on self-expression (intrapersonal/interpersonal), creativity, connection
and a communal (interpersonal) musical activity. The consistently documented outcomes
across settings, cultures, geographic and location have been joy, learning and connection/
relationship building.

Suggestions for Hip-hop in School Classroom Music Education

This section focuses on the Tech Champions project which was set up by Musical Futures in
Spring 2019, in conjunction with Ableton. The latter is a leading company for software and
hardware for music creation and performance: specifically, the Ableton Live and also their
Link software and the Ableton Push hardware. Musical Futures, meanwhile, was set up in
2003 with a sizeable grant from the Paul Hamlyn Foundation and benefitted from the sig-
nificant input by Professor Lucy Green (Institute of Education), especially in its earlier years.
Professor Green encouraged the ‘informal learning’ model which has been central to the
organisation’s approach to music-based teaching and learning ever since (see Green, 2008).
Tech Champions was planned to run for two years in conjunction with selected second-
ary school music teachers across the UK. Ten schools were selected for participation (from
many dozens of schools that offered to take part), and each one was gifted with significant
quantities of music technology equipment from the collaborating organisation Ableton.
Specifically, the schools received multiple Push hardware units (typically, enough units in
each school to allow whole class teaching if two students were working on each Push de-
vice, and in some schools enough units to allow most students to work as individuals) and
copies of the Live software for a whole computer suite in each school. The schools were
also able to offer the Live suite to any learner who wanted it for home use, and many of the
learners did take up this option.
Ableton is certainly not only suited to Hip-hop: on the contrary, the possibilities for
creating music with Ableton are near limitless, thanks to the versatility of its design and
functions. However, it is certain an excellent platform for ‘beat making’ in general and,
more specifically, for making the kinds of beats which are the lifeblood of Hip-hop. Indeed,
Ableton is used by many Hip-hop producers as a core music-making tool: this DAW is pop-
ular across many genres of contemporary urban music today, including Hip-hop.
Early in the life of the Tech Champions project, Dr Pete Dale (then a senior lecturer at
Manchester Metropolitan University) was invited by Musical Futures and Ableton to eval-
uate the project. To facilitate this, Dale spent time in each of the participating schools and
undertook formal interviews with each of the teachers in 2019 and early 2020. His report
was published on the Musical Futures website in 2020 and, among other conclusions, sup-
ported Musical Futures’ contention that if music in schools is more ‘tech’ orientated it will
be more relevant and ‘authentic’ for learners (Dale, 2020). Other core findings from the
evaluation included:

• More use of music technology in music education will typically enable more and better
engagement of students.
• Tensions exist between ‘music’ and ‘music technology’, with many of the participating
teachers giving the impression that performance with music technology has important
potential for future development in music education.
254  Pamela Burnard et al.
• Music technology can be a very effective way of boosting the number of students opt-
ing to study music in mainstream schools (a growing issue in recent years that has seen
music dropped from the curriculum for learners of 13–18 years of age in many schools).
• Music technology can be a very effective way of immensely improving both engage-
ment and achievement across the secondary school age range, including the achieve-
ment of high-ability learners.
• Music technology can be a highly effective tool in combatting educational disaffection
and other forms of learner disengagement.
• It is possible for a school to benefit from even a minimal introduction of music
technology.
• Time pressures in the working lives of teachers make it difficult to develop teaching and
learning with new music technology.
• The teachers in this project, nearly all of whom were ‘classically trained’ and offered the
full range of music-making opportunities in their schools including choirs, orchestras
and so forth, strongly rejected the idea that music technology entails ‘dumbing down’
musical learning.

More detail on all of this is available in the online report, but perhaps the key finding is that
music technology such as Ableton can assist students to make creative decisions without needing to first
spend prohibitive amounts of time gaining technical skills. The impact of this significant point, along-
side the other findings in the report, is potentially huge: if such is indeed the case, as the Tech
Champions project clearly suggests to be the case, there is potential here for a huge growth
in the number of students electing to study music beyond the age of 13 (when music ceases
to be a compulsory part of the curriculum for all students in the UK). Some of these schools
had close to 50% of a school year group selecting Music and/or Music Technology for GCSE
or Business and Technology Education Council (BTEC),3 and all showed great improvement
in the general levels of enjoyment in music across the age range, thanks to the deployment of
music technology. Rather than being seen as a threat to traditional music education, the report
suggests that increased engagement with music technology across the music curriculum (rather
than as a separate subject, ‘Music Technology’, with its own agenda distinct from ‘Music’
proper) could assist the very survival of music as a mainstream discipline in the UK.
There is no space in the present context for more detail of the findings in the report, but
it is perhaps worth dwelling on one particular issue which is of interest for present purposes.
The issue in question is in regard to performance for public examination, wherein a dis-
crepancy arose between two teachers in regard to how the exam boards would respond to
technology-based performance (Dale, 2020, pp. 20–21). Specifically, a teacher in one school
stated that he had never used technology for an assessed GCSE or A-level performance and
that he ‘couldn’t imagine doing that’ or is at least ‘nervy of the assessment process, moder-
ation process, things like that’. This, he went on to say, was because ‘I have a genuine fear
that people [who do moderation] don’t understand the use of technology’ (p. 20).
In another school, however, it was reported that a boy ‘about 4 years ago who did his
GCSE performance on a launch pad, which was the first time we’d ever had it’, had achieved
full marks for the assessed and moderated GCSE performance. The teacher recalled, fur-
thermore, that the student got an A grade overall. Clearly, then, it is possible to use music
technology for assessed performances with at least some examination boards in the UK.
Nonetheless, many of the teachers who participated in the Tech Champions project clearly
remained anxious. Another example is a teacher who had recently worked with a local DJ
educator in order to assess a DJ performance for a GCSE qualification. She and her col-
leagues brought in the DJ specialist because they were certain ‘about how incredible [the
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  255
learner’s] performance was, but we were anxious because we didn’t necessarily know all the
skills that [the student] was doing’. The teacher went on to say that

One music teacher that I spoke to said “well, the examiner’s probably not going to
understand so just put whatever!” I thought, “how can they listen to it and not under-
stand?” … We marked it as best we could, justified it on the form and we’ll just have
to see in the Summer.
(Dale, 2020, p. 20)

Such anxiety may not be well founded, judging from a revelation by another of the teachers
in the project. Revealing that she works as a moderator for a leading exam board, the teacher
conceded that she had not submitted an Ableton-based GCSE performance herself. She asserted,
however, that she knew it is being done and expressed absolute faith in the moderators’ work.
Overall, then, the Tech Champions project suggests that there is great potential for im-
pact on music education, and on learners, if music technology gains a stronger foothold in
music education not just as a separate subject from music proper but as a complementary
element within the whole spectrum of music education. Such a shift would doubtless allow
more coverage of Hip-hop and other forms of contemporary music that have such popular-
ity in urban areas of the UK and across the globe. One barrier (judging from the quotations
just offered from the Tech Champions report) might well be not the exam boards and other
elements of ‘the music establishment’ but the internalised prejudices and/or assumptions made by
the teaching workforce. Indeed, the datum mentioned above that a tech-based GCSE perfor-
mance had achieved full marks (as ratified by the exam board’s moderation process) suggests
that teacher anxieties and predispositions might be a greater barrier to the integration of
Hip-hop than any institutional bias against Hip-hop. This point alone underscores the need
for a huge cultural shift in music education practices.

By Way of Conclusion
This chapter has shown that Hip-hop, and related contemporary urban musics, can im-
pact greatly on the health and well-being of people of differing age groups but, perhaps
especially, young people and, more particularly still, youth in challenging circumstances
(YICC). The work which has been described herein is exemplary, but there are many indi-
viduals and projects across the globe making similar efforts to allow and encourage creative
expressions using contemporary urban music-making modes such as rapping, DJing, beat
making and so forth. Beyond the work which has been described in this chapter, projects
which are affiliated to the CUMiN network include:

• Hip-Hop Education Center (USA) with a mission statement to achieve ‘social change
and equity by influencing the field of education to be more inclusive and culturally
responsive to students’
• Grime Pays (London) run by Ruff Sqwad Arts Foundation, whose mission is ‘to create
meaningful cultural engagement opportunities for young people, and give them access
to mainstream resources, opportunities, and progression pathways, by integrating high
quality arts, youth work, industry connections, and enterprise’
• The May Project (London), which uses Hip-hop and permaculture to educate and em-
power young people to be healthy and entrepreneurial, and to grow their communities
• The Lapsed Clubber Project (Manchester), which works with former or older clubbers to
document rave music and culture as national heritage
256  Pamela Burnard et al.
• Ark-T (Oxford), which uses Hip-hop and associated contemporary music-making
modes to tackle issues of self-discovery, self-knowledge and a sense of freedom in ed-
ucational contexts
• Future DJs (Knutsford), which notes that UK exam boards now recognise DJ decks as a
musical instrument alongside the piano, violin or guitar, with a lot of demand from stu-
dents but few teachers with the skills, resources and experience to meet this d­ emand –
Future DJs seeks to fill that gap.

This is a far from exhaustive list of the projects which will be presented at CUMiN workshops
in 2022 and our major conference in 2023. The commonality across this list of CUMiN par-
ticipants is that participation in creative activity relating to contemporary urban music mak-
ing of one sort or another can bring significant benefits to participants but, at the same time,
there are barriers to such benefits being realised. These barriers take differing forms: for the
Lapsed Clubber Project, the barrier is recognition of ‘rave’ as a cultural and musical moment
which can stand alongside rock, pop and classical music as a locus of important national her-
itage; for DJ educators, the barrier looks less to be the ‘music establishment’ in its institutional
form (the exam boards) than the character of the music teaching workforce and its (probably
unconscious or semi-conscious) biases, anxieties and predispositions.
The barriers to unlocking creative benefits that can arise from (or in relation to) Hip-
hop and other contemporary forms of music that are typically popular in urban (or ‘inner
city’) contexts are manifold. Not all such barriers are institutional, as just mentioned – some
will arise from a sense that contemporary urban music forms such as Hip-hop do not quite
belong in mainstream education and in the wider thoroughfare of mainstream culture and
society. Such prejudices are rarely made explicit, although, when probing questions are
asked, they can come to the fore (e.g., Dale, 2020, p. 20). Nonetheless, a sense that Hip-hop
and related areas of contemporary music are somehow lacking in creativity (‘a DJ is just
someone who plays records’; ‘rappers can’t sing’; ‘beat making is music-by-numbers’) or just
plain inferior is palpable in many social and cultural contexts.
The impact of the projects such as those that are participating in CUMiN is perhaps due,
in part at least, to such challenges: it is perhaps due to the surprise that someone is taking
such music seriously that impacts on health and well-being can be achieved. A ‘perhaps’ is
not enough, however. We need to know exactly what the impact is, why it is arising and to
what extent it can be measured. CUMiN is beginning its life as a network with precisely
this as its first goal: asking what the impact really is and how we can measure it. At pres-
ent, the network is still in its fact-finding stage with regard to this pressing matter, but our
findings will be disseminated through our forthcoming website, through an edited book
due for publication around 2023 and, of course, through the workshops and conference
for which the UK funding body Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC)4 has
generously funded for the 2021–2023 period. It is not easy, at present, to say what the main
lessons are for mainstream music curricula, therefore. What is certain, however, is that we –
we in the music education field, but also in the wider society that produces the educational
field and is simultaneously structured and moulded by the educational field – need to recog-
nise the creative interests, passions and skills of all learners, of all citizens, if we truly seek an
inclusive society. In an urban context, but also beyond the inner-city context, the chances
are today that Hip-hop and related forms of music making will be precisely where many
young people (and many older folk too) are placing their interest, their passion and their
very real (if under-recognised) musical skills. Perhaps the greatest lesson for mainstream
music curricula, therefore, is to listen: the interest is out there, and the impact of listening
to the interests of learners could be significant. Let us listen, then, for a music curriculum
which is too far out of step with contemporary tastes can only be at risk of obsolescence.
 Pursuing Diversity and Inclusivity through Hip-Hop Music Genres  257
Questions for Consideration
1 What might Hip-hop music offer your curriculum? How might you find innovative ways
to expand the curriculum, allowing more space and time for the inclusion of Hip-hop
music to become integrated within the curriculum? ‘Integrate’ here includes collaborating
with professional performing artists and seeing the connections between music genres.
2 How might you engage in documenting who/what/how/when your students learn
from a curriculum which features Hip-hop music (e.g., how is Hip-hop music mapped
geographically and chronologically and compared across dominant geographic locales
such as the United States, China, Europe)?
3 What are your concerns around the accessibility and inclusiveness of music education? How
does/might your programme communicate diversity and inclusion using Hip-hop?

Notes
1 Hip-hop pedagogy is a form of teaching that takes the most popular genre of music in the United
States and uses it to foster success in the classroom. For example, hip-hop pedagogy offers a way of
authentically and practically incorporating the creative elements of hip-hop into teaching by inviting
students to have a connection with the content while meeting them on their cultural turf, by teaching
to and through their realities and experiences. Critical Hip-hop Pedagogy (CHHP) addresses deep-
rooted ideologies to social inequities and social injustice by creating a space in teacher education
courses for prospective teachers to re-examine their knowledge of hip-hop as it intersects with class,
gender, sexuality, religion, nationality, race and racism and intersects with other forms of oppression.
2 For examples of how these practices are embedded with digital technology see CEO/Founder Si-
mon Glenister’s, award-winning social enterprise Noise Solution which leverages the power of digital
music technology to teach DJing, MCing/rapping and making beats (see https://virtual.digilead-
ers.com/talks/digital-youthwork-a-case-study-of-noise-solutions-sector-leading-work-in-digital-­
youthwork-now-and-in-opportunities-in-the-future/).
3 BTECs are specialist work-related qualifications. They combine practical learning with subject and
theory content. There are over 2,000 BTEC qualifications across 16 sectors that are available from
entry level through to professional qualifications at level 7 (equivalent to postgraduate study).
4 The AHRC funds a wide range of subjects and disciplines from history and archaeology to philoso-
phy and languages and is invested in discovering new ways of understanding human culture. See ukri.
org/ahrc.

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Part 4

Playing the Changes

Attuning to Diverse Creativities in Practice

In schooling there are structures in place that resist the inclusion of more diverse and inter-
esting versions of creativities in practice. To counteract these structures and their principles,
scholar/researcher/practitioners undergo change processes that unfold and progress in much
the same way as the efforts of expert improvisers.
Fuller and Humberstone take a philosophical exploratory perspective on change with a
chapter on the “tired pendulum.”
Akuno unpacks what a transformation in the Kenyan music education system means for
communities in Kenya.
Kladder and Cremata consider what creating spaces for songwriters, collaborators, and
musicians has meant at Ithaca College in New York.
Humberstone and Sandiford examine activist pluralism in conservatory education.
Lauren Yacht makes a case for music education to adopt a collaborative pedagogical
model in large ensemble music classrooms.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-26
262  Playing the Changes
23 The Pendulum Swings Tired
Dewey’s Passivity, Activity, and Creativity
in a Progressive Secondary Music
Classroom
Brad Fuller and James Humberstone

Background
The template for the contemporary debate about education in Western democracies can
perhaps be traced to Massachusetts in the middle of the 19th century. Foreshadowing tactics
that would be employed by politicians for generations, reformers described a school system
in the 1830s that had “degenerated into routine and was starved by parsimony” (Wright,
1930, p. 364). Furthermore, they maintained: “Any hovel would answer for a schoolhouse;
any primer would do for a textbook; and any farmer’s apprentice was competent to keep
school” (Wright, 1930, p. 364). The proposed solution to arrest this decline in standards
was to introduce state-sponsored teacher’s training, according to the Prussian model, in
institutions known as “Normal Schools” (Ogren, 2005, p. 15).
With the mission to “improve the deplorable condition of the public schools” (Wright,
1930, p. 364) overseen by the newly established State Board of Education, Normal Schools
began the process of standardisation of education through teacher training from the late
1830s according to the “Normal” model. However, the normal model was contentious
from the beginning, and was under continuous attack, especially from followers of Swiss
pedagogues such as Pestalozzi and Froebel who espoused a “hands-on” approach over text-
books (Herbst, 2002; Reese, 2013).
In an 1890 address, leading education advocate Louisa Parsons Stone Hopkins outlined
the struggle:

It has been difficult to escape from the traditions of an exclusively book education.
The grammar schools, as their name indicates, have tied the child to the dead past,
and confined him to the medieval form of brain activity and thought expression, until
his connective tissues have ceased to be sensitive to the environment of nature, and he
forgets the material and laws that touch him on every side: he observes nothing; he
discovers nothing; he constructs nothing.

(1892, p. 9)

The paper was published in a widely read book with the title The Spirit of the New Education
and thus, by the dawn of the 20th century, the battle of “Old education” vs “New educa-
tion” was underway. Writing almost a decade later, New education’s most famous advocate,
John Dewey, joined the debate as he decried students’ “passive and inert recipiency” (1899,
p. 29) in the old model in favour of a new student-centred “active work” (1899, p. 29) ap-
proach that would become the hallmark of constructivist education.
Our framework for understanding the Old vs New education debate that raged over the
course of the 20th century and into the 21st comes from Dewey’s Experience and Education.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-27
264  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone
The lecture was published in 1938 following over 40 years of observation of, participation
in, and reflection on the efforts to establish a new method of education in schools. Attempt-
ing to explain the inclination towards characterising education as a choice between the Old
and the New, Dewey observes:

MANKIND likes to think in terms of extreme opposites. It is given to formulat-

ing its beliefs in terms of Either-Ors, between which it recognizes no intermediate
possibilities.

(1938, p. 17)

This oppositional thinking underpins the battleground between Old and New education,
or traditional education and progressive education. Dewey describes the New education as
“…a product of discontent with traditional education. In effect it is a criticism of the latter”
(1938, p. 18).
He defines Old vs New as a set of oppositions:

• Imposition from above vs Expression and Cultivation

• External discipline vs Free Activity
• Learning from texts and teachers vs Learning through experience
• Acquisition of isolated skills and techniques by drill vs Acquisition of them as means of
attaining ends which make direct vital appeal
• Preparation for a more or less remote future vs Making the most of the opportunities
of present life
• Static aims and materials vs Acquaintance with a changing world (1938, pp. 19–20)

Dewey connects these educational “pendulum swings” (Pogrow, 2006, p. 146) to social
movements. He says:

ALL SOCIAL movements involve conflicts which are reflected intellectually in con-
troversies. It would not be a sign of health if such an important social interest as edu-
cation were not also an arena of struggles, practical and theoretical. But for theory, at
least for the theory that forms a philosophy of education, the practical conflicts and the
controversies that are conducted upon the level of these conflicts, only set a problem.
It is the business of an intelligent theory of education to ascertain the causes for the
conflicts that exist and then, instead of taking one side or the other, to indicate a plan
of operations proceeding from a level deeper and more inclusive than is represented by
the practices and ideas of the contending parties.

(1938, p. 5)

Unfortunately, as Pogrow (2006) identifies, the last 120 years have been marked by educa-
tors taking sides. Dewey explains this seemingly inevitable Old to New pendulum swing:

…every movement in the direction of a new order of ideas and of activities directed by
them calls out, sooner or later, a return to what appear to be simpler and more funda-
mental ideas and practices of the past.

(1938, pp. 5–6)

 The Pendulum Swings Tired  265
The Pendulum Swings
A review of the literature reveals over 200 years of pendulum swings between the New and
the Old education since the industrial revolution at the dawn of the 19th century, as shown
in Figure 23.1. The old industrial model of education, as a mirror of efficiency embodied by
the production line (Allen, 1979), spread from its Prussian origins via American state-spon-
sored teacher training institutions and method books which began to develop a “theory and
art of teaching” (Ogren, 2005, p. 33). Subsequent swings align with historical moments
and societal changes: the reaction to an over-industrialisation of education resulted in a
(pendulum) swing towards New education in the final decades of the 19th century, with a
focus on education for social progress and reform (Yengo, 1964) as exemplified in the ear-
lier quotes of Hopkins (1892) and Dewey (1899). The pendulum swung again towards the
Old with the pressures of WWII, the subsequent Cold War (Conner & Bohan, 2014), and
Russia’s early dominance of the space race, epitomised by the launch of its Sputnik satellite,
prompting calls for “Back-to-Basics” in education around the Western world (Kapalka
Richerme, 2012).
War, this time in Vietnam, influenced in the next swing (Cuban, 2004). As the counter-
culture movement impelled the pendulum towards the New (Dale, 1979; O’Banion, 1978;
Reese, 2013), Neil Postman and Weingartner published Teaching as a Subversive Activity
(1969) with the subtitle A No-Holds-Barred Assault on Outdated Teaching Methods—with Dra-
matic and Practical Proposals on How Education Can Be Made Relevant to Today’s World to ensure
his views on the Old education were clear. Postman defined the essential function of schools
was to help students to develop a “built-in, shockproof crap detector” (p. 3).
As Reganomics and Thatcherism took hold in the 1980s, the development of the neolib-
eral agenda pulled education back towards the Old because, as Margaret Thatcher declared,
there was “no other choice” (Thatcher, in Ward, 2012, p. 3). Popular musicians captured
the zeitgeist, as Sting sang “I hope the Russians Love Their Children Too” about the ter-
ror of potential nuclear Mutually Assured Destruction (Strauss, 2018; Wittner, 2003), and
Simply Red added “Money’s Too Tight to Mention”, as Western economies dealt with
recessions and the consequences of globalisation (Harvey, 2007). The seeds of the “Global
Education Reform Movement” or “GERM” (Sahlberg, 2015, p. 203) were sown in this
swing with an emphasis on standards, norms, and excellence (Kapalka Richerme, 2012).
The final swing back to New came as the emergence of the personal computer (PC) and
the dawn of a new millennium fostered a new term: “21st Century Skills” (Lucas, 2019).
Echoing Dewey’s observation from a century earlier about “a society where change is the
rule, not the exception” (1938, p. 19), Prensky declared: “Today’s students are no longer
the people our educational system was designed to teach” (2001, p. 1). In a renewal of the
progressive agenda reminiscent of Hopkins’ “dead past” (1892), he labelled the traditional
curriculum “Legacy Content” (Prensky, 2001, p. 4) which was “for the most part, stale,
bland, and almost entirely stuff from the past” (2005, p. 62). “Future Content” (Prensky,
2001, p. 6) was described as “digital and technological” (Prensky, 2001, p. 5) and would
reinstate the “ethics, politics, sociology, languages and other things that go with them”
(2001, p. 5). Educators would need a “major translation and change of methodology” with
the students as the “guides” (2001, pp. 5–6) who would be “empowered to choose what
they want … see what interests them … and to create their own personalised identity—as
they are in the rest of their lives” (2005, p. 62). In the same period, the United States-based
Partnership for 21st Century Learning was established “as the pioneers [and] champions of
the 4Cs (Critical Thinking, Communication, Collaboration, and Creativity)” (Battelle for
Kids, n.d.). The 20th century had had its 3Rs: the 21st, it was argued, should have 4 Cs.
266  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone

Figure 23.1  Pendulum swings from old to new in education.

The Pendulum Swings and Music Education

As a subset of education, approaches to classroom music education have “swayed with [the]
ideological winds” generated by pendulum swings (Benedict, 2016, p. 10). Music educa-
tion in schools has its own set of contested values, aims, objectives, and methods (Elliott &
Silverman, 2014), and as the pendulum has swung from Old to New, music education ap-
proaches which align with the prevailing values have moved in and out of favour, as shown
in Figure 23.1.
As music education was folded into the emerging compulsory public school curricula in
the United States, the orthodox approach was for “scientific music”, conforming to Euro-
pean standards, to be taught using the “scientific methods” (Mark, 2008, p. 40) espoused in
the Normal Schools. Flagging this connection, the most influential music text of the period,
“The Normal Music Course”, centred around instruction in sight singing (Mark, 2008, p.
100). Music was seen as an extra-curricular pursuit in English schools, with the tradition of
private, paid instrumental instruction already established and syllabi provided by the music
examination boards (Pitts, 2019). Setting a precedent for Australian educators to look to
England and the United States for curricula and methods, the Australian Music Examina-
tion Board was established following the English model and was responsible for developing
the first syllabus for classroom instruction for New South Wales in 1958 (Bridges, 1970).
As the pendulum swung in general education in the United States, the “scientific” ap-
proach to music education was eschewed in line with the new, progressive agenda. Text-
book publishers also realigned, releasing The Progressive Music Series (Mark, 2008), and the
fledgeling Music Supervisors National Council urged music teacher training institutions to
readjust their curricula according to progressive ideals. While music became an “integral
 The Pendulum Swings Tired  267
part of the curriculum” (Mark, 2008, p. 198), the subject also expanded. The invention of
the phonograph and the radio facilitated the introduction of music appreciation in Amer-
ican and English schools, and instrumental ensembles were welcomed because they were
seen to promote progressive ideals (Mark, 2008; Pitts, 2019).
As music finally joined the high school curriculum in New South Wales, Australia, Sput-
nik launched a potential threat to music’s place in the US school curriculum and American
music educators again looked to European pedagogues and science for legitimacy (Bennett,
1987; Steele, 1992). When Dewey’s philosophical support for music lost its currency, the
profession rallied to find a new foundation. Music education as aesthetic education emerged
as the dominant philosophical underpinning of the era with an emphasis on Western Art
Music (WAM) and the study of music for its own value (Rinsema, 2016; Woodford, 2012).
With the swing to New ideals in the mid-1960s, a philosophy centred around WAM aes-
thetics was increasingly unsuitable for the “realities of a pluralistic society” (­McCarthy &
Goble, 2002, p. 22). Whilst philosophers wrestled over a way forward, composers found
a voice in music education on both sides of the Atlantic, because creativity was privileged
in movements such as Comprehensive Musicianship (Willoughby, 1971) in the United
States, and the Creative Music Movement in England and Canada (Pitts, 1998). In New
South Wales, Bridges called for a “complete reappraisal of music education at all levels”
to incorporate the ideas of both movements to “keep pace with twentieth century needs”
(1970, p. 4).
During the next swing to the Old in the 1980s and 1990s, music education experienced a
“legitimation crisis” (Louth, 2018) as music was no longer considered a core subject in the
United States. This time the response from the profession was to turn to advocacy rather
than examine and adapt philosophical or pedagogical practices. Excellent public perfor-
mances and an appearance of academic rigour were thought to be the best weapons to com-
bat decreased funding and enrolments in elective programmes (Kapalka Richerme, 2012).
Finally, the most recent progressive swing to the New, 21st Century Learning, offered an
opportunity for classroom music teachers to explore methods aligned with New education
ideals such as informal music education (Dyndahl & Nielsen, 2014; Green, 2002, 2008)
and praxial music education philosophy (Elliot, 1995). The creative and collaborative work
taking place in these classrooms looked similar in nature to work being carried out in other
subjects under the banner of “Project Based Learning” (Bender, 2012), allowing a degree
of flexibility and legitimacy for subversive music teachers.

Passivity, Activity, and Creativity

According to Burnard, “having creativity is a necessary condition for having music” (2012,
p. 8). However, until the 1960s, music education, in line with the Old, was “driven by
music of the past”. “Engaging with sound in a creative way” was thought to be outside of
the remit of the classroom as this kind of musical activity was reserved for an “elite species
of musician: the composer” (Pitts, 2019, p. 76). Music education based on the Old, passive
model has limited use for creativity as passive and inert students are taught to “appreciate”
the music of past masters through passive listening, perform “as the composer intended”,
and compose using teacher-supplied formulae. Similarly, creativity isn’t important for
teachers either as the authorities determine how they teach according to “the evidence”
of “what works” and content is supplied via textbooks. Furthermore, as the repertoire for
study is restricted to the canon of Western Art Music (WAM) masterworks, the pluralist
conception of musical creativities (Burnard, 2012) that “can take many forms, can play a
wide range of functions, and are deeply embedded in the dynamic mutation and flux of a
musician’s personal and sociocultural life” (p. 214) is replaced with the myth that musical
268  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone
creativity is a “singular phenomenon” (p. 37) and that “only a small proportion of children
are ‘musical’ or ‘creative’” (p. 25).
In stark contrast, Dewey’s “creative ontology” (Stoller, 2018) underpins the New. The
New classroom centres present-focussed inquiry, activity, and creativity. Stoller says that
inquiry is “a mode of creative inhibition that is enacted in and through the world” that
“serves as a significant corrective to dehumanising effects of traditional [Old] education.”
Dewey’s active classroom becomes a “site of social self-formation” (2018, p. 48) where the
self is a “creative construction that emerges from an ongoing process of inquiry” (p. 51)
through “conscious reflection on meaningful action” (p. 54). Hence, the act of inquiry
“does not simply change what [students] know, but it changes who [the students] are”
(p. 59). Dewey’s creative ontology is congruent with Burnard’s (2012) pluralisation of mu-
sical creativities which calls on teachers to extend “teaching practices in light of contempo-
rary music and new forms of musical creativity” (p. 238). She says “musical creativity . . .
occurs in social spaces, in ‘situation-specific’ ways” (p. 38)
Teachers’ creativity is also restored and required in the New education. For Dewey, teach-
ing becomes a process of providing “an environment in which native powers will be put
to better uses” (Dewey, 1916, p. 125). Reconceived as “Creative Pedagogues” (Abramo &
Reynolds, 2015) teachers employ “creative strategies when instructing and designing cur-
ricula, even when creativity is not the explicit topic of the lesson” (p. 38). Within the
classroom, Tudor (2008) believes that teachers need to “conscientiously model creative
priorities and behaviours” by “enacting, as well as encouraging, conceptual exploration and
contextual freedom in students” (Tudor, 2008, p. 9).

Pendulum Swings and Bruising Adjustments

Herein lies a powerful tension for the classroom music educator. During a lifetime
(hopefully) in the music classroom, the teacher will be subject to pendulum swings in
general education pedagogy which may impact music syllabus writers or exert direct
forces on teachers’ personal pedagogy through their community of practice. How they
choose to “remain or react” (Kapalka Richerme, 2012, p. 35) may require “bruising
adjustments” (Herbst, 2002, p. 318) to what they do each day in the music classroom.
This will determine whether their practice is congruent with what is happening in the
classrooms of other subjects in the school, and therefore whether the teacher is deter-
mined to be compliant with the school’s general direction or considered contumacious
by those in power.
The literature has shown that at the macro-level that classroom music educators are slow
to adopt or adapt to changes in practice (Humberstone, 2017), but what is the impact at the
micro-level on progressive classroom music teachers when the pendulum swings? This led
us to formulate our research questions:

• Does a swing from the New (active) to the Old (passive) in Australia affect a cut-
ting-edge (New) music programme and its creator-educator?
• What are the implications for music education and educators in Australia and beyond?

Methods
Our project seeks to compare recollections of the lived experience of a progressive class-
room music educator with archived data from their school’s own website over the last dec-
ade, and to use Dewey’s rich descriptions of the Old and the New to accurately identify the
suggested pendulum swings in those publicly published data.
 The Pendulum Swings Tired  269
The data were therefore, drawn from two sources: first, from the experiences of a head
classroom music teacher in a co-ed non-government secondary school in Sydney, Aus-
tralia, who had led the development of a school programme through a pendulum swing,
in a researcher-participant role (Barter & Renold, 1999). Second, to confirm that changes
the teacher observed were also articulated by the school, we analysed Internet Archive
snapshots of the school’s website over ten years (Braun & Clarke, 2006), from the time
that it declared its intention to “Lead the Change” (NBCS, 2011), to the current day, fol-
lowing many leadership and staffing changes, in which it describes its heart as “academic
excellence” (NBCS, 2021), to compare changes in the language. We collected the text
under similar headings and then coded individually before meeting to discuss and negotiate
emerging, then final themes (Saldaña, 2016).
A further source of triangulation was the involvement of the second researcher, the
researcher-teacher’s doctoral supervisor, to deal with any bias that might arise from the
emotional involvement and dual emic-etic position (Bresler & Stake, 2006) of the teach-
er-researcher, while recognising that any qualitative subject matter “concerns the product
of human minds and as such is inseparably connected to our minds, bringing along all
our subjectivities, cognitions, emotions, and values” (p. 371), and, we would add, politics.
The second researcher’s job was not to question the personal narrative of the teacher but
to ensure that what was experienced could be observed in both data sets and understood
(Bazeley, 2020, p. 216). In this role, the second researcher challenged the teacher-researcher
to begin by providing vignettes (Barter & Renold, 1999) from the early and late periods
of nine years’ teaching at the school that might best represent their experiences at different
ends of the pendulum swings. Here is the first:

Vignette 1
My approach to classroom music education is based on my identity as a self-taught electric
bassist who left the life of a touring rock band musician to study jazz and improvisation and
complete a one-year teaching qualification only as the classic “something to fall back on” op-
tion. By the time I chose to “fall back” on teaching, I had ten years of experience as a gigging
musician in almost every style and context imaginable and my brief training in music teaching
was a distant and not very pleasant memory.
Try as I may, I couldn’t reconcile the “stick it to the man” worldview which attracted me
to music in the first place with the “authoritarian, didactic, students must be shown how to
do it before they do it” approach of teaching in the mid-1990s. I employed all of the tools
of the authoritarian playbook, like lunch time detentions, but I could never remember them
and when I did, I felt like I was being punished. Then, after a few weeks of misery, I found
some neglected rock band instruments in a cupboard, set them up and changed my life. For
the 25 years that have elapsed since that seminal moment, I’ve been riffing on the theme of
“Invite students to form bands with their friends and all work together to create music we
enjoy making”.
Over the years, depending on the school and depending on the swing of the pedagogical pen-
dulum my approach has been characterised as “barely satisfactory” (my final practicum report)
to “best practice” and back again. I have only recently begun to understand how the swings
have affected my self-identity as a musician-teacher, my job satisfaction, and, more broadly, my
general well-being.
The pendulum swung in my favour in late 2011 when I was invited to a school where the
website boldly declared “Lead the Change”. My task was to lead the change by converting
two classrooms into a custom environment for creative, active music making that integrated
270  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone
the physical space with the virtual and pedagogical, to which I later added technological. The
leadership of the school embraced the notion that the 21st century was presenting new, unique,
uncertain, ever-changing, and unknown challenges for educators and students to prepare for
an uncharted future. Their response was to attempt to foster a culture where discovery, exper-
imentation, and “failing forward” were championed.
For the first time, my messy, noisy, active, student-driven classroom fit with what was hap-
pening in other classrooms (we called them “learning spaces”). I was able to pin my approach
to phrases approved by the leadership and used by practitioners from other disciplines such
as “open classrooms”; “student directed or centred”; “Project-Based Learning”; “The 4 Cs:
Creativity, Collaboration, Critical Thinking, Communication”; “authentic learning and assess-
ment”; “Real Audience Project”; “technology enhanced learning”; “Blended Learning”; “guide
on the side”; “Informal Learning”; and “collaborative team teaching”. Simply by moving from
one school to the next, adding five minutes to my short commute, I was transformed from tol-
erated maverick to visionary.

Further Contexts (in Australia or/and Beyond?)

In 2016, the second researcher published a Massive Open Online Course (MOOC), The
Place of Music in 21st Century Education (Humberstone, 2016), that has had over 6,000 partic-
ipants. It was designed to contrast the Old and the New in music pedagogies.
Particularly striking about the programme this chapter is investigating was the scaffold-
ing of musical learning not only through technology but through the carefully designed
space, which allowed a class of up to 60 students to be rehearsing, researching, recording,
mastering, producing, or performing on a stage, all at the same time. The pedagogy so
closely matched the spaces and the technology that students moved around the space with
intent and confidence as shown in a submission to the Media Journal of Music Education
(Fuller & Orenstein, 2017) at the time.

The Inevitable Swing to the Old

…every movement in the direction of a new order of ideas and of activities directed by them calls
out, sooner or later, a return to what appear to be simpler and more fundamental ideas and practices
of the past.

(Dewey, 1938, p. 9)

As foreshadowed by Dewey, the swing towards the Old was underway even as the school
was impacting classroom music teachers around the globe, through initiatives such as
Humberstone’s MOOC. The New South Wales Government had been infected by
GERM (Sahlberg, 2015) and created the Centre for Education Statistics and Evaluation
(CESE). In 2014, CESE published a document largely based on Hattie’s metastudies (An-
derman & Hattie, 2013; Hattie, 2009; Hattie & Timperley, 2007) with the title of What
Works Best (Centre for Education Statistics and Evaluation, 2014). CESE subsequently
claimed that it was “popular and well-used” (Centre for Education Statistics and Evalu-
ation, 2020, p. 4).
However, during reflection writing, the first researcher realised that What Works Best did
not become part of the school’s philosophy until a new principal was engaged.
 The Pendulum Swings Tired  271

Vignette 2
The pendulum struck me hard over the course of 2019/2020. Our visionary principal was re-
placed by a new principal with a mandate to improve the school’s HSC results and move the
school up in rankings1 to a position more congruent with the socio-economic status of its aff lu-
ent community and the aspirations of middle-class parents.
As if overnight, I felt under siege as walls were reconstructed to recreate classrooms where
open learning spaces had once stood. The trademark building – the Sydney Centre for Innova-
tion in Learning (SCIL) Building – a “pedagogical playground” (NBCS, 2011), was retrofitted,
renamed, and returned to its original state – the library. My job title morphed from “Learn-
ing Leader” to “Head of Department” to ensure it was clear to all that the factory model had
returned.
The watershed moment, for me, came at a Heads of Department meeting when the principal
announced that a teacher who had taught at our school under the previous regime had shared a
journal article titled “Why Minimal Guidance During Instruction Does Not Work: An Analy-
sis of the Failure of Constructivist, Discovery, Problem-Based, Experiential, and Inquiry-Based
Teaching” (Kirschner et al., 2006). The article was set as a reading for the next meeting with
the subtext that this would prove that the failure of the previous regime to produce the required
HSC Band 6s was primarily due to poor pedagogy. This was followed up with the announce-
ment that the school would now create a “Learning Framework” based on the recently released
“What Works Best: 2020 Update” (Centre for Education Statistics and Evaluation, 2020). As I
scanned the room for a mirror, I checked my look of shock and horror, only to see heads nod-
ding in approval. It was over, the pendulum had swung again, and I had metamorphosed from
visionary to maverick. But this time there was no place for mavericks.

Findings
Through dialogic review, we established the code Outwardly progressive, which appeared
solely under the 2011 website and published documents. We used the word Outwardly to
signify that this was not a school seeking to balance the progressive and the traditional (or
the Old and the New), this was a school promoting itself on its progressive agenda. Phrases
coded as outwardly progressive included “… exists to transform education through changed
pedagogy” (NBCS, 2011a); “We believe new technologies provide outstanding opportu-
nities for students and staff to break away from the boundaries of a traditional classroom
environment, enabling powerful learning as students discover and connect with their wider
world” (NBCS, 2011b para. 2); and (we) “create an educational climate that is not only
comfortable with change, but actively seeks to experiment with new technologies in order
to improve pedagogy” (Harris, 2010, p. 7).
By comparison, on the current website, even under the heading “World Class Facilities”,
the description of the learning spaces is toned down (“spaces [can be] partitioned for more
focused learning within year groups” (NBCS, 2021a, para. 2), and totally removed from any
embedded progressive pedagogy “be inspired by unexpected spaces” (NBCS, 2014a, para. 3).
In discussions about changes in recent years, the first researcher described traditional class-
room furniture being returned to classrooms and dividing walls being built. We see in this
emerging theme a clear alignment with what Dewey described as the “Static aims and ma-
terials” of the Old, vs “Acquaintance with a changing world” (1938, pp. 19–20) of the New.
In addition to noting this in the website documentation, we noted the same shift in
videos extolling the virtues of the school with phrases such as “trying to move away from
272  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone
the industrial paradigm of schooling” (NBCS, 2011d) set against “We aim to build a high
performance, low stress culture” (NBCS, 2021b), in the principals’ promotional video
addresses.
Not all emerging themes were quite so black and white. The High Expectations (extrinsic/
external) theme was coded to text that was published on both the archived and current
websites. The (extrinsic/external) component of this theme was important because it signified
that the school and the child’s parents ought to have high expectations for the child, rather
than the child themselves. Both eras used language evocative of the Old by expecting the
“highest possible academic outcomes” (NBCS, 2011d, para. 1) or “academic excellence”
and “high expectations” (NBCS, 2021c, para. 5). However, the High Expectations code is
approximately twice as prevalent in the current era and is a direct reference to terminology
used in the What Works Best documentation (Centre for Education Statistics and Evalua-
tion, 2014, 2020). In Deweyan terms, we see evidence of the dichotomy he described as
“Imposition from above vs Expression and Cultivation” (1938, pp. 19–20), where the outside
expectations are placed “upon” the student from above, rather than allowing a student to
cultivate their own expectations for themselves, part of young adult identity formation.
Of the dozen codes that we generated, Autonomy (Learner or Teacher) probably speaks
most to the Deweyan ideal. Like the Outwardly progressive theme, Autonomy was coded al-
most exclusively to the language and media in the 2011 era websites. It might be expected
that the progressive student-centred and project-based learning described earlier should
involve a lot of student autonomy – for students to learn what they want, when they
want, how they want. But we also identified a strong emphasis on the autonomy of the
teacher in the 2011 era with phrases like “empowerment of teachers” (Harris, 2014, p. 3),
“opportunities to embrace the challenges of the pedagogic shift” (Harris, 2014, p. 3), and
“innovate and experiment” (p. 3). This code is littered throughout the Professional De-
velopment webpages and goes hand in hand with the progressive pedagogies the school
is promoting. It is especially revealing because teacher autonomy is never expressed in
texts of the current era: on the contrary, codes we developed about teachers and teaching
there included Language about doing things to staff or students: “We shape and engage talented
Christian staff” (NBCS, 2021d, para. 1), “…we are shaping confident, resilient students”
(NBCS, 2021e, para. 1).
The connection between the New and the Old and whether the learner or teacher has au-
tonomy is very strong, and clearly reflects many of the arguments that Dewey identified in
1938: “External discipline vs Free Activity”, “Learning from texts and teachers vs Learning
through experience”, and of course “Acquisition of isolated skills and techniques by drill
vs Acquisition of them as means of attaining ends which make direct vital appeal” (1938,
pp. 19–20). It is clear that Dewey’s pendulum continues to swing.

Vignette 3
During my PhD studies in 2020 I found a book from the series overseen by Clint Randles called
A Different Paradigm in Music Education: Re-examining the Profession. It was published in 2019. In
the last section of the book a vision for the future is proposed:
…an amazing course in music might include any combination of instruments and musi-
cal styles that students in your school find meaningful. Students, collaboratively and cre-
atively, working in small groups … letting students make decisions about what they want
to accomplish, with you serving as a guide, mentor, and advisor … Don’t hold back on
any possibilities – allow acting, dancing, lighting, staging, and anything your students can
 The Pendulum Swings Tired  273
imagine. …where any student could make music they want to make, in ways they want
to make it, while being helped by a teacher. I would think it could become a very pop-
ular option at almost any school. Imagine the possibilities, imagine the potential learning
that could occur, imagine the levels of musicianship students might reach, imagine the
school principal thinking you were pretty awesome!
(Williams, 2019, pp. 104–105)
Wait a second! I thought as I began to read. That’s not a possibility and it’s not the future.
That’s a picture of my music programme! Yes – it was a very exciting musical experience for my
students and myself and it did become a very popular option. The learning and levels of musi-
cianship were astounding. Even more astounding was how much fun we had and how deep the
relationships became. It all happened. We did it.
That last phrase is the kicker though, the pendulum has swung from New to Old and the
only thing I have left to imagine from the description above is the principal thinking I’m pretty
awesome. It turns out that if you don’t time your run to coincide with the pendulum swing, that
last phrase might be the only one that matters.

Conclusion – Creeping Traditionalism

In this chapter we have attempted to demonstrate that while pendulum swings can be
observed as acting upon societies and education systems on a macro-scale, when they are
experienced by an individual classroom teacher, the bruising impact works to restrict the
potential of the teacher to live “the good life of good teaching” (Regelski, 2012, p. 66).
“Nothing is more tragic”, cautions Dewey (1916, p. 318) than “to find that one has drifted
or been forced by circumstances into an uncongenial calling” (p. 318). The drift, or the
“undertow” of “creeping traditionalism”, makes it “possible … to wake up one morning
with the unsettling realization that their school … drifted from the vision of its founders”
(Kohn, 2015, p. 8). The drift in this study was evident from the evolution of the school’s
website messaging its initial acknowledgement of the Old through its pursuit of “high
academic standards”, even as it was undertaking the New via “pedagogical experiments”,
eventually being replaced with “High Expectations” language imported directly from a
government document aimed at improving New South Wales students’ performance on
standardised tests.
By moving from an environment of inquiry, activity, and creativity to one of passive and
inert recipiency, staff and students were separated from the transformational nature of crea-
tive music education. Students once again became empty vessels and staff, mere technicians.
Not only were they stripped of the potential for exploring their musical creativities, by the
reimposition of the Old education, they were once again dehumanised as they were denied
the opportunity to creatively “construct a self from an ongoing process of inquiry” through
“conscious reflection on meaningful action” (Stoller, pp. 51, 54).
Dewey (1938) warns that “any movement”, and we suggest any school, which “be-
comes so involved in reaction against other ‘isms’”, for example the introduction of the
Failure of Constructivist Teaching journal article at a school staff meeting, “is unwittingly
controlled by them. For it then forms its principles by reaction against them instead of
by a comprehensive, constructive survey of actual needs, problems, and possibilities”
(1938, p. 4). The reaction against is again felt on the individual level as an attack on their
practice. Is it possible for a progressive classroom music educator to survive in this kind
of environment? How?
Although offered at a systems level, perhaps we can turn once more to Dewey by adapt-
ing his advice for the individual:
274  Brad Fuller and James Humberstone
It is the business of an intelligent classroom music teacher to ascertain the causes for the con-
flicts that exist and then, instead of taking one side or the other, to indicate a plan of operations
proceeding from a level deeper and more inclusive than is represented by the practices and ideas of
the contending parties.

(1938, p. 5, adaptation in italics)

In reminding the progressive classroom music teacher of the rich history of educators across
the centuries and across the globe searching to find the New education, and by presenting
a personal account of the experience of a classroom music teacher experiencing pendulum
swings, it is hoped other New and would-be-New educators will be able to proceed from
a level “deeper and more inclusive” with the courage to teach with the “Spirit of the New
Education” (Hopkins, 1892) and, ideally, that your principal will think you’re “pretty awe-
some” (Williams, 2019, p. 105).

Questions for Consideration

1 Would you describe yourself as a progressivist, a traditionalist, or something else? Why?
Why is this significant to one’s perception of oneself as a creative practitioner?
2 Have you noticed any of Dewey’s New vs Old either/ors at play in your experience in
education? What is the significance of this for teaching creatively?
3 Have you experienced tension as a result of Old vs New operating in your context?
4 Did the tension affect your practice? If yes, how?
5 How might you apply Dewey’s advice to proceed from a level deeper and more inclu-
sive in your own context?

Note
1 The Sydney Morning Herald newspaper publishes annual rankings for all schools in New South
Wales based on the number of students at each school who achieve a Band 6 (90 or higher) in a course
in the HSC.

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24 The Transformation of the Kenyan
Higher Music Education Space
Emily Achieng’ Akuno1

Conceptual Background
Music is an element of communal configuration and consumption. More than just sound
produced by humans or technology, it is a multiple-participant event, its form and content
often determined by the moment (time) and occasion (space) of its presentation. It incorpo-
rates diverse forms of expression in a harmonised and synchronised presentation that disal-
lows the separation of these constituent expressions. ‘Musical arts’ (Nzewi, 2019) becomes
an apt descriptor to this phenomenon, where song, dance, poetry, drama, design, etc., each
with its set of symbols, merge for meaningful communication.
Whereas necessity may be the ‘mother of invention’, the author finds conflict to be
the stimulus for creativity in cultural practice and education. Ideological and pragmatic
conflicts arise from the content and application of cultural expressions. It has been stated
that culture resides in the mind of the individual (Bennardo, 2018). The mind is, also,
the seat of ideas and perspectives that impact on practice. The conceptualisation that em-
anates from ideas and from their implementation as manifested in practice is often inter-
preted from and through cultural expressions. Yet the expressions have similar functions
in human life, enabling individuals to negotiate their existence in terms of who they are
(identity) individually and collectively (Akuno, 2016). It is therefore reasonable to expect
the arts to be the locus of creative responses to situations that present conflicts. Music
education must therefore play a role in tooling creative responders to life’s conflicting
situations.
Cultural expressions have community-determined ways of enabling us to see ourselves
and to articulate our situations. As avenues of reflection and expression of life and living,
they are identifiers of those who use them (Akuno, 2016), enabling them to understand the
values that define their relationships. This understanding relies on skills and concepts em-
bedded in the arts whose symbols are imbued with meaning by the user communities. Arts
education is hence a process of enabling individuals to acquire a vocabulary of symbols and
actions and to apply them in relating to life in and through their communities.
Culture, the common vocabulary of experiences, is accessed and shared in the com-
munity. But there comes a disruption when something new comes into the environment.
This new information might be new procedures, new symbols of expressions or ways of
interpreting old symbols. It could be from contact with communities whose application
of symbols differs from ours. When the new information creates a conflict with what is
known, the society involved has a choice to make:

– Reject the ‘new’;

– Discard the ‘old’;
– Integrate the ‘new’ with the ‘old’.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-28
 The Transformation of the Kenyan Higher Music Education Space  279

Figure 24.1  CI Model of Creativity (Akuno, 2016).

Figure 24.2  Creating new music styles from cultural and introduced genres.
KEY: TC, Traditional Compositions; KA, Kenyan Art music styles; AR, Arrangement and Adaptation of folk tunes;
WA, Western Art music

The way towards successful utilisation of these resources involves creativity. New vocabu-
lary is developed that amalgamates the ‘old’ and ‘new’ and enables the interrogation and/or
absorption of the new. The vocabulary is both the symbols to represent the ‘new’ concept
and the techniques to apply it within the existing context.
The CI Model of Creativity (Akuno, 2016, pp. 154–156) represents this interaction,
where creativity is the way out of the culture-information (CI) conflict (Figure 24.1).
Consider the following two examples of this interaction.
First, the predominantly folk culture-based Kenyan music scene encountered a music
arrangement that required performance through four unequal voices, notably Soprano, Alto,
Tenor and Bass. The harmonic treatment of this music, for example, as experienced through
(Christian) anthems, was a novelty in an area characterised by unison and heterophonic tex-
tural designs. Exposure to formal Western music harmony enabled music educators to, tak-
ing the folk material as themes, create both adaptation and arrangement of songs.2 Further,
they used the idioms embedded in the indigenous sound systems to create Kenyan art music
genres, such as Wanjala’s Kokoliko3 (Shitubi, 2012). These compositions use conventional
classical Western procedures with thematic material that is idiomatically indigenous to the
Kenyan regions. The culture-information conflict created by the introduction of the new
sound system was resolved through the creation of new music genres that amalgamate pro-
cedures from the two disparate music systems, as opposed to a rejection of the new sounds,
thanks to music education practices and exposure that have made these sounds acceptable to
a wide segment of the Kenyan population. The outcome of the conflict resolution is a rich
tapestry of musical styles, represented in Figure 29.2 by the overlapping areas in the diagram.
280  Emily Achieng’ Akuno
Second, music education is part of the fabric called ‘culture’ because music is embedded
in what people do. It is designed to meet the needs of society, defined in terms of the na-
tional development plan, or individual peoples’ cultural aspirations. Music knowledge is
an element of culture that facilitates socialisation. Changes and dynamics in perception are
brought about by exposure to ‘other’ thinking and practices, thereby informing aspirations
and expectations. These draw attention to education’s content and output. New informa-
tion, when not in sync with culture (the status quo), demands a resolution because conflict
puts a strain on efficacy. Creativity in the substance, organisation and implementation of
music education is the way out of this ‘old-established’ versus ‘new-emerging’ conflict. The
experiences discussed below identify this motif in the journey of building higher music
education in Kenya from 1965 when the first learning programme was launched, leading to
the marked diversification of music education programme offerings in the country.

Historical Overview
Building on the notion that context determines content, it is important to expound, in a
chronological fashion, the socio-cultural space covered by the events at local and interna-
tional levels that have shaped the demand for and response to music education by Kenya’s
higher education institutions. Self-rule opened gates for imagination and hopes of reali-
sation of aspirations hitherto unimagined by many. Travel and exposure to global trends
resulted in learners’ demand for new skills to meet the ever-expanding music market. How
did the university respond?

Beginnings: The Politics of Culture

Pre-independence Kenya is a multi-national entity where each community, being a people
with their own tongue, philosophy, ethos, traditional governance structures and economy,
has its ways of conducting the business of establishing and maintaining its existence. It is pri-
marily a region of diverse peoples jostling for recognition and supremacy. The inhabitants of
the geographic space in question are people with diverse and fast-held notions of equity and
equality. Each group desires to occupy a particular space in the geographic region, a space
that will lend itself readily to supporting their economy. The general population exhibits rela-
tionships within and beyond the known community and family ties. These are expressed and
documented in artistic forms of expression and works4 that creatively depict and respond to
the challenges of everyday living and communal relationships. The role of, especially, music
education in this space is strategic as it enables individuals to fully participate in communal
events (Ekadu-Ereu, 2019) of socio-cultural significance. Music serves various roles in society,
some of which are to propagate notions of identity, communal good and communal pride,
philosophy, ethos of humanity and the continuity of life. It is also through music performance
that the creative germ is developed and nurtured in the community.5
In 1963, Kenya started self-rule after decades of colonialism. Independence meant a lot of
things to a lot of people, and the much-aspired-for self-rule may have been interpreted as
access to previously denied privileges. However, with this also came the need to have the
nation’s peoples’ voices heard, and so the role of culture as a tool for defining and voicing
the people’s identity would have been reiterated.6 One of the playing grounds for inequity
during the colonial rule was a segregated education system, where different racial groups
were assigned disparate curriculum content. Independence saw an attempt to harmonise
the European, Arabic, Indian and African curricula (Akuno, 2016, p. 12), and hence an
opportunity to achieve equality. It therefore meant that the post-education expectations of
the previously underserved Africans would be remarkably high.
 The Transformation of the Kenyan Higher Music Education Space  281
Kenyans’ notions and perspectives of self-determination led to mantras such as uhuru na
kazi,7 a call by the founding father of the nation to work in order to build the country’s
economy. The requirements for the national development led to the expansion of secondary
education. This would assist in improving the capacity of Kenyans at intellectual, psycho-
logical, social, economic and political levels. This explains the establishment of Kenyatta
College to meet the anticipated rise in the demand for teachers, a consequence of the en-
hanced high school enrolment, and the beginnings in 1965 of higher music education.
In 1965, the Department of Music was established at Kenyatta College to train teachers
for secondary schools and tutors for the teacher training colleges. Focusing on S18 (1965)
and Diploma in Education (early 1970s) qualifications, the initiative was to ‘raise the level
of musicianship’ (Kidula, 2014, p. 174). The focus on music literacy, appreciation, compo-
sition and performance catered for the knowledge areas that teachers were to teach upon
graduation. The study of African music, perhaps due to scarcity of documented informa-
tion (Kidula, 2014, pp. 175–176), leaned more towards performance, including indigenous
dances from Kenya. By the mid-1980s, the Bachelor of Education (Arts) consisted of 50%
education, with the teaching subjects sharing the rest of the programme.
The graduate of this programme was a secondary school music teacher or teachers train-
ing college music tutor. He/she had basic music performance skills, adequate music literacy
skills, knowledge and skills around the music of the classical traditions of Europe, and ba-
sic creative skills through composition techniques and performance. There were no skills
imparted for bridging the Euro-Africa divide in terms of concepts and processes of music.
This higher music education culture prevailed for at least 30 years.

The New Market

The massification of higher education from the late 1990s, on the one hand, saw new uni-
versities created thereby expanding access to university education. The 1985 launch of a
nation-wide learning system that made music examinable from primary school increased
the demand for higher music education where those enrolling came with significantly more
pre-enrolment exposure to the workings of formal music education.9
However, the entertainment sector in Kenya flourished, a trend that had begun after the
Second World War (Ondieki, 2010), flowering in the late 1960s and 1970s with Nairobi as
the music recording centre for the Eastern African region. Recognising this space, the new
crop of university music leaners presented a challenge to higher music education. Exposed
to global trends by their expatriate teachers (from the Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO)
and the Peace Corps movements), they possessed an expanded vocabulary of music knowl-
edge and skills. Studying music was a deliberate choice as they aimed to work in the music
industry. They transformed the notion of student from the passive recipient of information
to those who actively worked out learning in a constructivist manner (see Chapter 23 and
27). They clearly needed a different context for their studies. Yet, the Bachelor of Education
was the only higher music education programme available, and hence a conflict of provision
against expectation, a conflict between the programme on offer and the learners’ needs and
market skills requirements.
This conflict came to a head in 1998/1999 when a national school curriculum review
removed music from the secondary school curriculum, thereby threatening the university
student teachers with no direct employment. Despite a later review of this decision, the
damage had been done as the Teachers Service Commission (TSC) no longer guaranteed
employment for music education graduates, creating a crisis for which music departments
were forced to create solutions. This was a policy change for which the music department
was ill-prepared, but that was a catalyst in the changes that ensued.
282  Emily Achieng’ Akuno
Creating New Pathways for Higher Music Education
The challenge for the university was how to create new programmes to meet the new
demands. The question was to find out what would constitute a relevant higher mu-
sic education for Kenya and Kenyans. It was time to look within the country, at the
knowledge systems that contained the blueprint of what is Kenyan for information that
would help articulate the curriculum and institutional practice. Already, the teacher
education programme at Kenyatta University contained a fair amount of field visits,
where learners went into the communities to experience first-hand the music-making
activities. The department also had a detailed practical learning programme, where
instruments, folk songs and dances from various communities in Kenya were taught
and learnt. Many graduates were therefore familiar with the sounds and forms of the
indigenous music. However, the language used to verbalise its concepts and content
was borrowed from the Western music canon. The educators’ own experiences as stu-
dents were generally limiting, being mostly graduates of the education programme in
Kenya. Some had postgraduate training abroad, but these focused on the American/
European cultural.
The training of musicians in Kenya has been a journey of transformation. After 20 years
of higher music education focused on teacher education10 at Kenyatta University and the
University of Eastern Africa, Baraton’s Bachelor of Arts degree in Music (1996) and Kenyatta
University’s Bachelor of Arts in Music and Bachelor of Music programmes (1999) heralded
the transformation of the content of higher music education. This response to learners’ and
industry needs allowed the universities to focus on producing proficient ­music-makers who
could fit into any job market. Though many of the graduates still end up teaching, music
performance and business are among the industry sectors that benefit from higher music
education graduates.

The Transformation – Response to Conflict

Music education is a creative enterprise. Having spent 30 years implementing one curric-
ulum, educators found it difficult to expand curricular offerings because of limitations of
their own training. It was necessary for a creative process to fuel transformation in curric-
ulum conceptualisation, design and delivery. At Kenyatta University, the catalyst for this
change was the expansion of the university’s internal structures that allowed the establish-
ment of schools as units of academic administration. The Department of Music embarked
on a transformation journey to become the School of Music, whose purpose would be the
skilling of personnel for the music industry in all its sectors. This saw programmes devel-
oped at pre-degree levels (certificate and diploma programmes), Bachelor of Arts in Music
and Bachelor of Music degrees. Attracting new entrants to the education programmes from
the disciplined forces, the programmes also trained managers, performers and composers.
The author’s recollection from guiding this process at Kenyatta University is one of hours
of thinking, interrogation of the learning and expected work environment, rationalising,
introspection, statement and revision of plans, always asking questions and reviewing what
has been articulated – in short, a creative process. The research that went into articulating
the guiding principles involved seeking information from institutions that have similar
programmes, interrogation of the industry skills needs, engaging with learners’ voiced and
unvoiced aspirations, and educators’ own reflections of what they may have wanted to see
happening in the industry. These crystallised into principles, objectives and content of the
curricula that have been the backbone of much of Kenya’s higher music education pro-
grammes since the year 2000.
 The Transformation of the Kenyan Higher Music Education Space  283
In this regard, it has been possible to unearth the creative germ in learners. As ob-
served by the author in a musicianship course shared by Bachelor of Education and
Bachelor of Music learners, there seems to be greater flexibility and openness to explore
and experiment among the music students as opposed to the generally more guarded,
cautious responses from the student teachers. Whereas there may be many factors lead-
ing to this (and is open to empirical research), the author notes the relative freedom of
the one group. Their responses to creative work assignments demonstrate the diversities
that might also be a result of the disparate levels of exposure to music content. The
exposure provides a vocabulary of concepts and experiences upon which learners draw
to develop their creativity.
The creative capacity of educators has been stretched in this transformation journey.
They have had to glean from their own experiences as learners to create new principles
and objectives of teaching music, new content and new procedures upon which to anchor
higher music education. They cannot simply teach the way they were taught. The funda-
mental change was the reconfiguration of the purpose of higher music education, building
upon, and not discarding, the foundation laid in 1965. The transformation has taken the
form of amplification, augmentation and expansion that sees a creative combination of
content areas to facilitate different specialisations. In the recent past, the added value of the
digital platform has further stretched educators’ thinking, with many having to learn how
to handle technology to ensure teaching and learning take place.
In looking for further relevance as a rationale for the transformation, the author was
impressed to look inwards for resources. The need for music material whose idioms are
decidedly Kenyan has led curriculum developers and implementers to look at the indig-
enous expressions for content and procedures to make the Kenyan music education space
Kenyan. Several researchers have contributed significantly to this information gathering
(Andang’o, 2009, 2019; Apudo, 2018; Kidula, 2014; Monte and Mochere, 2019; Mushira,
2010; Ondieki, 2010; Owino, 2010; Owino and Akuno, 2019).

The Transformation
Transformation is a visible process of change on and in an object, and not its replacement.
In the higher music education agenda, transformation has entailed making fundamental
changes in the principles and nature of the curriculum. Guided by the changing demands
of society and the job market, and driven by the need to remain relevant, higher education
music departments have had to diversify their curricula to attract students while meeting
the needs of the industry.
One of the criticisms levelled at the higher education music curriculum (broadly) is its
cultural relevance. There has been extraordinarily little serious study of the music of Kenya
(Africa). Some attempts at resolving this by designing qualifications in African music have
had an appeal for students. Andang’o (2019, p. 214) urges teachers to ‘strive to be competent
in the performance of at least one indigenous Kenyan or African musical instrument’ as a
means of absorbing values that are useful for education.
A dominant challenge is the need to transform learners’ thinking and perception of the
value of Indigenous expressions. Learners see an international market for local music and
its derivatives. The author remembers being advised by her university piano coach that she
could never be a better Mozart than Mozart. Having finally understood the phrase, the
author deliberately made efforts to enhance the indigenous music knowledge and skills
component of higher music education courses whenever she has been involved in higher
music curriculum development. Publications from research on the local music practices and
materials by local researchers are on the increase.11
284  Emily Achieng’ Akuno
The practice of teaching music in Kenya has also come under criticism on its leaning to-
wards theory. The teacher education programme included a full semester of teaching prac-
tice, a practicum session that saw the student teacher immersed in a classroom over which
s/he took full charge under the supervision of a host subject teacher. The Bachelor of Arts
and Bachelor of Music programmes when started (at Kenyatta University) did not have this
practicum built into them. At the Technical University of Kenya, the institution’s tradition
of two industry-based learning (IBL) sessions ensures that each learner spends time work-
ing with music in a practice situation. These situations vary, including technology (studio),
management and research engagements. The advantage of this practice is the learners’ ex-
posure to roles where their knowledge and skills can fit. The learners have been able to
infuse professionalism and order in some enterprises by setting up systems and schedules to
ensure efficacy and quality in procedures and products.12 As a technical subject, music study
benefits from objectives and procedures that allow learners to engage with music practi-
cally and in diverse situations. The practicum (IBL) sessions as practised at TUK heighten
learners’ enthusiasm for industry engagement. This is an element of the transformation of
higher music education that contributes to relevance in terms of industry preparedness of
graduates of the programmes.
In providing the narrative above, this chapter has interrogated the initiatives taken to ex-
pand curricular offerings in music. Without a clear prototype to follow, the transformation
is premised on formulating a way out of the conflict between the commonly held practices
and the emerging needs that are a consequence of exposure to global trends, as well as the
reduction in traditional occupations. The move, away from a single qualification (teacher
education) and towards the inclusion of elements of diverse music traditions, demanded
creating course structures, content and delivery methods that were not yet in existence. In
developing multi-thematic courses, curriculum planners harnessed the expertise of person-
nel from diverse thematic specialisations in a collaborative effort. This ensures the recog-
nition of relatively different conceptual considerations, the finding of commonalities across
disciplines and the creation of coherence and cohesion in the created course.
Borrowing concepts from Massumi’s (2018) exposition on matters of value, it is noted
that the Kenyan higher music education curriculum transformation has ensued primarily
because of the changes in culture. The ‘life changes associated with the changes in labour
and management practices’ (p. 13) have occasioned cultural transformation expanding the
job market and creating space for curricular innovativeness. Starting with the reduced de-
mand for high school teachers of music, the more recent focus on the creative and cultural
industries has fuelled the need for creative considerations so that educators explore other
ways of tooling the vast and diversified economy. Massumi’s ‘creative duplicity’ aptly de-
scribes the processes where new possibilities have been created within and alongside the
strict requirements of teacher education. Indeed, the earlier programmes were generally
modelled on the teacher education course requirements. The transformation has catered for
the demands for practical music-making, musician professional development, entrepreneur-
ial and basic technological skills development.

And All That’s Between

Kenya’s higher music education is faced with the need to be innovative about teaching
music by looking at the needs of society and outlining how the music classroom can tool
interveners. The output of this education, including the ‘music teacher’, has to be equipped
to handle broad human issues as a member of society. The interconnection between music
and life demands an education that allows learners to make those connections, a reflec-
tion of indigenous music education’s purpose – connecting music and living. This chapter
 The Transformation of the Kenyan Higher Music Education Space  285
recommends the inclusion of the development of creative thinking as an aim of the mu-
sic education process, so that learners get to apply their imagination to generating ideas,
question and hypotheses (Kampylis & Berki, 2014, p. 6).13 The ability to incorporate new
ways of looking at things and to use existing patterns of thought, lateral and linear think-
ing respectively (Cambridge, n.d., p. 55), are crucial attributes of the higher music educa-
tion product. They enable learners to employ music-based skills and music knowledge in
non-music-making situations. By expanding the learning activities, learners are encour-
aged to utilise knowledge in ways that yield procedures and products that employ different
skills in the new context of Kenya’s cultural and creative economy, a space for negotiation
and collaboration among the various artistic expressions and socio-cultural activities. This
is a change from the previous closed application of knowledge and skills for teaching.
However, learners need relevant knowledge of contexts and concepts to creatively re-
spond to society’s needs. When content of education is relevant to the society in which
learners are expected to operate creatively, learners develop divergent thinking and can
yield original ideas (Runco & Acar, 2012, p. 1). It is in this way that graduates of the learn-
ing programmes get to occupy different roles in society, thanks to improved appreciation
of the place of music in society. This leads to the consideration of Krathwohl’s revised
Bloom’s Taxonomy (Krathwohl, 2002), where create comes to the top of the triangle as
the highest order thinking. The skills developed progress from ‘remember’, ‘understand’,
‘apply’, ‘analyse’ and ‘evaluate’, culminating in the ‘creative ability’. The development of all
this requires the use of different forms of knowledge. Krathwohl (2002) identifies factual,
conceptual, procedural and metacognitive knowledge. These are present in the context,
content and processes of music (Figure 24.3).
Creativity is reckoned as ‘…a driver for innovation and as a key factor for the develop-
ment of personal…and social competences’ (Villalba, 2008, p. 4). Since creativity alludes to
the production of something that is both novel and valuable (Al-Ababneh, 2020), creativity
is both new and appropriate (Kaufman, & Glăveanu, 2019). But which creativity are we
educating for?

Figure 24.3 Revised version of Blooms Taxonomy (Source: https://cft.vanderbilt.edu/guides-sub-pages/

blooms-taxonomy/ accessed on December 15th, 2021).
286  Emily Achieng’ Akuno
The creative way out of the culture-information conflict for Kenyan higher music edu-
cation has meant education planning and delivery that yield not just something/one new,
but also useful, where usefulness is measured by their ability to solve societal problems. The
question of relevance begs that the educated meets society’s needs in more than one area of
existence, and hence the transformation of expectations. With developed creative capacity,
the graduate of the learning programme is versatile and can apply skills in diverse spaces.
Training such creativities requires a multi-disciplinary foundation that paves the way for
mastery of selected knowledge area and associated skills. Creative ways of handling such
diverse content empower learners to appreciate the contexts of their practice. Collaborative
learning, which hinges on music as a participatory event, guides teaching and learning.
As higher music education in Kenya continues to transform from teacher education to the
training of musicians, it tackles all that is between and serves both ends to varying levels of
effectiveness.

Questions for Consideration

1 What might the role of creativity be in the articulation of higher music education
policy?
2 How might change in societal perceptions of music and musicians influence your work
and study of music?
3 In what way(s) have your personal view of music and music education transformed
over the past five years? To what do you attribute this transformation? What impact
does it have on your practice?

Notes
1 The Co-operative University of Kenya, Nairobi, Kenya. eakuno@cuk.ac.ke
2 See Zalo’s arrangement of Fadhili Williams’s Malaika (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=my-
b6TL1JOvY) and the traditional wedding song Na Maua in Shitubi (2012).
3 Find a recording here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWbJ4kk-NfQ
4 There are songs and fables that narrate the origins and history of various communities.
5 See Kiiru (2021) on the gonda and isikuti dances of Kenya, where tradition and novelty interact
seamlessly.
6 Today, culture is cited as the basis upon which the Kenyan constitution is anchored (Kenya Constitu-
tion 2010).
7 Freedom with work.
8 S denotes secondary, as opposed to primary (P) – the designated teaching station
9 Even before this period, the author remembers conflicts with a tertiary education curriculum whose
content included things she had covered at high school.
10 Music teacher education at certificate and diploma qualification levels was systematically transferred
to Teacher Training Colleges for the former, and Diploma Training College for the latter.
11 Kidula, Omolo-Ongati, Nyakiti, Mukasa, Bulinda and Monte are names that may be identified in the
literature.
12 A female student was thrilled to have done this, securing herself a paid position even as a student
completing her course of study.
13 ‘Creative thinking is defined as the thinking that enables students to apply their imagination to gen-
erating ideas, questions and hypotheses, experimenting with alternatives and to evaluating their own
and their peers’ ideas, final products and processes’ (Kampylis and Berki, 2014, p. 6).

References
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25 Creating Spaces for Songwriters,
Collaborators, and Musicians in
Higher Education
Jonathan Kladder and Radio Cremata

Introduction
A variety of scholars and researchers have outlined the need to diversify musical instruction
beyond teacher-directed- “ness,” find ways to enhance creativities and student choice, pro-
vide musically collaborative spaces where students learn and teach each other, and utilize
non-formal mediums for teaching and learning in higher education (Tobias, 2012; Wil-
liams & Kladder, 2019). Although this holds merit in music education, it holds broader and
more significant implications for music instruction in higher education. In recent years,
there have been slow adaptations, modifications, and changes to music offerings in higher
education across the United States (Powell, Krikun, & Pignato, 2015; Williams & Ran-
dles, 2017). However, much of music instruction remains limited to a particular stream
of students who have been trained in band, orchestra, and choir at the PK-12 level. These
students enter higher education through an exclusive and singular pathway (Koza, 2009).
This leaves many students in higher education with limited opportunities to learn, perform,
or engage with music at the university or college that they attend (Kladder, 2021; Koza,
2009; Palmer, 2011).
In many ways, these ideas are not new. For example, since the mid-1950s in the United
States, some have advanced ideas aimed at expanding music experiences in higher education
so that more students may participate (Birkett, 1992; Kratus, 2007; Miksza, 2013; Randles,
2022; Smith, 2014). In many ways, these advocates achieved many of the goals outlined in
more recent works related to this topic, where musicianship skills are diversified, aural/
oral music learning is encouraged and validated, popular music is legitimatized within the
institution, and alternative music-making beyond the Western-Art canon in formal school
teaching is supported (Powell, Krikun, & Pignato, 2015). The advancement of these ideas
encourages “new” or “innovative” thinking in music teaching and learning and provides
space and time for music experiences that are relevant for youth in contemporary culture
(Cavicchi, 2009). These authors have delivered an important message to the field of music
in higher education: current experiences continue to maintain and conserve music-making
experiences for the few who pass strict audition requirements and have been “trained” in
formal music prior to their admission into a college or university.
History, research, and present conditions of music learning in much of higher education
illuminate potential opportunities for future inclusive practices in the public and private
sector of formalized schools. Until changes occur, we will remain predominately siloed
in our thinking, doing, and making of music. We exclude students from the department,
school, or college of music in the United States – particularly those who may have interests
in learning about and making music but are not able and are often non-music majors. Con-
tinuing to ignore students, particularly those who are non-music majors with a wide palate
of music-making experiences, does a disservice to the institution and the music program at

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-29
 Creating Spaces  289
the institution. Opening doors to musicians outside the conservatory allows more partici-
pants to engage with the arts, develop new music skills and abilities, while engaging with
music in relevant and collaborative ways.
The authors realized that change was needed, and opportunity existed at their insti-
tution. Thus, they created a new course, one that focused on creative music-making and
popular music through a learner-centered pedagogical design so that students (specifically,
non-­music majors) could learn about, critically analyze, listen, and perform music of their
choosing. This chapter outlines some key components to the structure and design of a
course called Being Musical and Being Human: Musicianship through Music-making Processes,
while contextualizing the experiences of students in the course at a private liberal arts
college in Upstate New York. What we (the authors) found is shared in conclusion with
implications for music instructors in higher education to consider creating similar courses
for diverse and inclusive student populations.

Context

Institution
Ithaca College is a mid-sized liberal arts college located in upstate New York and averages
around 6,000 students depending on the academic year. It began as a conservatory of music
in downtown Ithaca in 1892 as reaction to a largely STEM-based community, as Cornell
University was the main derivative of education in the area at the time. In the early and
mid-1900s, the conservatory grew into a liberal arts college and now offers a wide range of
undergraduate and graduate degrees across campus. However, the School of Music remains
the flagship of the institution as students primarily enroll from the northeast region of the
United States. The School of Music continues to maintain its reputation for excellence in
music education and offers a wide range of undergraduate and graduate degrees in a vari-
ety of additional areas. As a conservatory School of Music, students focus their studies on
Western-Classical instruments and/or voice and perform in a wide variety of wind, string,
and voice ensembles.

Authors
There were two instructors involved in the development and teaching/facilitation of the
course discussed in this chapter. Both held a wide range of experiences performing and
playing music in popular music contexts, using ear-based approaches to music learning.
Each author learned through non-formal music-making and learning contexts, similar to
those outlined in the seminal work of Green (2002).

Come One, Come All: “Being Musical and Being Human:

Developing Your Inner Musicianship through Music-making”
Being Musical and Being Human was developed from the belief and philosophy that all stu-
dents, regardless of their musical background, are musical and inherently creative. We be-
lieve that students hold a host of musical experiences that are valuable and can contribute
to their well-being as a human. It was also developed to intentionally create a space and
place for non-music majors to learn, create, and perform music within the conservatory
school of music – a place they might otherwise never engage. We embraced the notion of
understanding creativity through the four Ps (Person, Process, Product, and Place) outlined
by Hickey and Webster (2001). Through this we were able to make the course inclusive
290  Jonathan Kladder and Radio Cremata
to students using a liberal arts requirement, known on campus as Ithaca College Seminar
(ICSM). All incoming first-year students were required to take one seminar course during
their tenure at Ithaca College. According to the institution and ICSM committee, ICSM
courses are intended to (1) bridge students’ transition from high school to higher education,
(2) offer a tailored experience for the first year, first semester, (3) encourage interactive
learning and participation, (4) cover diverse topics and distinguished faculty, and (5) stand
as the launchpad of a liberal education.
Although a wide range of courses are available each semester at Ithaca College, lim-
ited courses offered students opportunities to learn and perform popular music in the mo-
dus that became the central identifier of the course we taught, which was creativities in
­music-making. Through a long process of course proposal development, we submitted a
multi-page written proposal to the ICSM committee, and our course was approved. The
course being offered as a seminar course promoted the course automatically through the
college website, and quickly, our class was completely full.
The creative process for music-making varied from student to student, however we the
instructors recognized the value in a model. Thus, their framework for promoting creativies
aligned with the four-step process – outlined initially by Wallas (1926) and later by Webster
(1990) – of preparation, incubation, illumination, and verification-which. The overall goal of
the course was simple: through a process of creative music-making, we wanted students to de-
velop their musical ideas for writing songs in a collaborative and facilitated space (virtual and
in-person). A variety of musical ideas for melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic structures were
explored utilizing digital and acoustic instruments. Students were encouraged to put their
ideas into practice by writing their own songs and lyrical content. For some of these ideas,
we acted as instructors and facilitators, modeling and playing popular music for students on
our own instruments. For example, the first author often performed on his electric bass guitar
while the second author provided a harmonic line on the piano. We played musical examples
for students and modeled the creation of musical ideas for them in class. This was powerful
for two reasons. First, students could witness firsthand their instructors being creative and
thinking through the process in front of their students (Hickey & Webster, 2001) generating
ideas iteratively. We stopped throughout to provide explanation on the process highlighting
what constituted preparation, incubation, illumination, and verification. Second, students
could understand and observe the trial-by-error (mistake making) and exploration involved
in the songwriting process. From there, through a performative medium, students analyzed
their musical ideas/creations using a process of discriminatory listening with their peers and
instructors. Students shared their musical ideas with their instructors and with each other
and received verbal feedback. A purposeful intent in the creation of the experience was to
encourage all students, regardless of their musical backgrounds, a guided experience for lis-
tening and analyzing their own work and the work of their peers. We sought to provide an
open and inclusive environment, where students felt comfortable sharing their ideas with
one another. This was successful partly because we, the instructors, also created music along
with them. Another guiding attribute was that we wanted all students to develop and analyze
their ideas and arguments in ways that informed their understanding of the creative process in
­music-making. This allowed students to engage in a richer understanding of what and how
they learned as they articulated their ideas about their own creative processes.

Course Description
The course was designed to help students explore music-making as human beings in con-
temporary society with a focus on listening, analyzing, and creating popular music. In the
 Creating Spaces  291
course, students (1) explored, listened, and analyzed the melodic, harmonic, and rhyth-
mic structures of contemporary and popular music(s); (2) explored, discussed, and reflected
upon the similarities and differences across a diversity of musical genres; (3) created, collab-
orated, and shared original works of music. With a focus on making music, this course was
designed to help students discover and develop their inner musicianship, recognize their
individual creative identity, and musical potential.

Course SLOs
As the course was offered as a seminar, we needed to align musical experiences with broad
seminar designations across the college. For that reason, each SLO was already created, and
our goal was to align music learning opportunities within them. Below is a sample of SLOs
that guided the course:

1 Students will develop and analyze ideas and arguments. Through listening to and analyzing
contemporary/popular music, students will learn musical structures and be challenged
to support and synthesize their musical and non-musical ideas in ways that inform their
understanding of music.
2 Students will demonstrate consideration of context, audience comprehension, and purpose in writ-
ten and/or oral communication. Through a variety of written and multi-media reflections,
students will be required to analyze, discuss, and explore music in context of the genre
with peers and instructors(s) in ways the support their ability to articulate viewpoints
and thoughts.
3 Students will listen to and analyze music in a variety of genres and styles. Through listening
and reflection assignments, students will be required to analyze melodic, harmonic,
and rhythmic complexities, while recognizing patterns and repetitions.
4 Students will create original music. In groups and independent musicianship projects, stu-
dents will apply their listening and musical synthesis in the creation of their own, orig-
inally composed music.
5 Students will utilize emerging technologies for music performance and recording. With various
computers and technologies, students will explore innovative technologies for writing,
performing, and recording music.

The course was intended to focus on popular music. Therefore, course topics were designed
to integrate the following topics through this medium:

• Analyze and listen to simple/complex melodic structures

• Analyze and listen to harmonic, rhythmic, and bass line structures
• Song meanings and/or messages
• Independent musicianship and music-making
• Developing inner musical identity
• Group collaboration/communication in music-making spaces
• Exploration and mistake making in the process of making music
• Technology for creating, recording, and dissemination of original music
• Writing and harmonizing melodies
• Creating electronic music
• Digital music-making
• Song structure analysis
292  Jonathan Kladder and Radio Cremata
Course Structure
We met two times per week for about an hour and a half across one 14-week academic
semester. Class time was used for music listening and analysis activities, individual song
writing, and collaborative group song writing experiences. To start the semester, we began
each week with a focus on different musical components (melodic, harmonic, rhythmic,
style, etc.) from a popular music repertoire that students helped to create. Students were en-
couraged to bring their music to these classroom discussions. We also facilitated an online
platform for students to discuss and analyze music. For this, we used FlipGrid.com as the
mechanism for students to share their creative ideas, analysis, and discussion thoughts, and
receive feedback from their peers and facilitators asynchronously.
While students were required to complete listening and analysis assignments, they were
also required to come up with their own components of a song, which included two mel-
odies, harmonies, and bass lines. Figure 25.1 outlines the song assignment structure for the
course. For the first assignment, students were required to write two original melodies. The
second assignment required two different harmonies and rhythms, which supported their
final assignment to create a bass line for their song. Although some students had written
their own music previously, most had not. Therefore, it was important that we supported
and facilitated their creative experiences in ways that were structurally appropriate (in the
curriculum) and pedagogically appropriate (in the instruction). Students submitted elec-
tronic copies of their ideas. Some examples were video and audio recordings from their
phones, Garageband, FL Studio, or other digital audio workstation software.
What we quickly realized was that, although the organized and linear process looks
structured, is well-thought-out (as highlighted in the figure), and is ideal for curriculum
and course development, students did not usually follow this exact process in their creative
work. For example, some students developed a harmonic structure first and then created

Figure 25.1  An overview of the assignment structure.

 Creating Spaces  293

Figure 25.2  Actual processes by which some students followed to create their own original music.

their melody second. Other students worked best with beat-making software and created
a rhythm using FL Studio or Garageband. Once their beat was created, they experi-
mented with melodic pre-recorded loops or used non-electronic instruments to record
their melody over the beat using an iPhone. This is consistent with the complex aesthetic
decision-making process outlined by Hickey and Webster (2001) in which students are
challenged to imagine and manipulate sounds and musical ideas in both divergent and
convergent ways.
Regardless of the process they used, the individual song writing assignments illustrated in
Figure 25.1 emerged into an individualized experience and their process became reflective
of their creative inspiration and musical backgrounds (some had piano experience, while
others created music on computers). This mixture of approaches in the songwriting process
was different for each student and reliant upon flexibility and adaptability from us (the fa-
cilitators). Therefore, we maintained the assignment flow as illustrated in Figure 25.1, but
the songwriting process turned out to be more like Figure 25.2.
The above figure shows that for students to create music in the course, we (the instruc-
tors) also needed to personalize our support for students. Furthermore, we recognized that
not everyone used the same creative process, that different processes should be individually
affirmed, and that creating music was foundational to the development of their individual
musical identity.

Outcomes
There were a variety of outcomes that yielded interesting insights from the development
of the songwriting course. The perspectives of both students and instructors/facilitators
are provided in the following paragraphs in ways that provide a rich and meaningful rep-
resentation of the course. We recognize these offer a subjective and qualitative view into
the experiences but may provide useful considerations for those interested in creating or
delivering similar experiences at other institutions. To begin, we will share some of the
students’ perceptions of the course. These statements were a part of the course exit survey.
All students were provided the opportunity to provide feedback on their experiences at the
end of the semester as a course evaluation. As this chapter is focused on developing students’
inner musicianship and creative abilities, we aim to share comments that remain focused
on this specific area.
294  Jonathan Kladder and Radio Cremata
Student Voices
There were approximately 24 students in the course, and each brought a range of previ-
ous music experiences. As mentioned earlier, some had already written songs and consid-
ered themselves singers and/or songwriters. Others had limited or no music writing or
performance experience. This reveals the wide range of musical experiences in the class.
However, regardless of their musical background most seemed to gain valuable insights
from the course. For example, one student who had already written a significant amount
of music on their own wrote, “As a singer-songwriter, it was divine intervention that this
class ended up being very focused on music composition. I’ve learned time management for
personal creative work, discipline (in finishing projects), and collaborative opportunities.”
This comment reveals that even though there were students who had no musical training
or songwriting experience, those who already wrote and performed music in the course
gained knowledge and skills for furthering their craft as well. Although deadlines were
challenging for some students to follow, students learned about the importance of working
diligently on creative projects and followed the songwriting process so that a final product
could be submitted, reviewed, and shared with the class. Another student comment ex-
pressed this outcome, stating that, “I learned so much about songwriting that I didn’t think
about before or didn’t know.”
Another student suggested that they learned new skills related to songwriting, when they
explained that “I acquired skills with musical composition, collaborating, and performing.
I increased my knowledge of rhythm, harmony, melody, and creating music itself.” This
evoked that, even though some had limited formal music training, analyzing and discussing
elements of popular music assisted in the creation of their own music. As students listened
and analyzed popular music in the class, they were able to apply new knowledge to their
own creative work. As mentioned above, some students were challenged to express their
creative identity outside of their dorm or closeted space – they were often music makers
and creators but did not share their work with others or showcase their musical ideas in
collaborative settings. The following statement suggests that the course successfully created
an environment that encouraged a “coming out” of their musical “comfort zone,” learning
to “take creative initiative and push myself out of my comfort zone to create something that
is uniquely representative of myself.”
Collaboration came out as a central identifier for many in the course as well. A large pro-
ject that was embedded into the course required students to form bands, write an original
song, and then perform it for the class for feedback and further direction and development.
We provided two weeks (four rehearsals in class) for students to meet with each other, write
music, and rehearse. This was difficult for some, especially those who had different goals
and aspirations for the creative direction of their group. However, for many, the collabora-
tion enhanced their understanding and importance of working together with other musi-
cians in a similar space. For example, one student wrote, “I learned ways to write music and
collaborate with others, as well as how to analyze music properly and deeper ways to listen
to music” and another, “I got to meet likeminded students and enjoy the music school.” The
last part of this latter sentence speaks volumes to one success of the course: students who
might not otherwise have had any opportunity to engage with music faculty on campus
and were encouraged to collaborate with each other in ways that supported their musical
experiences and interests.
As a central identifier of the course was to encourage and support creative music-­making,
in both individual processes and group creative collaboration, students highlighted the
positive impact the course experiences had on their creative thinking, writing that “the
songwriting processes we did were most valuable,” “Getting the experience of writing
 Creating Spaces  295
my first song,” “Finding love to create music again,” and “I think the assignments in this
class gave me some motivation to explore and create music on my own. I have more of an
interest in creating my own music now,” and, finally, “Seeing things from different angles/
perspectives. Helped with creativity.”

Teacher, Facilitator, and Author Voices

There were a variety of areas related to experiences from our perspectives in the facilita-
tion and guidance of students learning in this modus. At the culmination of the course,
we shared our experiences with one another. We recognized that facilitated instruction
happens in a variety of ways along a continuum between formal and informal, intentional
and accidental, sequential and non-sequential, direct instructed and learner-led (Cremata,
2017). One similar theme we found was that facilitating each student’s creative processes
required a significant amount of energy, engagement, and perseverance. Facilitation also
required that we understood how much to help and when, or when to leave students alone
to sort their musical ideas out on their own. We worked diligently not to provide all the
musical ideas and answers for students but recognized that students with no formal music
training required more guidance and support. There were a few additional themes that
emerged from our experiences.
First, we found that social collaboration was difficult for some students. Some students
had not previously experienced music-making in this modus, particularly where they had
so much autonomy and control over the process. As learner-centered approaches to music
remain on the fringes of the profession, it is plausible that most students in this course were
used to being told “what to do” or “how to play” music from former music experiences.
The autonomy we provided in the class required students to make musical decisions, decide
who would play what and when, and required that they experiment with musical ideas.
Some had more leadership and outspoken approaches to creating music than others, which
some did not always agree. This required a sort of “reconciliation” from us, the facilitators.
Second, there were a variety of musicians in the class – particularly, those who had some
formal music learning experiences and others who had limited or no formal music experi-
ences. We found that support for one-on-one experiences with students was imperative for
those who had limited formal music training. Much of the work with these students was
through facilitation and individual meetings. We met with students one-on-one to check
in on their progress and offer ideas for creating music with technology or developing their
musical ideas further. Requiring them to sign up for office hours made a positive difference.
As one could imagine, creating music with no theoretical knowledge of structure, tonality,
or rhythm can be overwhelming when asked to write music and submit it to a group of
musicians and professors. Therefore, integrating music technology (iPads) and requiring
individual meetings became the determining factor in some of their successes. Those who
did not show up for office hours and had limited experience with music creating were
challenged the most. We found that students who had limited or no music-making expe-
rience in a formal environment were timid and often soft spoken or quiet. This required a
continued and persistent “building into” as students needed reassurance that they could be
musical, write their own music, and feel affirmed in their creative efforts.
Third, institutionalize-“ing” or schoolification (Dyndahl, Karlsen, Nielsen, & Skårberg,
2017), creative music-making can be a risky endeavor. Taking anything that is often deter-
mined or defined as non-formal learning and placing it into a school learning environment
can remove authenticity and meaning. Interestingly this was not the case for this course.
We found that it was an effective means for students to create original music. We ration-
alize that this could be for a variety of reasons because (1) we provided flexibility in what
296  Jonathan Kladder and Radio Cremata
and how they created their music. For example, we did not stipulate what genre, style, or
instrument they could use to write their music; (2) we connected their music with class
learning. For example, students were able to listen to and analyze music that was mean-
ingful to them; (3) the analysis of popular music supported new musical knowledge using a
relatable/relevant pathway; and (4) diverse musicianship expanded musical understandings
for most of the students involved. Students brought a wide and diverse mixture of musical
experiences to the class. Some with no music training and a few with formal music expe-
rience in band, orchestra, and choir. Each student generally leaned on their own previous
music-making experiences to shape the direction of their creative projects. However, what
was a key observation in this experience was that students with no formal music training
were able to learn from their peers who had some formal music training, using informal
approaches.
Finally, as facilitators, we both relied on our previous musical experiences in popular mu-
sic in supporting students’ creative projects and musical ideas. We found it most challenging
to not “take over” their creative process or provide too many ideas when working in their
groups. However, having personally created a significant portion of music by ear prior to
facilitating the course, we found that each of our musical backgrounds supported each other
and students in the course in unique ways. This created a unique platform for students to
combine a diversity of musical instruments with others in unique ways. For example, one
band included a classical violinist, a beat maker and producer, a pop/rock pianist, and a bass
guitar played on an iPad. Another group included more standard rock band instruments,
with an electric guitar, bassist, piano, and vocals. Interestingly, in both examples, the com-
bination of digital and acoustic instruments was feasible and creative. In fact, the inclusion
of digital instruments offered new opportunities for students to engage in and personalize
their creative process.

Conclusion
Ideas, solutions, and innovative approaches are needed toward achieving diversity and in-
clusivity in music classrooms, whereby music teachers are tasked with creating new music
opportunities for students who might otherwise not participate in music learning (Lebler,
2008). The task is not always straightforward or easy, but in the case of the experience in this
chapter, it required perseverance, willingness, and determination to create a space and place
for non-music majors to learn, create, and even perform original music. Our non-formal
music training backgrounds certainly assisted in the music-making and creative processes of
students in the course. We also co-taught the course, which allowed for increased support
and idea development from multiple perspectives. Since we (the authors) have written and
composed our own original music and have a vast range of musical experiences in popular
music (and more), we were able to provide supportive and constructive musical feedback to
guide students’ creative work.
Although many authors and scholars have offered conceptual frameworks in guiding the
construction and implementation of new music courses, others have explored approaches
to learning music through vernacular, informal, project-based, and learner-centered class-
rooms (Green, 2002; Regelski & Gates, 2009; Smith, 2016). Building new courses requires
imaginative thinking, perseverance, and stakeholders. However, the biggest impact comes
from looking for opportunities on the college and university campuses to implement new
ideas. Sometimes this requires extra research and conversations with stakeholders outside of
music. Although the course presented in this chapter provides suggestions in providing rel-
evant learning spaces for students, whether non-traditional or traditional, the fact remains
 Creating Spaces  297
the same, most of the music taught in higher education remains siloed and disconnected
from youth culture. We suggest that faculty continue to search for and invest in new av-
enues that influence pedagogies associated with musical creativities at their institutions in
ways that create space and place for students, including non-music majors, to experience the
creative process of making in ways that develop their inner musicianship.

Questions for Consideration

1 What would it take to open up curricular opportunities for students in your setting?
2 What important questions are there still to be asked about the creativities involved with
creating original songs?
3 In which ways do the study of popular musics and the study of musical creativities
overlap?
4 What does giving student’s choice in the creative process enable in their music-making?
5 How are your experiences the same/different from those described in this chapter?

References
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Cavicchi, D. (2009). My music, their music, and the irrelevance of music education. In Music education for
changing times (pp. 97–107). Dordrecht: Springer.
Cremata, R. (2017). Facilitation in popular music education. Journal of Popular Music Education, 1(1),
63–82.
Dyndahl, P., Karlsen, S., Nielsen, S. G., & Skårberg, O. (2017). The academisation of popular music in
higher music education: The case of Norway. Music Education Research, 19(4), 438–454.
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Hickey, M., & Webster, P. (2001). Creative thinking in music. Music Educators Journal, 88(1), 19–23.
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26 Activist Pluralism as Intercultural
Creativity in Conservatory
Education
James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford

Setting the Scene

In the literature, John Coltrane’s involvement in the Civil Rights Movement has often been
portrayed as non-activist, perhaps because of his quiet dedication to spirituality and his art
(Leonard, 2019), or because he stated that he did not like the riots (Anderson, 2017). As an
example, we are reminded that Coltrane played fund-raising gigs for the movement, but he
did not personally march (Adejumobi, 2007; Curiel, 2007).
Comparing one of Coltrane’s best-known Civil Rights pieces, Alabama, with Nina Si-
mone’s response to the same event (the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Bir-
mingham, Alabama that killed four young girls), Simone’s Mississippi Goddam seems, on the
surface at least, the more bold statement against the atrocity and in support of the Move-
ment (Claridad, 2019). However, other scholars have suggested that Coltrane’s quiet activ-
ism was the most powerful, playing the changes in his spiritual-artisan manner: Long (2020)
showing that in Alabama he began to develop his later “wordless recitation” by imitating
the pitch and rhythm of Martin Luther King’s eulogy, right down to the vocal tessitura
and favoured key (C minor) of King’s many recorded speeches; Smith (2003) and Nineham
(2020) pointing to Coltrane’s later development of free jazz as a parallel to the Civil Rights
and Anti-War Movements.
There are many ways of being creative activists leading change in and through music.

Introduction
This chapter is a co-authored investigation of an “activist pluralist” curricular and e­ xtra-
curricular project at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music (SCM). The project in question,
a collaborative Hip-Hop residency and production of a creative work with elements of
slam poetry, rap, electronic beats, orchestral and choral music, and cinematography, with
social justice themes, was called Odysseus: Live (see Music excerpt 1) and premiered at SCM
in June 2016. We describe the intentions of the project as “activist pluralism” because it
was designed to challenge traditional conservatory students (trained in Western Art Music
(WAM)) to develop embodied understanding of Hip-Hop as a sophisticated musical cul-
ture. We explore the musical activities of the project as intercultural creativities where contrary
to the established hierarchies of the conservatory (Perkins, 2013a, 2013b), relationships are
“non-hierarchical and intersubjective”, “not grounded in the politics of difference, or the
commodification of culture. Interculturality advocates and enables the feeling of ‘respect,’
‘belonging,’ or ‘inclusion’” (Burnard, 2015, p. 359).
Music excerpt 1. http://bit.ly/ActiPlu1 (43 seconds) From Trojan Horse rap, Melbourne
(chamber ensemble) performance, 2018.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-30
300  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford
We take a clearly explicated approach to collaborative autoethnography by closely following
the methodology of Chang, Ngunjiri, and Hernandez (2016) to best interrogate and triangulate
our experiences as a teacher and student participating in the project. Collaborative autoethnog-
raphy (CAE) offers the opportunity to further triangulate established autoethnographic meth-
ods by balancing “the individual narrative with the greater collective experiences” (Blalock &
Akehi, 2018, p. 94). Because the authors are also the creators of the data, we begin by presenting
our personal histories and how they came together as teacher and student at the conservatory, be-
fore setting out our very deliberate methods including how we have attempted to avoid bias. We
define activist pluralism within the philosophical and pedagogical literature, as well as discussing
how pluralism and intercultural creativities have been an important part of tradition at SCM for
several decades. Finally, we present findings from our analysis of the data and propose improve-
ments to this model of activist pluralism as a viable pedagogy for a more diverse, inclusive, and
creative model of music education in the 21st century that creates transformative “in-between”
spaces (Burnard, 2012, 2015) that students may (or may not) choose to participate in.

Personal Introductions for This CAE Study

Caitlin
As a child who knew I wanted to play the violin since three years old, it is no surprise that
I followed the traditional classical music path. I had private lessons from age six and played
in youth orchestras from age eight. In addition, at my local public high school in Sydney, I
was part of the super-cool group that spent every lunchtime in the music rooms, working
out new arrangements of pop and folk songs for our “band”. In the classroom we studied
Kelly Clarkson alongside Steve Reich, the Ring Cycle, Australian Aboriginal Rock, Indian
Carnatic music, and Bach. We got to perform, improvise, and compose in all these styles.
My mum was from an upper-middle class family in Melbourne, raised strictly Mormon, and
my dad was from a low socio-economic area in Western Sydney. My father worked his way into
the middle class, and he met my mum. My family left the Mormon church when I was eight
years old. Saturdays meant travelling into the city for Youth Orchestra rehearsals and perfor-
mances, and Sundays meant travelling out West to help my dad’s side of the family. After four
years completing the Music Education degree at the Sydney “Con”, I ventured out into the real
world, gaining experience in as many different high schools as I could. I found myself at home at
a school in Sydney’s West, teaching students with complex trauma and students with disabilities.
At the same time, I had started a Research Masters with a crazy, odd-sock wearing lecturer.

James
I grew up in the UK, 10 minutes from the beautiful Lake District, and 20 minutes north
of industrial Barrow-in-Furness. I went to a public elementary school with 17 children in
it, and then to a public comprehensive secondary school with 200 students. I began private
piano lessons aged seven, and trombone aged 12. I played trombone for local commu-
nity ensembles, for semi-professional orchestras, and eventually for the auditioned Country
Youth Orchestra. I also started composing in primary school, had my first large-scale work
performed at 14, and had my first three orchestral works between the ages of 16 and 21. At
the same time I taught myself to jam on lead sheets, to programme computers, and recorded
my first EP with my rock band “Last Black Fury” at the age of 19. I loved Prokofiev and
Prince, John Adams and Jethro Tull.
My parents were school teachers. My mother was from an upper-middle class family of
academics and professionals, with a strong streak of social justice served through programmes
 Activist Pluralism  301
in the church or UNICEF. My father was from a working-class family, the first to get into
Grammar School, and then go to university. His religion was literature and music, although
he enjoyed The Beatles as much as Beethoven, and Sonny Rollins as much as gloomy Rach-
maninov. It should be no surprise, then, that I have become an increasingly avowed pluralist
(Humberstone, 2015b, 2015a, 2017) since joining the faculty at the Sydney Conservatorium of
Music (SCM) in early 2013, under the mentorship of Associate Professor Michael Webb.

Defining Activist Pluralism for Intercultural Creativities

Pluralism in Music Education at SCM

In the few publications exploring pluralism in music education, parallels are not necessarily
drawn with Isaiah Berlin’s value pluralism, its rejection of the Platonic ideal, nor its roots
in Herzen’s work (Lyons, 2019). Nonetheless, Berlin’s articulation of pluralism to refer to
more than one truth, more than one answer, more than one “best way” to do a thing of-
fers insight for pluralism (and intercultural creativities) in music education: to use Berlin’s
own words, “if you then say ‘which outlook is superior?’, I find it difficult to say that entire
­outlooks – whole cultures – can be strung along a line in which you say ‘this culture is
better than that one’” (Philosophy Overdose, 7:05). The axiomatic distinctions so often en-
gendered in the conservatory model (Bull, 2019; Bull & Scharff, 2017; Hein, 2013; Perkins,
2013a) can be dismissed from the pluralist position.
Berlin’s value pluralism also offers a contribution to this book’s thread of empathy through
musical creativity. Pluralism is not cultural relativism (Gray, 2020; Kateb, 1999), and its
position asserts that ideas of ultimate human harmony are fantasy, yet it cultivates empa-
thetic spaces by accepting that “Claims can be balanced, compromises can be reached: […]
so much for understanding a given human situation” (Berlin & Jahanbegloo, 1991, p. 70).
Lyons (2020) has documented Berlin’s own humanist understanding of empathy through
Giambattista Vico. Turning back to musical creativity, such empathetic spaces nurture in-
tercultural creativities, as Burnard asserts: “Empathy is a process in which music can be
viewed as a way to promote diverse creativities that enhance intercultural understanding,
mutual tolerance, self-identity, and peace-building” (Burnard, 2015, p. 360).
The SCM vision of pluralism was clearly defined for James as he began work with Webb,
his most recent book chapter (Webb & Seddon, 2012) drawing parallels between contem-
porary scholarship on informal learning and folk traditions. Webb had also acted upon his
articulation of pluralism in earlier educational projects at SCM, in which he and a colleague
brought musicians typically excluded in the conservatory model (folk music, jazz) to work
with undergraduates, with the goal of “diversifying and expanding musical understanding
and musicianship” (Webb & Renwick, 2008, p. 2), and combatting student “stress and
insecurity, feelings of inadequacy as a musician, loss of enjoyment in music-making, and
general institutional marginalisation” (Renwick & Webb, 2008, p. 92) amongst the “non-
elite” of the institution.
Webb’s active work and connected research may be seen as part of a broader tradition
of social justice, cultural diversity, and intercultural creativity modelled in the degree pro-
gramme and articulated in its research, such as Professor Kathryn Marsh’s exploration and
legitimisation of children’s musical cultures and non-formal learnings (Marsh, 2008), the
extension of this work into the lives of child refugees (Marsh, 2012, 2017; Marsh & Dieck-
mann, 2017), as well as work by both Marsh and Ass. Prof. Peter Dunbar-Hall to infuse
multiculturalism and culturally diverse music education experiences into the degree since
the 1990s (Dunbar-Hall, 2004, 2005; Marsh, 2005). Today, Webb’s research continues
to challenge assumptions about repertoire and pedagogy in mainstream Australian music
302  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford
education (Webb & Bracknell, 2021). Caitlin’s experience as a student of Webb’s was sim-
ilar. From the outset of the degree, assessment tasks in Webb’s courses required students
to demonstrate understanding of pluralist approaches. Following Webb’s influence, James
also published on this subject, establishing his own pluralist position (Humberstone, 2015a,
2017). James saw pluralism as an empathetic way of dealing with “the WAM cycle” in
the conservatory: the training by one generation of WAM-trained music educators of the
next, similarly trained generation (Bull, 2019; Cain, 2015; Dwyer, 2016; Green, 2008;
Hargreaves et al., 2007; Humberstone et al., 2020; Lamont & Maton, 2010; Philpott, 2010).

Activism in Music Education

Hess (2018b, 2018a, 2019a, 2019b, 2020) has undertaken extensive work to define the iden-
tities and work of 20 activist-musicians and to “consider what it might mean to actualize
critical pedagogy as a practical activist music education” (2019a, p. 12). While our Hip-Hop
project began before Hess’s research was published, many of the same basic tenets arise. As
is outlined below, the musicians involved in the study had a record of creating art that “ad-
dressed diverse topics that included personal experiences, identity politics, discussions of so-
cial issues, and beyond” (Hess, 2020, p. 445). Similarly, this project had political aspirations
“to name the world and engage in a practice of noticing ideologies, discourses, and power
structures (a re-actualization of conscientization)” (Hess, 2019a, p. 51, drawing on Freire,
1970), while struggling to operate within the constraints of the conservatory institution,
which “perpetuate(s) social reproduction” while functioning “to conserve the status quo
[…] through reproducing classed and raced systems” (Hess, 2018b, p. 33).
It may be argued that being actively pluralist is a weaker approach than Hess’s examples
which more directly engage “in the critique, analysis, and disruption of oppression” (Hess,
2019a, p. 6), yet pluralism asks students to see WAM as simply “one music of many” (Hess,
2018a, p. 17), and we feel strong alignment with Hess’s assertion, that by bringing Hip-
Hop to the conservatory, by collaborating with musicians that Webb and Renwick (2008)
asserted would not ordinarily teach in such an institution, “such an education aims to equip
youth across three main areas: (a) fostering connection with Others; (b) honoring and
sharing lived experience; and (c) developing the ability to think critically about the world”
(Hess, 2019a, p. 6). These three points further reinforce the close relationship of activist
pluralism as we have defined it to Burnard’s description of intercultural creativity and empa-
thetic creativities, promoting “co-participation, reciprocity, openness, mutuality, intercultural
understanding, and ‘affective alignment’” (Burnard, 2015, p. 360).

Hip-Hop in Music Education: Emerging Creativities

As one of the most popular genres globally, particularly among young people (Hooton,
2015; IFPI, 2019, 2021; Leight, 2019), Hip-Hop is increasingly being explored in the music
secondary school classroom as a way to engage and connect with students (Allsup, 2016;
Hone, 2017; Kruse, 2016b, 2016a, 2018, 2020; Stuart, 2018; Tobias, 2015), although there is
a lack of research into teacher training in Hip-Hop, possibly due to a lack of practice (Hone,
2017; Kruse, 2020). In the tertiary sector, academics report success teaching Hip-Hop
courses in music degrees (Banks, 2015; Chodos, 2019; Hein, 2021), but also recognise the
dangers of “academicising” a rich culture (Gosa & Fields, 2012; Harmanci, 2007; Petchauer,
2009; Söderman, 2013; Söderman & Sernhede, 2016). While the field is under-researched,
both philosophical and practical considerations emerge through the growing literature.
Hip-Hop culture was born out of a resistance to the mainstream, giving voice to mi-
norities and the marginalised (Chang, 2011; Rose, 1994, 2008; Schloss, 2009). It makes
 Activist Pluralism  303
sense, then, that the learning of Hip-Hop music and involvement in the culture involve
informal processes and strong principles that may seem to clash with the culture of formal
educational institutions (Kallio, 2015). When investigating the process by which Hip-Hop
musicians learn, Kruse (2018) found several “elements of self-teaching; learning through
listening, creating, competing, and collaborating; and relating the individual to the broader
hip-hop culture” (p. 317). We consider Hip-Hop the ideal cultural context for this activist
intercultural work, and discuss this further below.
The scene in Australia relates strongly to its international cousin. Hip-Hop artists “or-
ganise themselves within local music institutions such as workshops, independent stores,
record labels and live music venues in order to create a scene that resists mainstream values”
(Stuart, 2018, p. 284). When exploring how this translates into practice in Sydney class-
rooms, Hone (2017) discovered several limitations: These included teachers’ prejudices and
misunderstanding of musical complexity in rap; their lack of confidence in bringing their
musical skills to Hip-Hop; and students’ distrust of school as a site for the culture. As Kal-
lio writes, “even when popular repertoire is the focus of school music, there is a persistent
understanding that school music is not, or is no longer, students’ music, but belongs to an
older, more conservative authority” (2015, p. 2138). At the time of writing, no literature
has been published that describes the teaching of Hip-Hop in Australia’s conservatories.

The Design of the Hip-Hop Project

The Conservatorium Hip-Hop project was designed as a teaching and learning project ex-
clusively, not as a research project. James engaged Australian slam poet and MC, Luka Les-
son, and his US producer Jordan Thomas Mitchell as artists-in-residence. The pair lectured
within the curriculum so every student in the BMus (Music Education) had at least one
class with them, as well as giving guest lectures in other music degrees. They also gave one
public lecture in the “About Music Education Series” (Sydney Conservatorium of Music,
2016), published on SCM’s YouTube channel.
Music excerpt 2. http://bit.ly/ActiPlu2 (68 seconds) From Athena rap, and The Storm Hits,
Sydney performance and student studio sessions, 2016.
In addition to the curricular work, the pair ran a collaborative artistic project with James,
producing a new creative work (Odysseus: Live), with Hip-Hop beats (by Mitchell), rap and
performance poetry (Luka Lesson), orchestral and choral orchestrations of the poetry (by
James, in creative collaboration with students), studio recording time to bring together the
electronics and acoustic music, and with cinematography by Claudia Sangiorgi Dalimore:
see Music excerpt 2. The project was intentionally pluralist in its intercultural approach to
musical styles, and the way in which students could creatively participate: as players, or-
chestrators, recording engineers, staging, or front of house. There were two outputs from
the project: a live show that premiered at the end of semester with large professional team,
shown in Figure 26.1, and recordings as a mock-up for a future album.
Thanks to generous funding from the Australia Council for the Arts, further develop-
ment was undertaken following the Conservatorium residency, the result of which was a
smaller touring version which was produced in Melbourne as an industry preview with 17
conservatory students in 2018. Music excerpts 1 and 3 were filmed at this performance.
Music excerpt 3. http://bit.ly/ActiPlu3 (1 minute) From Inner Landscapes, Melbourne
(chamber ensemble) performance, 2018.
Odysseus: Live (now simply known as Odysseus (Haralampou, 2021)) is a re-telling of
Homer’s Odyssey, itself with social justice dimensions. Luka Lesson (a Greek-Australian)
drew parallels with the ancient Greek epic story of heroism and the contemporary plight of
refugees in the Mediterranean, saying on the SBS World News
304  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford

Figure 26.1  T
 he cast and crew at the premiere of Odysseus: Live at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music
in June 2016.  Photograph by Sheshanka Samarajiwa.

the map of where Odysseus left Troy […] transpose that onto a modern day map and
it’s almost the exact same journey that refugees are taking today. Odysseus is regarded
as this incredible man who did this incredible journey, and he made it, and he’s a hero,
and yet refugees are being treated like dogs.
(Tsigas, 2016, 1:20)

We consider the design of the project as deliberate intercultural creativity (Burnard, 2012),
operating “as a discourse between continuity and change” (p. 137). The project very delib-
erately juxtaposed the hegemonic status and power of the conservatory and its approbated
repertoires with the resistance of Hip-Hop culture and the outsider-artists whose learning
was lived and authentically vindicated within the culture itself. Burnard (2012) identifies
the defining practice of intercultural creativity as this exact kind of juxtaposition, in this
case, where socially reconstructed selections of tradition are represented as the concert hall,
the orchestra, the choir, and the lecture theatre, and where change is realised in the nexus
of those traditions conversing and exchanging, culturally, with the visitors. As will be
shown, in the data, Caitlin enthused about how much she learned from the resulting fusion.
In addition, the multiple roles available to students (described above) meant that they could
participate on their own creative terms.
We are conscious that the limitations of space have not allowed a discussion of race or
cultural appropriation in this chapter, apart from acknowledging Hip-Hop’s roots in the
above passages, and its suitability for this project. An analysis of the teaching and devel-
opment of this work by a Greek-Australian, English-Australian, Italian-Australian, and
American with predominantly white and Asian-heritage students in a colonial building
and institution is an important one to have: the project was not without minority voices. As
Assyrian-Australian participant Lolita Emmanuel commented in the television interview,
“displacement as a theme in Odysseus is really important to me, to see it interpreted” (Tsi-
gas, 2016, 2:28).
 Activist Pluralism  305
The Authors’ Roles in the Project
As discussed, James’s role was as the organiser of the residency, but he was also the writer
of curriculum for 120 pre-service music teachers, the composer for the project, and the
conductor of the first performances. Caitlin also points out that often in the studio James
was the translator between the classical musicians and the producer. James thought his role
was to work hard to create a transformative learning experience for his students (and for
himself, as it turned out), as an artist as well as a teacher – as an activist pluralist.
Caitlin’s role in the project was as a fresh and enthusiastic first-year music education
student who signed up for every recording session, and every rehearsal – more than most
other students involved. Throughout the whole experience, she ended up being performer,
a recording/session musician, a student, and a collaborator. In 2018 she also travelled to
Melbourne and performed in the chamber version of Odysseus. At the time of writing,
Caitlin is a qualified music teacher teaching special education in a public secondary school,
a candidate in the research MMus degree, and an adjunct lecturer at SCM. The resulting
power dimension between the authors is discussed in the next section.

Methodology: Collaborative Autoethnography

We take for our core research methodology in this research project Collaborative AutoEth-
nography (CAE). We describe our approach as “clearly explicated”, not to imply that it is
by any means perfect, but because this is our first collaborative autoethnographic study, we
have followed very closely the procedures set out in the methodological literature, rather
than charting our own course.
Chang, Ngunjiri, and Hernandez (2016) describe CAE as

a qualitative research method in which researchers work in community to collect their

autobiographical materials and to analyze and interpret their data collectively to gain a
meaningful understanding of sociocultural phenomena reflected in their autobiograph-
ical data.
(2016, pp. 24–25)

For Blalock and Akehi (2017), CAE “may begin as an intentional discussion focused on
similar experiences” – in this case, the experience of a music education project from two
sides, the teacher and the student. There is an established tradition in CAE of professors
working with graduate students, and Chang, Ngunjiri, and Hernadez suggest that “Even
in cases of collaborative research teams formed with pre-existing power differentials, it is
noticeable that power among researchers is diffused through collaboration” (2016, p. 26).
Not only did we bear this power differential in mind from the start, but we included dis-
cussions about it as part of our analysed data, in addition to memos and messages in our
collaboration site.
Because this methodology was new to us, we reviewed the literature. We developed a
series of steps and checkpoints to make sure that we were not just representing our personal
biases as enthusiastic participants in the project – instead, we sought to interrogate one
another’s experiences, intentions, and interpretations. We began by identifying existing
autobiographical material (documentation of the project from 2016, including personal
messages, photographs, and recordings), and then by creating a layer of additional data in
the form of transcribed dialogue between the authors, reflections on the autobiographical
materials, and iterative memo-ing and reflections. We published a diagram outlining this
process publicly (Humberstone & Sandiford, 2021).
306  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford
Data analysis began with a collaborative “macro-review” to gain “an uninterrupted and
undisturbed review of your entire data set to gain a holistic sense of what […] data are
about” (Chang et al., 2016, p. 102). The arising (seven) initial themes became a starting
point for a separated coding phase, where we also allowed one another free “micro-coding”
(p. 104) to develop ideas about the data at a sentence-by-sentence or asset-by-asset level, as
a way of limiting influence on one another and democratising code-naming. These codes
were then merged for the final coding stages: we each wrote a memo on what similarities
and differences we saw in our approaches to coding, and then through discussion we agreed
on themes. In many ways, our methodology was another example of the collaborative crea-
tivities (Burnard, 2012) that were found throughout the project, between students, between
the artists-in-residence, as part of the created work, and now between the researchers.

Findings

Broad Themes
Three broad themes emerged, with Activism as a fourth that was overarching. While there
was some overlapping, as might be expected with a wide range of qualitative data, the broad
themes also stood up to further analysis and discussion. They were Culture, encompass-
ing everything from the student and institutional culture, to Hip-Hop culture; Pluralism,
within the degree, in practice, and its influence on pre-service music educators; and The
Project Itself.

The Project Itself

The most complex web of ideas and experiences to analyse was the structure and effect of
the project itself. It was under this broad umbrella that we were able to differentiate the
most between James’s intentions for the project, and the way in which they were received
by the student body, as well as the practical and pedagogical strengths and obstacles.
The project came to be seen as an exemplar of other projects undertaken by the music
education division over the past decade, with authenticity and scale being the strengths of the
design. While other projects did culminate in concerts or other public events, they did not
have the dual curricular and extra-curricular elements that Odysseus did, nor the budgetary
backing. The level of professional production and recording compared to other projects was
notable. Caitlin told James, “I think the quality of the end product probably does matter
[…] because when you feel you’re part of something really awesome, that lifts it up”.
The quality of the people brought in and the project as a whole related to threads that
we gathered as teacher-student perspectives. At first, James was quite surprised that Caitlin had
felt some distance from the emcee and his producer, and wondered whether that was the
“gangster” persona that a rapper might adopt, to be mysterious or aloof. While Caitlin
didn’t disagree, she made that point that as someone in her first semester of the degree,
James was also a new person, and the one student had “the most involvement” with, acting
as a translator between the electronic music producer and the classically trained students.
Caitlin went on: “Jordan and Luka were on the other side of the glass, so there wasn’t that
same connection, but I still had lots of respect for him anyway”, a professional respect that
wasn’t fully cemented until for another two years, because “it was in Melbourne, where I
got to see him properly perform. And after that, I was like woah, he’s amazing”. Luka also
brought his posse on stage in the 2016 performances, as shown in Music excerpt 4.
Music excerpt 4. http://bit.ly/ActiPlu4 (37 seconds) From Athena rap, freestyle solos, live
Sydney performance, 2016.
 Activist Pluralism  307
Caitlin also noted that the long-term design of the project resulted in much more student
involvement, since students could participate in a number of ways, at different times over
about two months, including contributing creatively. In discussion, James asked “so it’s not
just having a concert and a public thing? It’s actually having some kind of…”, and Caitlin
completed his thought: “agency, I guess”. The importance of students working as “active
contributors” (Caitlin) in a creative manner overlapped with the constructivist pedagogical
considerations present in the project and the undergraduate degree more broadly.
To Caitlin, it was the “fusion” of musical cultures (or intercultural creativities, as we are
reflecting on them) that allowed this student agency – the integration of the orchestra and
choir with the Hip-Hop elements allowed students to contribute their own expertise, mak-
ing them feel comfortable enough to learn and engage in the unfamiliar. She felt that the
music education division often modelled teaching and learning in a way that encouraged
undergraduates to be open to new experiences and learning, even if they felt they had little
to bring to an experience, and the participation in Odysseus in her first semester at SCM set
an important precedent for the degree. Interrogating James’s autobiographical data, Caitlin
noted that while officially in a teacher role at the Conservatorium, his experiences creating
and working with people in the Hip-Hop tradition for the first time during Odysseus mir-
rored the experiences of his students, shaping his role as an “experienced learner” (Hone,
2017, p. 53) instead of didactic teacher, more authentic to the mentor relationship seen in
Hip-Hop culture.
Caitlin also saw the Odysseus experience as exemplary of the best learning she experi-
enced during her four undergraduate years at the Conservatorium, where many subjects
were taught in a creative, constructivist manner, “the ones where we actually did things,
we made things ourselves, or we performed […] are the things that we remember”.
Nonetheless, this did not mean that Caitlin found the Odysseus project was by any
means perfect. She hadn’t been aware that she could attend all classes given by the special
guests, and in the one class that was timetabled for her year (an exercise in beat-making
with samples), she felt that the activity could have been more hands-on. The parts of the
project that she felt were most impactful were the recording sessions when she could not
only play the music composed for the ensemble, but was invited to contribute creatively,
to improvise or “ jam” on recorded stems: “I remember from those recording sessions,
that we got to also make up stuff […] that’s one thing in particular, that was significant
about the process, was that we were active contributors”. These activities were the most
direct experiences of intercultural creativity in the whole project, and also the most
impactful.

Problems, Difficulties, Challenges, and Culture

Caitlin and James identified these kinds of problems with the design of the overall project,
but it may be fair to suggest that a balance was struck between student agency and the pro-
fessionalism of the guest artists. In addition, funding multiple curricular incursions with
guest artists is expensive. James explained:

There wasn’t really like much funding, they got paid casual fees, and then we used
masterclass funding to pay them for the public lecture that they gave and a little bit of
other stuff. And that was all of our masterclass funding for the year […] I mean, I wasn’t
quite sure how Jordan was eating.

As discussed, Culture was one of the three strongest themes that emerged during our iterative
and dialogic analysis. At the same time, the second kind of problems, difficulties, and challenges
308  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford
was closely associated with culture, and specifically Conservatorium culture. Given what we
know from the literature on Hip-Hop’s uncomfortable relationship with educational institu-
tions (Crooke & Moreno Almeida, 2017; Gosa & Fields, 2012; Hone, 2017; Söderman, 2013;
Söderman & Sernhede, 2016), it should not be surprising to know that some students in a
conservatory might not approve of a Hip-Hop project. Both authors noted elements of risk
(reputational, of engagement, of outcomes) in the entire residency, especially in the conserv-
atory context. James mentioned experiences of students dropping out of the project because
they didn’t like the language, or it didn’t accord with their religious values and beliefs.
It may be that intercultural creativity cannot be forced: it needs to be allowed to happen
on the terms of the participants. “‘Interculturality,’ as with arts practice, resides both in
a location—whether geographical, spatial, or corporeal—and also within an in-between
space—among and within individuals, milieux, social constructs and cultures” (Burnard,
2015, p. 357). Hundreds of students were given the opportunity to engage, and while many
declined the offer, only a much smaller group were offended by the project: there was no
comfortable space for them. Caitlin, however, found that even students who were most
strongly immersed in learning exclusively classical (Bull, 2019) music still had healthy rela-
tionships with popular music cultures separate to their learning. Nonetheless, in reviewing
archived personal messages, we identified that Caitlin suffered the usual inter-instrumental
conservatory tensions that Perkins (2013a, 2013b) described as “learning cultures of musical
hierarchies”, in the words of her participants, “front rack” and “second rate” (p. 205). In
direct contrast, some of Caitlin’s closest friends at SCM chose not participate in the project
because they “felt they weren’t cool enough”.
More central to the problems with student culture seemed to be a general malaise to-
wards this “in-between space”, towards anything that did not contribute to marks in the
degree, however strongly it might be seen to align. Caitlin noticed this, and not just in this
project, but in others: “I was surprised that more people were just giving up the opportu-
nity. They would be at the Con, but they’re like ‘oh no, I’m just gonna go practice’”. Her
experience was that students in the performance degrees had personal identities so closely
wrapped up with performing core repertoire on their instruments that they found it very
difficult to look beyond those options. At the same time, in analysing Caitlin’s archived
personal messages, both of us noted that the project’s extensive time commitment was
something she frequently emphasised to her own friends.
Caitlin also recognised that the optional parts of the Odysseus residency (the studio re-
cording sessions and being involved in the live performance) had much more structural
support than other residencies that had been part of the Music Education degree, with
Luka’s agent spending whole days at the Conservatorium making sure that students were
attending sessions. Looking at documentation from the time, James confirmed that there
were dozens of students who expressed an interest in being involved (and so he composed
parts for them) who then didn’t show up, or dropped out midway through the project. This
did not just seem to be an effect of the Hip-Hop project: Caitlin mentioned that often she,
as a music education major, turned up to more rehearsals or stayed back to practice more
than “pure” performance majors.

Pluralism
There is a complex question about whether this study design can really reveal insight into
whether a lecturer demonstrating pluralism and involving students in musically plural pro-
jects “works”, in terms of broadening students’ musical experience and avoiding “the WAM
cycle”. It is complex because, as revealed in Caitlin’s autobiographical background, she was
 Activist Pluralism  309
already quite open to such things from her school experience, and because of her willing-
ness to dedicate herself to a project.
At the same time, Caitlin’s openness to this approach, not just from James but from Mi-
chael Webb, meant that open discussion could be had about the effectiveness of the project
and its relation to the degree overall. For example, James was quite surprised that Caitlin felt
that pluralism was such a strong theme in the degree. If anything, her complaint about the
degree overall was that it did not have enough information in it about contemporary musics
and musical creativities, to balance the in-depth musicological, harmony, and aural skills
study of historical WAM: “I think we need more specific, contemporary music explorations,
because Popular Music Studies isn’t enough”. Caitlin had even paid for private electronic
music production courses to address what she perceived as shortcomings in the degree.
In the longest discussion, James asked Caitlin whether she felt that the activist pluralism
approach was manipulative. Caitlin said that because of her experience in high school, it felt
“normal” to be exposed to many different musical cultures, and to work interculturally, but
wondered if it was the same for all of her peers: “I also wonder, and it’s a whole other study,
is, ed[ucation] students’ personal backgrounds, and experiences pre the conservatorium.
And how that predisposes them to being open to your ‘brainwashing’”.
There did seem to be a gentle thread of transformation, a change in perception, and ev-
idence of pluralism at work as regarded Hip-Hop culture overall, though. Coming from a
WAM-oriented view of learning, in which learning is measured by formal study and exam-
ination, Caitlin said at first that she felt that “even though the project was hip hop, I don’t
feel like I learned as much about hip hop as you intended”, in terms of “content” more than
pedagogy and culture. However, the plural approach and practice of intercultural creativity
embedded in the project seemed to have an impact on her perception of “what counted” as
learning. Reflecting later on what worked and what didn’t work about the project, she said
“So maybe that’s one thing that worked […] that truly pluralist approach. Because I think
being introduced to Hip-Hop in other contexts after that project, I was more open to it”.
Again, this suggests that while the activist educator may deliberately create intercultural
“in-between spaces”, students need agency, time, and choice to engage in and develop new
creative and cultural understandings, and for any possible transformation to take hold.

Closing Reflections
This project shared much in common with prior projects that brought outside musical cul-
tures and practices to the conservatorium, including some student “reluctance to commit to
the intense workload of the project” (Renwick & Webb, 2008, p. 95), but it was also unique
in that it brought the world of Hip-Hop, the most “deviantized” (Kallio, 2017) of musics to
the conservatory. The pluralist approach was also consistent with prior projects within the
division (e.g. Dunbar-Hall, 2004; Marsh, 2005; Webb & Renwick, 2008), although perhaps
more deliberately articulated (or justified, in the curricular work) in this case, because of the
deviantised manner of the music in question. In both Caitlin’s and James’s view, the “gentle”
pluralist approach (singular curricular interventions, but open opportunities for students to be
involved) was successful for those who chose to participate, but not without risk, and suffered
most from the student apathy that Webb and Renwick encountered a decade earlier. It cre-
ated a transformative “in-between space”, but not every student chose to engage creatively.
Caitlin’s experiences suggest that both a more open curriculum and more heavily man-
dated student involvement would have been beneficial, but that these recommendations are
tempered by the fact that those very experiences were not typical. Additionally, creating a
new learning culture which both eschewed conservatory hierarchies (Perkins, 2013a) and
310  James Humberstone and Caitlin Sandiford
was inclusive for students who, successful within those hierarchies, still felt they “weren’t
cool enough” is a complex challenge for future projects.
Through the pluralist approach, James sought to de-centre the traditional conservatory
worldview in which “ideas are generally quite fixed regarding what counts as music and
about what constitutes sound pedagogy” (Webb & Renwick, 2008, p. 7). Burnard explains
that developing intercultural translation “requires dialogue, exchange, and co-construction”
(2015, p. 362). The Odysseus project created an “in-between space” for such work. For more
than 100 students who took part, Caitlin deemed this successful: but what about the rest?
We found that from both the student and teacher sides, James’s role could be defined as
activist first because of the overtly stated pluralist position, but also because of the subject
matter of the project which acted as a model for “what it can mean to explore serious issues
through music and to use personal narratives as a ‘way in’ to address vital social […] con-
cerns” (Hess, 2019a, p. 9). For Caitlin, and for the students that she participated with, the
contribution to a new spoken word and Hip-Hop work, with overtly social justice themes,
could indeed be described, as Hess suggests, as an actualisation of conscientisation (Freire,
1970), in line with Montero’s definition as

a mobilization of consciousness aiming to produce historic knowledge about oneself

and about the groups to which one belongs, thereby producing a different understand-
ing, and giving sense to one’s temporal and spatial place in the society, and in one’s
specific life-world.
(2009, pp. 73–74)

We see such reception of the project as consistent with James’s intention in other published
pluralist projects, such as his MOOC (Humberstone, 2016, 2017; Humberstone et al., 2020).
Nina Simone (1964) sang “You don’t have to live next to me, Just give me my equality, Every-
body knows about Mississippi, Everybody knows about Alabama, Everybody knows about
Mississippi, goddam”. John Coltrane created a musical impression of Martin Luther King’s eu-
logy, turning the structure of a speech into the structure of a piece of music. Because of King’s
background, his speech patterns, Long (2020) suggests, “recall activist marriages of music and
text dating back to the coded meanings of spirituals” (p. 176). Coltrane’s activism contributed
to the Civil Rights Movement in the way he knew best, as a deeply spiritual and musical man,
giving “witness and testimony at a time when musical activism motivated both marchers and
leaders alike” (Long, 2020, p. 176). Sometimes giant steps are taken when the door is left ajar,
an insight to a new in-between space, rather than when someone is pushed through.

Afterthought: Pluralism Begets Pluralism?

During their undergraduate studies, Caitlin and three other string-playing friends formed
Quart-Ed, a string quartet of pre-service teachers who prepared diverse repertoire to play
in school incursions. Quart-Ed have adopted an equally pluralist approach, and Caitlin
felt that they were a much better classical quartet for it, reflecting that their experiences in
intercultural creativities increased their understanding of music, even then improving their
performance of WAM.
If anything, Quart-Ed had recently been worrying that their focus was too much on oth-
ered musical cultures:

Well, that’s something like QuartEd are kind of dealing with as well, in an effort to be
pluralist we’ve thrown the baby out with the bathwater: So we’re coming back a little
bit to say, actually, ‘we do like some WAM!’.
 Activist Pluralism  311
Caitlin the student is, seven years on, Caitlin the teacher, bringing a pluralist approach to
her music(k)ing, her praxis, and her research.

Questions for Consideration

1 What creativities are unknown to you? How can you engage in them interculturally?
2 Would you describe any of your own practice as pluralist (according to the definitions
provided)? If yes, what, exactly? If no, what could/would you do immediately that is
pluralist?
3 Would you describe any of your own practice as activist (according to Hess’s definitions,
summarised above)? If yes, what, exactly? If no, how can you bring activism to your
work and play the changes?
4 What (possibly deviantised) musical cultures and creativities are not represented in
your institution or community? Do you have opportunities to make in-between spaces
for intercultural creativities?
5 Might there be any positive outcomes from a pedagogy of discomfort (Boler, 1999)
that takes young people (and yourself ) outside your musical comfort zone, into an in-­
between space?

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27 A Case for Adopting a Collaborative
Pedagogical Model in the Large
Ensemble Music Classroom to Open
the Door for Diverse Creativities
Lauren Yacht

Introduction
Music education is at a crossroads. The need for reform in music curriculum, objectives,
and techniques has become increasingly evident as threats to public performing arts edu-
cation continue to mount. In these dynamic times, the potential for change has bloomed,
brimming with opportunity and humming with an electric uncertainty. The discomfort
and desire for the safety of what we know can drive us back into old ways of being that we
have relied on well beyond their practicality. As we long for certainty and constancy, “that’s
the way we’ve always done it” is the refrain, and it’s a trade-off of safety for progress, of
protection for innovation.
Failure to anticipate the need for adaptation creates a stagnant environment that leaves
growth to chance. This is well illustrated in the field of large ensemble music education,
where the pedagogical model of direct instruction and emphasis on performance-based
outcomes have remained largely unchanged since its inception. A reliance on tradition has
created an inflexible model that has failed to adapt to the challenges and needs of modern
society and will continue to result in cultural disengagement without substantial reform.
The answer lies in fostering engagement among all parties involved in a musical experi-
ence. The frisson of a musical experience necessarily begins with the interactions between
the players creating the music. “Current theories of creativity endorse the idea that dynamic
interaction between individuals, their actions, and their social and material environments
underlies creative performance” (Bishop, 2018, p. 1). This type of creativities-friendly en-
vironment can be generated in the music classroom through a learner-centered, collabora-
tive rehearsal process that encourages communication between ensemble members.
In this chapter, I will explore (1) the traditional approach to large ensemble music peda-
gogy, its drawbacks, and the need for reform; (2) the goals of music education; and (3) how
the door to diverse musical creativities is opened through a collaborative model of instruc-
tion in the large ensemble classroom.

The Current State of Music Education

The Tradition of Teacher-Centered Pedagogy in Music Education

The large ensemble classroom has been dominated by decades of autocratic instruction. School
ensembles, modeled after professional instrumental and vocal organizations, are expected to
perform the dual function of providing music education to its students and entertainment to
the community. Music teachers, known by the title of director, instruct predominantly via
formal, teacher-centered pedagogy (Guzzetta, 2020). With limited exceptions, this is the
traditional model of instruction that is observed in large ensemble classrooms today.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-31
316  Lauren Yacht
The direct instruction model is particularly attractive for large ensemble music educa-
tion due to its perceptions of efficiency. With limited rehearsal time and a large amount of
difficult repertoire to cover, efficiency is one of the primary goals of rehearsal. This desire
for efficiency, coupled with an authoritarian approach, leads to a fundamental need for the
director to control the rehearsal environment and its inputs and outputs. In order to assume
complete control, the rehearsal must function with expectations of silence and obedience
on the part of the musicians, with a methodological approach on the part of the director.
This need for control is cited by Randall Allsup and Cathy Benedict (2008) as one of the
issues preventing the necessary evolution of the North American wind band program, and,
by extension, the culture of the large ensemble classroom as a whole. Allsup and Benedict
also take issue with the tradition of training musicians through conditioning, as well as the
assembly line inspired method of rapid fire drilling commonly implemented for the sake of
“efficiency.”
The underlying motivation behind these methods of control is fear—fear of vulnera-
bility, fear of inconsequentiality, fear of change, and fear of illegitimacy. Relinquishing
control involves humility and vulnerability to criticism, an act that requires courage and
confidence on the part of the director. There is a lurking anxiety that transferring respon-
sibility onto the participants will lead to harsh criticism of the director, inefficient use of
time, and, ultimately, a poor performance that invalidates the practice of music education.
Rather, “if we desire to be viewed as legitimate in the greater scheme of general studies
we might consider that. . .the educational paradigm of rote and recitation and teacher as
transmitter has shifted” (Allsup & Benedict, 2008, p. 164). Inquiry-based methods that
require critical thinking and feedback on the part of students have become a standard in
the majority of disciplines. Similarly, musical creativity, previously understood as a singular
expression of individual will or genius, has evolved into a conceptualization of multiple
forms of relational, embodied, diverse creativities (Burnard, 2012).

The Problems with Teacher-Centered Pedagogy in Music Education

While teacher-centered pedagogy is an effective way of transmitting consistent information
to a large number of students, this mode of distributing information prevents students’ in-
teraction with the material. Allsup (2012) offers the following insight: “passive absorption
is growth in its most superficial way” (p. 184). The use of the traditional teacher-centered
pedagogical model in the large ensemble classroom has led to an overemphasis on perfor-
mance outcomes and the development of technical skill to the detriment of conceptual
knowledge, other musical skills, critical thinking, and student engagement.
One significant problem with teacher-centered pedagogy is the overemphasis on
­product-based outcomes such as ratings, rankings, and audience reception. Rather than a
­process-focused approach that emphasizes the value of the learning taking place within the
rehearsal, the traditional approach places the success of the performance and attainment of
the instructor’s objectives above the informal learning that has taken place in the classroom.
This misalignment of goals promotes the performative value of the school ensemble over
the educative value. Several studies have found that students “adopting performance goals
are more vulnerable to developing helpless responses, particularly when they are focused on
the possibility of failure” versus students who adopt learning goals, who “tend to use deeper
more effective learning strategies and apply what they have learned more effectively” (Hal-
lam, 2002, p. 229).
Similarly, this emphasis on the performance product results in the prioritization of the
development of technical skill over the acquisition of conceptual knowledge in rehearsal.
The National Association for Music Education (NAfME) lists nine educational standards
 Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model  317
that “all school music students should know and be able to do” (Elliott & Silverman, 2015,
p. 200). Among these, seven include elements of conceptual knowledge that are often not
demonstrated in formal performance. These include improvising, composing, notating mu-
sic, listening to and analyzing music, evaluating music, understanding relationships between
music and other disciplines, and understanding music within historical and cultural con-
texts. Each of these skills may be interpreted as its own musical creativity—­compositional,
improvisational, pedagogic, and transdisciplinary—which ought to be fostered and encour-
aged in the music classroom.
In Music Matters: A Philosophy of Music Education, David Elliott and Marissa Silverman
(2015) agree that “skills are just one part of the procedural dimension of all [music thinking
and knowing] that comprise musical understanding” (p. 241). They suggest that students
know too little about who and what they’re performing, and that there is a need for students
to be culturally and historically informed to accurately interpret a piece (p. 245).
In addition to a lack of cultural and historical information, students often lack a funda-
mental understanding of the principles of music theory and foundational aural skills. To
demonstrate the critical importance of this skill, one can examine the emphasis placed on
sight reading in music performance assessment. Sight reading is assessed as a measure of
technical expertise and musical understanding at nearly every evaluative musical assess-
ment, yet students often lack the background knowledge to achieve success. Rather, sight
reading is viewed as “the luck of the draw,” and taught by repetitive drills instead of honed
with the knife of conceptual knowledge.
Additionally, students who are only given direct instruction by the teacher miss the
opportunity to develop crucial skills such as critical reasoning, autonomous learning, and
collaborative problem solving. One reason cited for abandoning one’s musical pursuits after
schooling ends is “because their music instruction has been primarily teacher-­centered—
in other words, teachers have done most of the steps in the processes for the students”
(Cangro, 2016, p. 66). Cultivating higher-order thinking within the process of music
learning creates transferrable skills that will benefit the student as an independent appreci-
ator of music and in other disciplines. By prioritizing efficiency and product over process,
music educators miss an incredible opportunity to nurture crucial and highly valued in-
tellectual skills.
Perhaps the most critical issue related to teacher-centered pedagogy in the large ensem-
ble centers on the lack of student engagement in the rehearsal. Bernadette Scruggs (2009)
encapsulates the concept:

Even if the director leads a perfect rehearsal, he or she has not necessarily engaged stu-
dents in a meaningful musical experience. This may be because conductors neglect to
ask students for their input in regard to the rehearsal or because the music literature is
selected without benefit of student assistance. Another possibility is that directors are
less concerned with student understanding than with student performance. All of these
practices could be described as consistent with a teacher-centered classroom.
(p. 54)

Students must be engaged in developing their own musical understanding. A teacher-­

centered model, by default, requires students to engage only with the ideas coming from the
podium, and to subjugate their own thoughts and ideas about why and how musical inter-
pretations should be made. As students are required to disengage from critical thinking and
follow instruction, inattentiveness is the inevitable result. Rehearsal pacing is another issue
contributing to disengagement, though it only leads to disengagement when one player or
section has little investment in the success of the other. When a director begins the lengthy
318  Lauren Yacht
process of rehearsing a tricky passage with the flutes, the trombones have little reason to
remain engaged in the rehearsal if they are unable to affect the outcome.
The issue of engagement is often treated as a matter of classroom management, but it is
the natural outcome of teacher-centered pedagogy. Student teachers in the large ensemble
classroom are encouraged to maintain a lively rehearsal pace and keep students playing as
much as possible in order to prevent disengagement (with an added bonus of “efficiency”).
A more effective model might aim to engage students in reflective thought and collabora-
tive creativity through active participation in the learning process at all times.

Goals of Music Education

When selecting a pedagogical philosophy, one must examine how the goals and aims of
music education are served by each process. An exploration of the greater goals of music
education reveals how the traditional approach leads to a disproportionate emphasis on the
objectives of technical skill in performance.
The goals set forth by NAfME incorporate a multitude of musical skills, abilities, and
creativities above and beyond performing notated music; however, research indicates that
less classroom time is devoted to “standards requiring creative or artistic decision-making
skills,” particularly in the secondary performance classroom (Williams, 2007, p. 19).
Scott Shuler (2011), former president of the Music Educators National Conference
(MENC), identified five critical principles that should be driving music education: provid-
ing arts education for all students, developing of artistic independence, engaging in creat-
ing, performing, and responding to music, making music education available to all ages,
and attracting a variety of students.
Other outcomes of music instruction that have been promoted by music education ad-
vocacy groups include improved abstract reasoning, improved performance in math, im-
proved self-esteem and SAT scores, and increased ability to engage in teamwork (Williams,
2007)—in other words, the development of diverse creativities (Burnard, 2012). We will
examine several of the most prominent goals of music education in detail.

Creating, Performing, and Responding

In large ensemble music education, one of the principal goals is to assist students in de-
veloping technical skill on their instrument and in ensemble performance. Certainly, the
acquisition of technical skill is required in order to enable a student to attain higher levels
of musical performance; however, technical excellence is not required in order to receive a
quality music education.
There are several concerns that arise when the primary aim of music education is perfor-
mance technique. Most importantly, drilling performance technique does not necessarily
equate to teaching musicality. This is a skill which will serve the majority of ensemble stu-
dents only while they remain in a performing ensemble, which for many ends upon gradu-
ation from high school. Furthermore, retention of these students throughout high school is
limited to around 50%, which does not account for the 85–90% of the student population
who never enrolls in a performing ensemble (Williams, 2007).
This means that the remaining 50% of the small population of students who do remain
within the music program are the only students receiving something resembling a musically
mature education. When we take into account that many students in the ensemble, even the
ones with longevity in the program, will only achieve a “modest performance proficiency,”
it is clear that only a very small percentage of the school population is benefitting from
an emphasis on performance technique (Williams, 2007, p. 20). Additionally, ensemble
 Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model  319
participation is often supplemented with individual lessons outside the classroom in further-
ance of technical skill. David A. Williams states candidly: “Most often, large performing
groups are not about individual learning—they are about the sum of the parts. Such a meas-
ure of success would never be accepted in other academic settings” (Williams, 2007, p. 20).
Contemporary ideas of the goals of music education, paired with the NAfME standards,
support the idea that performing is merely one aspect of the music education paradigm that
includes creating, performing, and responding (Shuler, 2011). The goal of music educators
is not to create professional ensemble performers. Of the students who continue partici-
pation in their secondary large ensemble program, a small percentage will continue music
study at the university level, and an even smaller percentage will go on to obtain positions
performing in professional ensembles. With one study estimating that only 7% of classroom
time in the primary classroom is being spent on standards outside of singing, playing, and
reading notation, it is clear that the priorities of the music classroom have become skewed
toward performance outcomes and the development of technical skill. This focus places a
disproportionate emphasis on the public perception of the ensemble’s performance prowess
over the musical development of individual students.
A large part of the development of musical knowledge that enables creating, performing,
and responding to music is found in a thorough understanding of the foundational concepts
of music theory, history, and other conceptual musical knowledge. Elliott and Silverman
posit that verbal knowledge should be “filtered into the music-teaching-learning situation
parenthetically and contextually, as needed. In other words, verbal dialogues contribute
to, but should never replace, active musicing and listening” (Elliott & Silverman, 2015,
p. 218). To suggest that musical understanding can best be assessed through the demon-
stration of musical skills is to place too great an emphasis on the development of those
practical skills. While it is true that great performers demonstrate exceptional knowledge
of the foundational elements of music and its context, it is also true that individuals can
possess a depth of understanding about music without being able to demonstrate this un-
derstanding non-verbally. In addition, the emphasis on excellence in performance-based
demonstrations of musical understanding excludes from music education large sections of
the school population who may not possess the prior experience to participate satisfactorily
in a ­performance-based activity.
Furthermore, a rigorous and comprehensive understanding of the conceptual elements of
music would be unreasonable to expect of students without dedicating substantial time to
the verbal instruction of these concepts. The traditional approach has involved infusing bits
of information in drips and drabs rather than thoughtfully and expansively and has resulted
in a performance-focused educational culture.

Critical and Creative Thinking

The four Cs of education—critical thinking, creative thinking, collaboration, and
­communication—are considered essential in preparing learners to meet the challenges of
modern times (Kim, 2017). According to the work of John Dewey, critical thinking skills
can be promoted in any discipline through curriculum that provides opportunities for in-
vestigation and reflection. Arts education programs are uniquely suited to the promotion
of these essential skills by providing a subjective medium for exploration and interpretation
­(Kokkidou, 2013).
The music classroom offers a ripe medium for the exploration, analysis, and synthesis of
ideas. Higher-order thinking skills are cultivated through the process of understanding and
applying conceptual knowledge to interpret and communicate musical understanding, and
through the demonstration of this understanding through technical skill in performance.
320  Lauren Yacht
This emphasis on critical thinking skills is the basis of the praxial philosophy of music
presented in Music Matters, which characterizes musical understanding as an embodied act
of active reflection and critically reflective action (Elliott & Silverman, 2015). In a system
dominated by performance outcomes this component is often overlooked, as expressed by
the MayDay Group:

Too much mindless sound-making happens. Too many well-meaning people give
too much credit for mechanical music making and over-produced performances. Too
much emphasis is placed on music-related activity that seems creative and entertaining
but leaves little behind in the person when the fun is over. Wouldn’t it be great to have
students who take seriously what they do in music, people who remember from class
to class what they learned in the last class, people who know what to fix in the music
they are making, people who are eager to get to the next step in whatever they are
working on in music? A critical approach to music making is an indispensable first step
in producing this result. A critical approach is also a dominant and permanent attitude,
not just the first step. Critically reflective musicianship is what happens when a person
intends to do something effective musically, and uses that intention as a standard to
assess what actually happens.
(Kokkidou, 2013, p. 7)

The music classroom also offers a multitude of opportunities for the development of crea-
tive thought, through creative interpretation and expression, improvisation, composition,
arranging, sound production, and more. While creativity can occur within any discipline,
arts classrooms are at a significant advantage in that students who choose voluntarily to
participate in arts programs are often inherently motivated to explore and create within the
context of their learning (Hallam, 2002). The elements of creativity have been described as
(1) originality, (2) expression, (3) social evaluation, and (4) social appreciation, all of which
are present in the daily activities of the large ensemble student (Bishop, 2018, p. 1). The mu-
sic classroom involves a social form of creativity called collaborative creativity, which “in-
volves more complex interaction between group members and can yield and outcome that
is greater than the sum of individual contributions” (Bishop, 2018, p. 2). According to Laura
Bishop, “current theories of creativity endorse the idea that dynamic interaction between
individuals, their actions, and their social and material environments underlies creative
performance” (p. 1). This concept of collaborative creativity can be extended throughout
the offerings within secondary ensemble programs. The opportunities to engage in collab-
oration in creative endeavors with other students are, and should be, present in each facet of
an ensemble program, from marching band to symphony orchestra to show choir.

Lifelong Aesthetic Appreciation

Despite the curricular emphasis on performance technique, ensemble directors understand
that many of the students who graduate from their program may never perform in an en-
semble in their adult lives. When asked what they desire for their students after graduation,
directors might suggest “the cultivation of independent musicianship,” or “a heightened
sense of becoming more musical”—in other words, a lifelong appreciation for and under-
standing of music and aesthetics (Allsup & Benedict, 2008, p. 168).
a In the words of Cathy Benedict (Allsup & Benedict, 2008), “out of all the answers
one might offer I cannot imagine that anyone would suggest obedience” (p. 168).
Yet what is being nurtured by a teacher-centered, performance-based approach to
 Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model  321
ensemble music is precisely obedience. Without the opportunity to actively engage
with and construct musical knowledge, student understanding and appreciation
will lie predominantly within the knowledge and opinions that have been trans-
mitted from the director. Without meaningful engagement, students who passively
receive knowledge and execute skills may suffer from burnout or fatigue and with-
draw from the activity upon its completion (Sternbach, 2008).
Contemporary music programs are under an obligation to do more for their students. All-
sup argues that public school ensembles have a duty to “concern [themselves] with the
development of moral qualities, the cultivation of those human potentialities, powers, and
individualities that enrich and enlarge a young person’s life as she moves through the world
with others” (Allsup, 2012, p. 180). Despite the presence of a moral imperative, ongoing
political pressures keep competition and “concert-as-curriculum” in the forefront of en-
semble education. The moral aims of education include “freedom, empowerment, agency,
self-reliance, [and] one-anotherness”—all of which are virtually impossible to accomplish
under the current teacher-centered, product-oriented model of music education (Allsup,
2012, p. 182). Allsup (2012) offers a pithy summation of the goals of music education:

The quality of [a student’s] band education is judged not by whether she continues to
play in community concert bands after high school or not, or the number of trophies
she leaves behind, but by the degree to which she can create and recreate—fuse and
refuse—a life of complex and self-fulfilling musical engagement.
(p. 186)

Collaborative Music Education

An evaluation of the current state of large ensemble pedagogy in light of the ultimate goals
of music education reveals that our approach as a profession has been largely oriented to-
ward performance outcomes to the detriment of developing holistic musical understanding
for the greatest number of students. Effective reform in large ensemble music education be-
gins with a divergence from traditional performance-based, outcome-driven education and
places its emphasis on a philosophy of process-based comprehensive musicianship through
collaborative participation. While performance can still serve as the primary means of
communicating musical understanding and technical skill, shifting toward a collaborative,
comprehensive musicianship model will greatly enhance the depth of the students’ under-
standing and engagement in the rehearsal process.

Learner-Centered Collaborative Education

The basic principles that define collaborative learning are as follows:

(a) knowledge is socially constructed as ‘a consensus among the members of a commu-

nity of knowledgeable peers’ (p. xii), (b) the authority of knowledge is shared among
the members of the community, and (c) interdependent personal relationships shape a
community of knowledgeable peers.
(Luce, 2001, p. 21)

This aligns with the general principles of constructivism, which also centers on students’
active engagement in the construction of knowledge (Shively, 2015). Collaborative learn-
ing is a way to put into practice the ideals of democratic education, which “benefit[s]
322  Lauren Yacht
both cognitive and skills-based development while encompassing broad humanist values of
fairness and equity” and is “a primary vehicle for the construction of knowledge” (Allsup,
2002, p. 28).
There is substantial evidence that learner-centered classrooms increase student engage-
ment and create more meaningful experiences for students. “In a learner centered classroom
students [ ] make the musical decisions themselves, putting them in control of their own
learning, which has shown to be empowering and motivating” (Guzzetta, 2020, p. 268).
Inviting the opportunity to think critically is just one of the advantages of learner-­
centered pedagogy in the music classroom. By asking students to think, the director enables
them to develop autonomy and independence. Allsup and Benedict (2008) illustrate this
point:

Telling the trumpets to stop playing so loud is not facilitating an environment in which
students are able to take responsibility for their own musicianship; this is an environ-
ment of learned helplessness, of oppressor and oppressed, and the eradication of what it
might mean to be a musician in the broadest sense.
(p. 28)

In addition, a learner-centered approach leads to a decreased emphasis on product-based

outcomes in favor of process-based learning and enjoyment. Altering the rehearsal envi-
ronment to one that invites collaboration “make[s] the rehearsal process as important and
engaging as the performance product” (Turner, 2013, p. 69). Cynthia Johnston Turner, a
prominent collegiate wind band conductor, experienced a significant shift in engagement
following a deliberate effort to engage her ensemble in musical interpretation, rehearsal
analysis, and digital student feedback. Successful performances, even in the best of cir-
cumstances, are never assured—the director can, however, ensure successful learning in
rehearsal. The rehearsal process is an aspect of the artistic environment over which the
director has control; therefore, the process, not the product, should be the primary focus of
the large ensemble curriculum.
The learner-centered approach creates a more holistic listener who is in a better position
to make evaluations and judgments about the music they hear (Green, 2008). In order to
engage the student in their own learning, they must possess foundational knowledge in or-
der to analyze and interpret the new information that they encounter. Fundamental knowl-
edge in music theory, history, orchestration, and performance practice must be woven into
the rehearsal process in order to enable comprehensive understanding.

Implementing Collaborative Rehearsal Techniques in the Large

Ensemble
The question remains as to how collaborative learning is implemented practically in a large
ensemble classroom. We can look to two models to determine the answer: (1) chamber
ensembles and (2) professional organizations who collaborate as a defining characteristic of
their organizational identity.
Historically, music was rehearsed and performed without a central authority figure (Car-
nicer et al., 2015). Chamber ensembles and small chamber orchestras rehearsed by sharing
ideas and implementing suggestions. As orchestras grew larger, a leader, usually the con-
certmaster, was appointed to organize the rehearsal and, presumably, to rein in potential
conflict in the interpretation of ideas. This role was gradually supplanted by the conductor,
a figure whose individual contribution and authority was culturally elevated to the gran-
diosity of the maestro. To a large extent, the centrality of the conductor continues today in
 Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model  323
professional spheres, and certainly in the teacher-centered model of large ensemble music
pedagogy.
Modern chamber ensembles have retained their collaborative nature, however. Members
share equally in preparation for rehearsal and understanding of the piece. During rehearsal,
all players can provide input regarding musical expression and interpretation, whether it re-
lates to their individual part, another member’s part, or to the piece as a whole. The level of
engagement during rehearsal is incredibly high, since all members are actively participating
in the rehearsal process. Most importantly, players are exceptionally engaged during perfor-
mance, a situation where success depends on high levels of non-verbal communication and
attunement between the ensemble members.
The counterargument to adopting a chamber ensemble approach in the large ensemble is
generally that the size of the ensemble will create for a disjunctive and inefficient rehearsal
and performance. This challenge is refuted by a number of large, professional ensembles
that have embraced a conductorless, collaborative model.
The most prominent example is the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. Founded in 1972,
Orpheus is a Grammy Award-winning conductorless chamber orchestra known for its col-
laborative rehearsal approach (Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, n.d.). The orchestra comprises
34 members who rotate leadership responsibilities for rehearsal planning and pacing. All
members of the orchestra study the score in advance and are permitted to contribute mu-
sical ideas during rehearsal. The orchestra is led democratically by three Artistic Directors
who perform with the ensemble and share responsibilities for programming, logistical op-
erations, and the like. The organization also hosts workshops and seminars for educators,
arts organizations, and businesses to share how their collaborative process can translate into
other disciplines.
Similar organizations include A Far Cry in Boston, Massachusetts; Kaleidoscope Cham-
ber Orchestra in Los Angeles, California; One Found Sound in San Francisco, California;
and Unsupervised in Chicago, Illinois. These ensembles are notably conductorless, redis-
tributing the power among the constituent musicians to maintain the democratic nature of
the group. The Academy of St Martin in the Fields, based in London, operates without a
conductor, but retains the historical precedent of being led by its concertmaster.
In some instances, academic ensembles have been inspired by these rehearsal techniques
and have implemented collaborative ideas in their own rehearsals. In 2014, the Ohio State
University Symphonic Band formed a partnership with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra
(OCO) to apply its collaborative techniques to a large college wind band (Ohio State Uni-
versity, n.d.). David M. Hedgecoth (2018), a professor of music education at OSU, com-
pleted a study on student perceptions of a similar ensemble experience and describes the
rehearsal process in detail. First, the conductor met with a core group of students to analyze
the score and form a preliminary musical interpretation, then students were permitted to
self-govern 15–30 minutes rehearsals in a similar manner to OCO.
The study found that students were initially excited about the opportunity to experience
a new rehearsal technique, but gradually became frustrated by the tension and contention
that arose within the new group social dynamic. He states that the precedent of low expec-
tations of individual group members within a large conducted ensemble creates an inability
to operate in a collaborative manner, at least at first. This suggests that initially students
may be resistant to a collaborative process and may require more coaching from a conduc-
tor as they learn to interact organically. The large majority of the ensemble (76%) agreed
that they experienced musical growth as a result of the collaborative rehearsal experience
(Hedgecoth, 2018).
Endeavors into collaborative rehearsal techniques can be made more successful by first pro-
viding defined parameters for communication and encouraging equity (Hedgecoth, 2018).
324  Lauren Yacht
The director must seek to involve all students in authentic engagement with the music,
which may require probing questions, steering discussion, and offering suggestions for
rehearsal, particularly with students at the secondary level who may lack the experience
and confidence to share their musical opinion. Further research into informal music mak-
ing outside of the classroom may offer insight into environments that help students feel
safe being artistically vulnerable in front of their peers (Allsup, 2002). Upon comple-
tion of the  r­ ehearsal and rehearsal cycle, opportunities for self-reflection and assessment
are ­necessary in order to improve further implementations of the democratic technique
(Hedgecoth, 2018).

Conclusion
As a profession serving the public interest, we have a duty to create a dynamic and en-
gaging learning environment for the greatest number of students. Since the inception of
public school music education, the traditional top-down model has resulted in a clear
emphasis on the outcomes of technique-driven performance experiences. While perfor-
mance is certainly the vehicle for expressing musical understanding in the large ensemble
classroom, relying solely on performance as a marker for student learning fails to account
for the richness of learning that can take place within the rehearsal environment. By redi-
recting our focus to the elements that we can affect, namely, the process of rehearsing, we
can ensure an environment that will enhance student engagement and develop students’
musicality, conceptual knowledge, critical thinking skills, creativity, and lifelong appre-
ciation of music.
The driver for active participation in constructing knowledge is involving students in
their own learning through collaboration. Despite perceptions of inefficiency, a slower re-
hearsal pace that allows students to communicate and challenge their ideas will lead to
increased engagement, a greater depth of musical understanding, and, ultimately, an en-
hanced performance. Collaborative rehearsal techniques ask students to take ownership and
“buy in” to their experience. This ownership results in meaningful student learning within
the rehearsal and a truly connected performance.
We must not let fear of performance outcomes drive our desire to best serve our students
in the classroom. Changing our teacher-centered approach and transferring control back to
the ensemble is the only way to truly achieve the end goals of music education and create a
musically rich experience for all students. In the words of Miles Davis (2002, p. 110): “[It’s
not] about standing still and becoming safe. If anybody wants to keep creating, they have
to be about change.”

Questions for Consideration

1 Why has direct instruction been the primary mode of instruction in the ensemble class-
room? What are the advantages and disadvantages of this model?
2 How are ensemble directors currently incorporating collaborative experiences into
their programs? In what way can these efforts be modified or expanded?
3 What are some of the challenges that ensemble directors may face when implementing
a collaborative model in their classroom?
4 Was your previous large ensemble classroom experience authoritarian, collaborative, or
a combination? What were the benefits and detriments of this experience?
5 Can music be taught, or does it need to be experienced? What mode of instruction best
fosters the development of diverse musical creativities?
 Adopting a Collaborative Pedagogical Model  325
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of Research in Music Education, 51(1), 24–37.
Allsup, R.E. (2012). The Moral Ends of Band. Theory into Practice, 51, 179–187.
Allsup, R.E. & Benedict, C. (2008). The Problems of Band: An Inquiry into the Future of Instrumental
Music Education. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 16(2), 156–173.
Bishop, L. (2018). Collaborative Musical Creativity: How Ensembles Coordinate Spontaneity. Frontiers in
Psychology, 9(1), 1–17. http://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01285
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical Creativities in Real World Practice. Oxford University Press.
Cangro, R. (2016). Student Collaboration and Standards-Based Music Learning: A Literature Review.
Update: Applications of Research in Music Education, 34(3), 63–68.
Carnicer, J.G., Garrido, D.C., & Requena, S.O. (2015). Music and Leadership: The Role of the Conduc-
tor. International Journal of Music and Performing Arts, 3(1), 84–88.
Davis, M. (2002). Jazz is hip-hop: James Gillard: Bebop Was About Change, About Evolution. It Wasn’t
About Standing Still and Becoming Safe. If Anybody Wants to Keep Creating They Have to be About
Change. Black Renaissance/Renaissance Noire, 110.
Elliott, D.J. & Silverman, M. (2015). Music Matters: A Philosophy of Music Education. Oxford University
Press.
Guzzetta, C.A. (2020). Learning Method Preferences in a Steel Drum Classroom: Exploring Learner
Centered Pedagogy through Composition, Peer Teaching, and Student-Led Modern Band Projects in
a Middle School Setting. International Journal of Music Education, 38(2), 267–282.
Green, L. (2008). Music, Informal Learning, and the School: A New Classroom Pedagogy. Ashgate.
Hallam, S. (2002). Musical Motivation: Towards a Model Synthesizing the Research. Music Education
Research, 4(2), 225–244.
Hedgecoth, D.M. (2018). Student Perspectives and Learning Outcomes from Self-Guided Ensemble Re-
hearsal. Research and Issues in Music Education, 14(1), 1–27.
Kim, J. (2017). Transforming Music for the Next Generation: Planting ‘Four Cs’ Through Children’s
Songs. International Journal of Early Childhood, 49(4), 181–193.
Kokkidou, M. (2013). Critical Thinking and School Music Education: Literature Review, Research
Findings, and Perspectives. Journal for Learning Through the Arts, 9(1), 1–16. http://doi.org/10.21977/
D9912644
Luce, D.W. (2001). Collaborative Learning in Music Education: A Review of the Literature. Update: Ap-
plications of Research in Music Education, 19(2), 20–25.
Ohio State University (n.d.). Symphonic Band Blog: Collaborative Rehearsal and Performance Resources.
https://u.osu.edu/symphonicband.
Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. (n.d.). About Us. https://orpheusnyc.org/about/about-us.
Scruggs, B. (2009). Constructivist Practices to Increase Student Engagement in the Orchestra Classroom.
Music Educators Journal, 95(4), 53–59.
Shively, J. (2015). Constructivism in Music Education. Arts Education Policy Review, 116(1), 128–136.
Shuler, S.C. (2011). Five Guiding Principles for Music Education. Music Educators Journal, 97(3), 7–9.
Sternbach, D.J. (2008). Stress in the Lives of Music Students. Music Educators Journal, 94(3), 42–48.
Turner, C.J. (2013). Another Perspective: Crowdsourcing Our Ensemble Rehearsals. Music Educators Jour-
nal, 100(2), 68–71.
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cators Journal, 94(1), 18–23.
Part 5

Creativities Authored with/in

the Wider Community
Music education reaches beyond traditional school music education. The authors in this
part take us to online spaces, get us thinking about compassion and curiosity, improvisa-
tion, and community collaboration. The “wider community” in the sense of this part is
expansive and endless in complexity and promise.
Biasutti considers online learning and which creativities matter in such spaces.
O’Leary takes on the pandemic, community ukulele groups, and YouTube.
Moir explores collaborative composition creativities, composers, and the role of input.
Andrews and Wendzich study collaborative composition creativity, professional compos-
ers, and the interaction between students and teachers.
Chong takes a look at future readiness through the lens of John Coltrane’s Giant Steps
album.
Makris and Himonides discover which creativities are the focal point in the music edu-
cation programs in Cyprus.
Hendricks studies compassion and curiosity as it applies to creativities in music education.
Gunasekara and Wise explore Instagram as a tool in the production of creativities in
music education.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-32
328  Creativities Authored with/in the Wider Community
28 Online Music Learning
Which Creativities Matter?
Michele Biasutti

Introduction
Creativity can be expressed through various forms and modalities (Ratten, 2017). Musical
forms contain particular suggestions and intentions because they encompass the auditory
dimension and take place over time, involving a space-time perception. These behaviours
can be expressed through a variety of sound and musical acts that summarise the experi-
ences that people mature within society and culture (Burnard, 2012a).
Online learning has had a significant boost in recent years due to technological innova-
tion, expansion of the internet, increasingly advanced software, and the possibility of freely
using online platforms to which musicians can access to interact in various ways (Randles,
2015). The virtual environments act as an amplifier of musical creativity defining condi-
tions in which the possibilities of contact and interaction between the participants have
multiplied, crossing borders and connecting far away states and places which have led to the
breaking and crumbling of linguistic and cultural barriers.
The COVID-19 pandemic has further stimulated the use of technology and distance
learning as a way to gain musical experiences (Antonini Philippe et al., 2020; Biasutti et al.,
2021; Hash, 2021, Schiavio et al., 2021). Online music learning has brought both organisa-
tional and pedagogical benefits. Regarding the organisational advantages, the flexibility of
remote access and the asynchronous time dimension are among the most relevant elements
since users can access content and platforms from all over the world, freeing themselves
from space-time constraints (Hash, 2021). Time management becomes more flexible when
activities are carried out asynchronously, without necessarily involving real-time interac-
tion. Regarding the pedagogical advantages, there is a direct interaction with the teachers
and the definition of personalised learning programmes based on the training needs of the
students (Biasutti et al., 2021). These aspects can induce and encourage a greater respon-
sibility of students regarding their own learning than traditional learning environments.
In addition, there is an extensive use of cooperative learning and collaborative techniques
in online learning that often connect with online learning communities (Waldron, 2017).
The internet creates multiplied occasions and forms of collaboration in the virtual space,
expanding the possibility to express creativity actions within the wider community.
The problem is how to study the various forms of creativity that can be stimulated during
online music learning, considering creative behaviours as even the simple actions that can
occur in everyday life (Burnard, 2012b). In recent years, online music creativity has de-
veloped in several directions that have involved listening, performance, improvisation, and
composition (Lothwesen, 2020). We have witnessed the development of a global learning
community (Waldron, 2017) and the variety of interactions and the development of teach-
ing and learning methods have expanded exponentially. This has extended the dimension
of the work to a collaborative sphere (Schiavio et al., 2020) within the wider community,
considering interaction in groups as a reference (Ratten, 2017). We no longer learn only

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-33
330  Michele Biasutti
individually, we interact online with other users and exchange information, knowledge and
socialise our practices and skills (Partti & Westerlund, 2013). The models of socio-cultural
development of knowledge encompass the theories of social constructivism as a reference
(Biasutti & EL-Deghaidy, 2012). Constructivism refers to active learning techniques where
students build representation of knowledge based on previous experiences. In a construc-
tivist environment, the building of knowledge happens through learners’ social interaction
and student’s work interactively accessing resources and creating task content and connec-
tions to several resources (Biasutti & EL-Deghaidy, 2012). The development of knowledge
with peer collaboration promotes control of student learning process through reflecting,
critical thinking, and the application of metacognitive skills (Biasutti, 2018).
Technology has dramatically expanded learning contexts outside educational institutions
and places that are not traditionally used for training, giving a significant enhancement to
informal learning (Burnard, 2012b). Informal learning differs from formal learning because
it is characterised by a low degree of planning and structuring, modifying the supports that
can be provided, the times, aims, and objectives of learning. In informal learning, there are
no defined standards to acquire (Woody, 2020). Activities are conducted for the pleasure of
carrying them out and they can take place through daily interactions thorough sharing rela-
tionships between participants (Längler et al., 2020). Even if there is not a defined planning
to follow, informal learning contexts can develop various general skills such as reflection,
critical reasoning, problem solving, and teamwork. These learning praxis are connected to
learner-centred models where students are at the centre of the educational process rather
than being controlled exclusively by the teacher (Biasutti, 2018).
Technological devices reduce the distance between formal and informal learning, since
they allow you to express musical ideas even at an informal level, without having great
technical expertise, making it possible to create music through the various platforms and
resources available on the internet (Lv & Luo, 2021). This connects the experiences of
professional musicians with those of informal musicians who come together online for the
pleasure of playing, improvising, and creating music. Media and technological devices have
the potential to induce a process of acculturation of the people who use them, determining
new virtual social contexts in which the interactions that develop within online platforms
are fundamental to determine learning in the music field (Waldron, 2017). The devel-
opment of the internet and technologies related to web 2.0 allows the contexts of social
and cultural interaction to be multiplied by making available various situations that have
enormous educational potential (Burland, 2020; Hash, 2021; Lv & Luo, 2021). Rather than
the term ‘world’, we can consider ‘worlds’ of informal music education, using the plural
because there are diverse virtual situations, contexts, people, skills, and experiences that
come into play (Waldron, 2017).
In the field of music, informal learning can involve spontaneous actions outside of pre-­
established programmes (Green, 2009), which implement mechanisms such as learning to
play a piece of music by ear, selecting musical material, listening to the piece independently,
deciding the repertoire to play, defining your own listening playing list, and improvis-
ing with other musicians (Kenny, 2014). These actions can support performance and skill
practice and often develop through peer counselling and participation in communities of
practice (Waldron, 2017). Informal learning can happen when people have the opportu-
nity to observe and participate in the musical activities that occur in their file and culture
(Burnard, 2012a). Informal learning has several advantages such as flexibility and adapta-
tion to learning needs because it could be tailored on the person, in line with individual
needs rather than educational standards (Green, 2009). Informal learning could involve a
direct transfer of learning into practice and through problem-solving activities (Biasutti &
Concina, 2021). The formal and informal dimensions of learning can be linked to innovate
 Online Music Learning  331
traditional and old-fashion teaching methods (Thorpe, 2017). Informal activities could be
very useful because they can inspire and provide stimuli for renewing traditional educa-
tional practices. New approaches for music education are defined within the wider com-
munity by using interactive and learner-centred teaching methods based on collaboration
(Green, 2009).
In the current chapter, rather than proposing a definition or several definitions of mu-
sical creativity, studies connected with musical creativity (Biasutti, 2015a, 2015b, 2018;
Biasutti & Concina, 2021; Seddon & Biasutti, 2008, 2009a, 2009b, 2010) will be presented
to highlight the underlying processes and the ways in which musical creativity could be
expressed. This provides examples of how musical creativity can emerge in various ways in
virtual worlds, making clear that it can be embedded in various life contexts and in even
informal ways. Research will be presented below that involved online music learning in
the following areas:

1 Students’ strategies while learning to play an improvised blues in an e-learning

environment
2 Strategies adopted by a rock band composing collaboratively online
3 Electroacoustic collaborative composing online ECCOL

Study 1: Students’ Strategies While Learning to Play an Improvised

Blues in an E-Learning Environment
This study reports a common situation that we can find in everyday life when we search
on the internet for music lessons to improve our musical performance skills. You can find
several hundreds of thousands of sites that offer online lessons without any information re-
garding the teaching method used, the pedagogical foundations, and the type of resources
available. In addition, the relevance by which the sites are listed by search engines does not
respect a qualitative dimension of the teaching offered, but it is based on other parameters
such as the domain name of the site, index principles of the website, and daily visits. Many
of the didactic approaches related to the music learning resources accessible on the internet
are founded on instructional models involving simple practice, whereas interactive didactic
methods based on a learner-centred approach are used less often. The problem is that several
sites have not yet been the subject of a pedagogical evaluation.
This study reveals hidden and unprecedented behaviours by collecting video record-
ings of students’ study sessions, sessions that normally take place at home in isolation. A
method based on observation was adopted, analysing the difficulties and procedures used
by students to learn to play on the internet on their own. The efficacy of a music e-learning
resource for playing an improvised blues was investigated and is based on previous research
(Seddon & Biasutti, 2008, 2009a, 2009b, 2010). The focus was on the learning strategies
adopted by participants while learning to play a 12-bar improvised blues, with both hands
together, on a musical keyboard in an asynchronous e-learning environment. The follow-
ing research question drives the study: what approaches to learning participants employed
when engaging with the blues activities?

Participants and Activities

Three participants (two females and one male, average age 21 years) worked individually
in an asynchronous e-learning environment with the assistance of the ‘Blues Activities’
text, and supporting musical material. The six ‘blues activities’ were designed to enable a
complete beginner to play an improvised 12-bar blues on electronic keyboard and consist
332  Michele Biasutti
as follows. Activity 1 presented three, left hand, two-fingered blues chords in the key of
A. The 12-bar blues sequence was demonstrated and the participants were required to
play this 12-bar sequence, with the left hand only, in time with pre-recorded piano ‘guide
track’ and metronome beat. During this activity participants also learned the following
technological skills: how to record themselves, save MIDI file recordings, and send them
via email to a ‘remote facilitator’ for guidance during and/or after the activity was com-
pleted. Activity 2 extended the experience of the previous activity from 12 to 48 bars,
introduced bass and drum backing, and provided an example of an improvised blues solo.
Activity 3 demonstrated the ‘A’ blues scale and the participants were required to play it,
with the right hand only, in time with pre-recorded piano ‘guide track’ and metronome
beat. Activity 4 demonstrated four short blues ‘riffs’ and the participants were required to
play them with the right hand only. Activity 5 provided the participants with the opportu-
nity to experiment playing improvised solos, with the right hand only, by combining the
previously learned ‘riffs’ and creating their own ‘riffs’ from the blues scale they had learned
in Activity 3. An opportunity to have support from piano, bass, and drums backing tracks
was provided. Activity 6 provided the participants with the opportunity to combine the
12-bar sequence they had learned for the left hand with improvising a blues solo in the right
hand. Support from drums and bass backing tracks over 48 bars was provided. A ‘remote
facilitator’ was available to provide advice, support, and encouragement during and after
each learning session. Research methodology included video observation techniques and
semi-structured follow-up interviews.

Findings
Findings of a mixed qualitative and quantitative analysis revealed five distinct learning ac-
tivities which were interpreted as instruction, copying, practising, playing, and evaluating.
Instruction happened while the participants referred of being instructed by combinations
of the text, audio examples, the musical material, the e-learning environment, and the on-
line tutor. Copying was related to participant descriptions of copying the musical material
provided and behaviours such as copying the guide tracks while playing and recording with
them. Practising happened when the participants referred to studying behaviours and while
they were repeating several times, individual musical fragments overcome certain technical
difficulties with and without the guide tracks. Playing was while the participants referred
to their recorded performances consisting of long fragments and conducted with the aim of
enjoying the performance. Evaluating referred while participants assessed by listening and
making positive and negative evaluation decisions of their own work.
Two activities were different from the traditional learning process: instruction and evalu-
ation because they were self-driven by the students. The instruction dimension is normally
carried out by the teacher and not directly by the student. In this case, the students taught
their-self by learning on their own relevant aspects such as how to use technology, how to
play chords, how to play the blues scale on the keyboard and other musical skills such as
keeping time and following a backing track. Another relevant aspect concerns the evalua-
tion that often is relegated to the teacher. However, in this case the students were invited
to listen to their own performances and to choose the best one to send to the teacher for
assessment. The students were stimulated to reflect on their own performances and on what
they produced so far. We could speak of self-evaluation and these online activities have
developed the abilities of students to self-assess.
The findings showed that at the end of the activities, all participants were able to play
the 12-bar improvised blues with both hands together after completing the blues activ-
ities.  The participants successfully performed the musical activity in the online setting,
 Online Music Learning  333
which facilitated the development of abilities such as planning, organising, monitoring, and
assessing one’s competencies. In addition, the following aspects of the e-learning setting
were considered helpful: the use of a particular topic theme, the synergy between theory
and practice, the flexibility of the work schedule, the easy use of the platform, and the full
access to essential tools.

Study 2: Strategies Adopted by a Rock Band Composing

Collaboratively Online
This study is based on Biasutti (2015a, 2015b, 2018) and analysed the learning activities of
adult musicians during the composition of a new musical work through online collabora-
tion. The study utilised a mixed-method descriptive design through video observation of
the participants’ interactions during the online activities. A screenshot of the video data
used for analysis is reported in Figure 28.1.
In addition, individual semi-structured interviews were conducted with the participants
after the learning sessions to analyse the method of work and the processes adopted. The
following research question guided the study: what approaches do participants adopt during
the online activities?

Participants and Platform

The participants were the three members of the Italian rock band Reeta Pawone: Matteo
(bass guitar), Marco (guitar), and Paolo (computer/keyboards/vocals) who recorded two
CDs with their own compositions. The participants had approximately 20 years of expe-
rience in band performances with genres such as rock and electronic rock and their ages
ranged from 37 to 39 years.
The participants interacted in a virtual environment using synchronous and asynchro-
nous tools to develop the composition project. The online resource included several fora
(listening, software for online performance, session planning, composition, instruments,

Figure 28.1  Screenshot of video data used for analysis.

334  Michele Biasutti
technical), blog, and a diary. In the listening forum links to music by other rock bands for
inspiration and listening to the atmosphere of other music; detailed comments on the music;
proposals of demos. The software forum for online performance included the characteris-
tics of the software for the online performances—indicating passwords, comments on the
functionality of the software, technical problems such as the latency of internet streaming.
The session planning forum was useful for the planning of the synchronous (real-time)
sessions, making appointments for the sessions (synchronous activity), discussing the tech-
nical resources, and suggestions for a better organisation of the compositional activity. The
composition forum regarded the comments on and detailed evaluation of the live sessions
performed by the group, proposals for selecting and organising the material, and proposals
for modifying sounds and parts of the music piece. The instruments forum reported the
musical instruments available for the overall project and the instruments that the musicians
intended to use during individual sessions. In the technical forum discussions about the
technical setup and the technical problems were reported. The event forum reported events
and concerts by other rock bands. The blog was useful for expressing personal feelings
while the diary included descriptions of how the activities proceeded, including personal
comments.

Findings
The group started to work with an online session of listening to music by other rock bands
followed by discussions. The aim was to take inspiration from listening to the atmosphere
of music by other bands and to define general aspects of the music piece to be composed.
The live sessions started with improvisation, which was a way to experiment with ideas and
material. Paolo proposed a backing track using the computer, and the participants engaged
in improvisation. Paolo manipulated the backing tracks on the computer during group
live composition sessions, and the other musicians developed their sound ideas. During the
live sessions, the verbal communications were mostly short and focused on specific issues
rather than long and argumentative. All the video and audio recordings of the live sessions
were uploaded on the platform, and the participants listened to them. The participants
exchanged ideas on the web platform about the improvisations and the music material that
were developed during the sessions, including the new ideas and other features of the music.
Participants evaluated the various sessions and collaboratively made selections and decided
how to develop the sound material for the new music piece.
The findings showed that the participants successfully completed the composing task in
the virtual environment and the following five learning activities were observed during the
video recording analysis: experimenting, listening/evaluating, constructing, playing, and
technical issues. Experimenting included individual and collective behaviours such as ex-
ploration of the musical material (e.g. the search for timbres) and improvisation, when
new music phrases have been generated extemporaneously. Listening/evaluating happened
while the participants listened and evaluated the recordings of their improvisations and
identified specific passages and fragments that could be used for the creation of the new
music piece. During constructing, the musical material was shaped and several actions were
performed such as organising/mounting and revising/adapting. In organising, participants
defined general principles and the framework of the music piece discussing, e.g., how many
repetitions of the fragments should be included. During revising/adapting some fragments
or sounds that did not fit together were adjusted, and changes were made to the music ma-
terial through various actions such as refining and rearranging the compositional structure.
During constructing participants interchanged musical and verbal communication, provid-
ing musical instances of how they intended to develop or modify the piece. During playing,
 Online Music Learning  335
participants practised and rehearsed the piece of music by playing individually, playing col-
lectively, and playing verbally. Playing individually included events such as practising small
fragments individually with the aim to learn them. In playing collectively, participants
rehearsed the music piece together to acquire a feeling and to develop their confidence in it.
In playing verbally, participants communicated verbally about playing to verify if the other
members were ready (e.g. ‘Please, tell me when I can start’) or providing instruction about
when to start to play or which fragment to perform (e.g. ‘Let’s take it from the beginning’).
In addition to technical problems, participants had to resolve issues related to software,
internet connection, sound equalisation, and mixing. Software issues involved aspects such
as saving files; in Internet connection, there were problems due to the slowing down of the
internet connection speed and the associated poor quality of the transmission of the audio
and video signals. The problems regarding the equalisation and audio mixing involved ad-
justments in the balance between frequency components of the individual instruments and
improvements of the volume balance of the instruments or microphones.

Study 3: Electroacoustic Collaborative Composing OnLine (ECCOL)

This study is based on the Electroacoustic Collaborative Composition OnLine (ECCOL)
project (Biasutti & Concina, 2021), and focuses on online composition processes, investi-
gating the learning activities of eight electroacoustic composers engaged in collaboratively
composing new electroacoustic pieces. A multiple case study methodology was used, in
which different units of analysis of a specific situation were examined with a mixed-method
technique. Composers have been working in groups of two or three participants with the
aim of creating an electroacoustic musical piece lasting about five to eight minutes. No
music constraints related to style, genre, framework, or technique were imposed on the
participants, who were free to decide how to proceed in the compositional process and how
to develop the music piece. However, the researchers established a set of rules about com-
municative exchanges to ensure that the work was conducted entirely online. Material was
collected, and all steps in the activities were documented. The following research question
was considered: what approaches and strategies do electroacoustic composers adopt when
engaging in collaborative compositional activity?

Participants and Platform

Participants were eight composers (one woman and seven men): six of them were college
students while two were semi-professional composers. All were skilled in different compo-
sitional techniques (e.g. algorithmic composition techniques, fixed media, live digital signal
processing), and they chose to join the research study voluntarily. Participants did not know
each other before the project and had not been involved in a collaborative compositional
project before. The participants were divided into three groups of two and three composers.
A virtual space was made available to the participants on the university’s Moodle plat-
form, which was divided into the following four main sections:

• The general section, which included all the information about the project, a forum
with the researcher’s team news, a forum for support for technical issues, and a folder
with additional materials about the project.
• The team work section which was useful for performing the collaborative composi-
tional task, which included a forum for asynchronous communications, a chat appli-
cation for synchronous communications (only writing), a Wiki for reporting group
activity (the activity diary), and a database.
336  Michele Biasutti
• The electroacoustic composer community section offered virtual space for all the par-
ticipants to communicate, share, and exchange ideas, links, and materials connected
with the artistic and professional activities of the composers.
• In the online space for collaborative composition the compositional software program
OhmStudio was available for each group of composers.

Results
The main features of the collaborative compositional activity of each group were exam-
ined and compared using the following previously described indicators: working approach,
relational model, members’ roles, leadership, organisation, and compositional process. Par-
ticipants interacted exclusively in a virtual environment to manage all phases of the com-
positional task. Verbal interactions were linked to the compositional activity that took place
in the OhmStudio working space. Each group showed a communicative style connected
with a specific working modality, according to their personal characteristics and organi-
sation possibilities. Group 1 often adopted synchronous communicative exchanges (Skype
meetings and chat) to create a close interpersonal relationship, sharing the leadership of the
project equally. Conversely, groups 2 and 3 preferred asynchronous communication, prob-
ably due to time zone differences and personal commitments.
The main difference between groups involved the definition of specific roles and the
management of leadership. Groups 1 and 3 shared a relational structure similar to the ‘hori-
zontal relationship model’ (Burnard & Younker, 2008). Conversely, the relationships in
group 2 were based on a hierarchical structure, where one member demonstrated a leading
role during the online activity. Group 2 was the most heterogeneous of the three, not only
in terms of professional expertise but also for demographic characteristics (gender and age).
This was the only group with a female composer, and one member was significantly older
than the other two.
There were some differences in the organisation and the compositional process regard-
ing the strategies used for starting and planning the activities. The composers in Group 1
defined the project goals in a preliminary stage—before starting the compositional task—­
choosing their musical objectives after discussing and negotiating several ideas through a sort
of virtual brainstorming. Members of group 3 also dedicated time to searching for themes
and topics that could be used as musical cues for composing their piece. Group 2 adopted a
more inductive process for defining the objectives; however, a different bottom-up strategy
emerged: participants started experimenting with variations and sound manipulations of a
musical event with the aim of having musical objectives emerge gradually. Considering the
activities performed by the three groups, the following model could be proposed:

1 context definition;
2 planning/organising;
3 experimenting/generating;
4 constructing; and
5 evaluating.

In the context definition phase, the participants discussed the context in which the piece
could be developed, explicating the surrounding ideas. In the planning/organising phase,
the aims of the activities were defined or emerged, and a general framework of how to
develop the piece was discussed. The design of the activities was implemented, defining
the objectives, the way of working, and the general organisation. The discussion involved
a constant negotiation of goals, roles, and responsibilities, with a great involvement of
 Online Music Learning  337
individuals’ social competence. This recursive phase occurred several times for redefining
the aims and organisation of the activities (e.g. when something was not working). The ex-
perimenting/generating phase was characterised by the creation of musical events, through
the elaboration of sound material and/or recorder tracks in an attempt to discover musical
ideas to use in the piece. When constructing, the events were assembled and mounted in a
coherent way. At this stage, a compositional grammar was generated. Finally, in the eval-
uating phase, the sound material was listened to and discussed. This was a recursive phase
that occurred several times to assess specific sections or the whole piece and ensure constant
monitoring of the task progresses.
The five phases could be seen in the working process of all the groups. However, the
model assumed a personalised structure for each project team: while group 1 mainly fol-
lowed the general model structure, group 2 started with an experimenting phase, leaving
the definition of the context until after the conclusion of the musical ideas generation.
Group 3 repeatedly alternated between the constructing and evaluation phases until the
end of the project, which was characterised by an overall evaluation of the musical product.

General Discussion
The current chapter presented three different studies focused on online musical creativity
within the wider community. In the first study, participants learned to play a blues and ex-
pressed their creativity through the possibility of improvising using the blues scale. In this
case, the quality of musical thought was not analysed and the focus was on the possibility of
acquiring procedures and practices that could allow the participants to express their creativ-
ity. A qualitative evaluation of creativity could be the purpose of further studies, highlight-
ing what could be the best ways and conditions for the expression of musical creativity. In the
second study, the behaviours and strategies used to compose collaboratively a rock piece were
analysed through video observations. The participants expressed their creativity through
various behaviours such as the planning of the piece, which was original and did not follow
pre-established patterns. In addition, the improvisation was a moment of brainstorming,
which allowed participants to express their ideas to identify some unprecedented aspects.
Furthermore, the actions of construction and organisation of the piece, which took place in
an original way, looking for the best strategies to assemble the material previously produced
during the improvisation, expressed the creative potential of the group. These actions have
gone through group development in which each member has contributed. In the third study,
the behaviours of electroacoustic music composers while composing a new piece were ana-
lysed. Similarly to study two, in this case different strategies have been highlighted that can
be applied to innovate the teaching of electronic composition in music conservatories.
A common element of the three presented studies is that they all focus on the processes
implemented by the participants, identifying the actions and behaviours necessary to carry
out the assigned tasks. The identified actions could be a stimulus for the development of
teaching on processes rather than on products, focusing on specific actions. Process teach-
ing could be particularly significant in the music field because it allows you to develop and
work on definite skills involved in making music.

Educational Implications and Further Developments

The presented studies provide ideas for understanding the cognitive and artistic processes
that occur in informal music learning environments in the wider community. The modes
by which the participants virtually interacted and developed their actions have implications
for music education (Biasutti & Concina, 2021). Regarding learning to play an improvised
338  Michele Biasutti
blues participants, it was demonstrated that participants were able to self-instruct and to
manage the online procedures (Ruokonen et al., 2017). Regarding the compositional ac-
tivities, it emerged that it is possible to compose both rock and electroacoustic music pieces
working collaboratively online. Participants used divergent thinking skills to express their
own musicianship dimension with sounds (Fautley, 2005). They developed abilities such
as analysing the different parts of the piece, making the intuitive decision criteria explicit,
and working directly on the sound, expressing processes that are qualitatively different
from those of traditional composition techniques (Biasutti, 2018). These activities provided
rich data on the compositional processes during online learning and could be of reference
for fostering divergent thinking skills in the music education curriculum (Partti & West-
erlund, 2013; Thorpe, 2017). The compositional activities could be applied in designing
collaborative composition activities in educational contexts (Hopkins, 2015). The proposed
model could give ideas for working with students in collaborative compositional activities
and the different phases may help group members in organising the work and managing the
subtasks, structuring positive interpersonal exchanges (Thorpe, 2017). Innovative contexts
such as online and virtual settings are needed to promote the divergent skills of the stu-
dents, by stimulating interactive communication and active collaboration (Ratten, 2017).
Informal learning context could provide several stimuli because ‘teachers may want to
incorporate aspects of the informal learning model to afford students more opportunities for
autonomous music learning in school’ (Woody, 2020, p. 5). In addition, a didactic on the
process rather than on the products has to be promoted where students have to be respon-
sible for their own learning. Compositional activities have great educational potential and
should be considered the foundation of basic music education (Burnard, 2012a; Thorpe,
2017), balancing creative, performance, and listening tasks.
Indications for further research could be developed considering aspects such as the in-
volvement of online collaborative music creativity tasks related to interpersonal exchanges
and the roles assumed within the groups. These approaches could provide insights for un-
derstanding the collaborative creative behaviours of participants. Possible discussion ques-
tions could include the following: what new trends of creativity behaviours the virtual
environment stimulate? How the development of virtual communities of practice could
improve music creativity? How online collaboration could enhance music creativity? How
we can use in formal music education contexts the stimuli that informal music activities
provide us? What challenges and stimuli online music learning pose to music education and
how we can innovate the music curriculum?

Questions for Consideration

1 What does an ‘ideal’ curriculum look like?
2 How much should creativities inside the classroom look like creativities in the greater
world of music?
3 How do ‘virtual’ music teaching and learning environments open up possibilities for
musical creativities from an international standpoint?
4 What is the best relationship of formal and informal perspectives of music teaching and
learning?

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29 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams
The Creativities of an Online Music
Community during a Global Health Crisis
Emmett O’Leary

Introduction
The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams began in March 2020 as people throughout North
America quarantined due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Public health restrictions limited
music-making opportunities. For me, this meant the monthly ukulele jams I had attended
were canceled along with most any other way to interact with other musicians in person.
I turned to YouTube as a musical outlet along with countless others who found themselves
newly musically isolated. However, despite the physical isolation I turned to a wider com-
munity encompassing a global membership and mediated means of meeting. YouTube had
long been a meaningful part of my ukulele learning. I had studied ukulele tutorial channels
on the YouTube platform (E. O’Leary, 2020) and regularly enjoyed tutorials and ukulele
covers in my leisure time. As quarantine began, I noticed a new form of engagement
emerging from an established ukulele teacher on YouTube. The host began offering a daily
live stream to provide a musical outlet as, according to the description in the videos, “we are
in our homes many more hours than before.” What followed was a series of 93 live streams
featuring more than 146 hours of ukulele instruction, playing, and community.
The ukulele, in many ways, was a natural musical outlet during quarantine. Ukuleles are
affordable and, compared to other instruments, can be played with minimal disruption in
shared living spaces. It is an instrument with few barriers to getting started, and beginners
can quickly develop basic skills. Ukulele groups are often participatory (Thibeault, 2015;
Thibeault & Evoy, 2011; Turino, 2008) and function in ways that are well adapted to the
YouTube platform. Unlike ensemble experiences that might require participants to hear one
another or musical events in which musicians play different parts, ukulele groups are often
sing-alongs where everyone performs more or less the same part at the same time. While
participants cannot hear each other through YouTube live streams, the live stream’s host
can essentially replicate the experience of an in-person session through musical modeling
and guiding experiences to follow along with. There is also a generally cheerful disposition
associated with the ukulele. For example, in the documentary The Mighty Uke, commu-
nity musicians used the phrase “Music self-played, is happiness self-made” (Coleman &
­Meagher, 2010) as a broad rationale for making music on the ukulele. Researchers studying
community ukulele groups have found similar sentiments, including Kruse’s (2013) study
where community ukulele group members described a feeling of “ohana,” Reese’s (2019)
study showing participants experiences of community, and the aptly titled study “A smile
on everybody’s face” (Giebelhausen & Kruse, 2018) describing the fun and joy experienced
through participatory music-making through the ukulele.
Prior studies examined in-person community ukulele experiences where participants
were all in the same physical space. Yet, a vital aspect of the Quarantine Ukulele Live
Streams was that participants were dispersed throughout the world. Waldron (2018) and
Cayari (2017) have discussed YouTube as a “place for musical creativity” (p. 496), and I

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-34
342  Emmett O’Leary
suggest that throughout the live streams, YouTube was a place to make music and learn to
play the ukulele for countless participants. It was also a place of remarkable creativities in
making and teaching music, a space for interaction, and much more. In this chapter, I dis-
cuss the place of the Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams and the diverse creativities the host
demonstrated through their interactions with a community of musicians mediated through
the YouTube platform.

Framework
This study’s theoretical framework draws on ideas from three distinct but complementary
areas. The first is scholarship on community music broadly, and online community music
as conceptualized by Cayari (2011, 2015) specifically; second is media studies, including
research on live streaming (Taylor, 2018) and the YouTube platform (Burgess & Green,
2018); and third, work recognizing that these musical interactions represent multiple crea-
tivities (Burnard, 2012). These three areas combine to provide a lens into the live streams as
community music experiences that are media products shaped by diverse creative practices.
Community music, according to Bartleet and Higgins, “can be understood in a variety
of ways, reflecting a myriad of possible contexts and musical situations” (2018, p. 3). The
type of community can vary and include communities of practice in both on- and off-line
contexts (Waldron, 2012, 2013). The word “community” should be considered broadly
and encompass online affinity spaces ( J. O’Leary, 2020), where membership is fluid and
participation levels vary. YouTube is a platform for musical engagement as Cayari (2017)
explained, “YouTube as a medium, has provided technology that affords musicians new
ways to make music and share recordings with others” (p. 469). Live streaming is a further
extension of the platform enabling a music educator a networked medium to teach and
interact with learners.
In media studies, scholars suggest that the platform’s role is central to understanding
online media production (Burgess & Green, 2018). YouTube is a major platform in live
streaming, but streamed content is just a small fraction of YouTube’s broader library of
asynchronous videos. Unlike traditional broadcast television, YouTube offers a means for
the audience to engage with content directly on the platform. For asynchronous videos,
audience members can subscribe to a channel, view videos, and see how many times a video
has been viewed, commented on, and either liked (thumbs up) or disliked (thumbs down).
Live streaming adds more opportunities for interaction. Taylor (2018) suggested that live
streaming “has become a new form of networked broadcast” (p. 32) and that the means of
interaction go beyond what was previously afforded. Innovations such as the synchronous
chat window offer broadcasters a means to interact with their audience in real time. The
chat feature is central to live streaming; as Taylor remarked, “how the broadcaster interacts
with and builds connections to those watching them is a powerful component” (p. 281) of
the experience for both the streamer and the audience.
Within the context of this study, creativity should be considered broadly and across do-
mains such as media and music. Burnard (2012) argued for the “broadening of the concept
of musical creativity from its singular form so as to let it embrace particular manifestations
of multiple musical creativities” (p. 8). While musical creativities can be considered along
the lines of musical products such as songs, composed works, or improvised performances,
the product in the context of this study is a piece of media that is pedagogical and reflects
types of creativity that go beyond the musical domain. These creativities include pedagog-
ical creativity, the facilitation of a creative space including media creativities such as digital
placemaking (Halegoua & Polson, 2021) and vernacular creativity (Burgess, 2006), and
elements of entrepreneurial creativity (Burnard, 2012).
 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams  343
Pedagogical creativity is the creativity that educators use when teaching and designing
learning experiences. Abramo and Reynolds (2014) suggest that creative educators would
be responsive, flexible, improvisatory in teaching, are comfortable with ambiguity, and
use fluid and flexible identities in their work with students (p. 38). These creativities are
manifest as educators adapt and respond to learners’ needs and interests, or as educators alter
planned activities to follow the momentum of a particular learning experience. Vernacular
creativity (Burgess, 2006) refers to a person’s ability to engage others in the everyday and
mundane aspects of life in interesting and compelling ways. In media and streaming on
YouTube, vernacular creativity becomes evident as people engage an audience in aspects of
their everyday life and, as Burgess explained, “transform everyday experiences into shared
public culture” (p. 210). Digital placemaking then reflects elements of vernacular creativity
as streams often originate from homes and everyday spaces. Digital placemaking becomes
the process of making an inviting space and the ways streamers use their settings to facilitate
and convey space and place (Halegoua & Polson, 2021). Finally, entrepreneurial creativity
refers to ways that musicians engage their audiences and encourage them to “interact with,
and own” their work (Burnard, 2012, p. 70). For many musicians this might involve the
purchase of physical goods such as clothing or recordings, but in mediated engagements
like those through YouTube, entrepreneurial creativity engages the audience in financially
supporting the musician through either the YouTube platform or other direct means for
financial contributions.
Each of these creativities functions to support the Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams.
Pedagogical creativity shapes the learning experience central to the events. Vernacular
creativity and digital placemaking are evident in how a live stream engages an audience in
the everyday and mundane, and digital placemaking informs the skill used in cultivating
the place and space that is shared with the audience. These aspects reflect the nature of the
relationship between the streamer and the audience and are central to the experience. Fi-
nally, these live streams are part of a broader business and industry. Teaching the ukulele
on YouTube can be a professional occupation. Finding ways to engage an audience in com-
pelling content while also encouraging their financial support is a key to being a successful
YouTuber.

Setting
This study is set within a YouTube channel dedicated to the ukulele. The scope of the
channel, both in content and viewership, is remarkable. As of my writing in August 2021,
the channel included 972 videos viewed – a combined total of more than 34 million times.
Perhaps most remarkable is the channel’s nearly 400,000 subscribers. Subscribers are par-
ticularly telling because they signal an audience seeking prolonged engagement with a
content creator (Burgess & Green, 2018). Like many ukulele tutorial YouTube channels
(E. O’Leary, 2020), this channel includes a largely song-based curriculum focused on North
American popular music. The host is a trained educator and holds an undergraduate degree
in music education, a graduate degree in education, and has worked as a certified music
educator in public schools in the United States. The host is a full-time YouTuber (colloquial
term for a person who makes a living through producing YouTube videos) whose primary
occupation is facilitating this YouTube channel.
The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams began on March 26, 2020, and continued through
July 30th of the same year. Streams took place more or less daily for a total of 94 streams
over 125 days. The streams represented a dramatic change in content for the channel. To
that point, the channel’s focus had been tutorial videos typically less than 15 minutes in
length. Prior videos reflected high production values with substantial editing, clear lighting,
344  Emmett O’Leary
and graphics for chord diagrams, lyrics, and strum patterns. The live stream sessions were
quite different. The average length was 94 minutes, and the general setting was informal.
Instead of graphic overlays, the host used a small whiteboard. The concise scripting of the
tutorial videos was a noted contrast to the improvisatory and interactive nature of the live
streams where the host would frequently share personal anecdotes, stop teaching to respond
to comments in the chat, or comment directly to regular viewers. The live streams attracted
a substantial audience and were viewed an average of 5,800 times, including both live and
replayed views.
Through the Live Streams, participants studied 76 songs. The repertoire was eclectic but
primarily focused on popular music with substantial representation of the classic rock and
pop genres. In addition, the host included music from film soundtracks and featured streams
dedicated to country, gospel, and jazz genres. Each stream typically had a singular song
focus, but it was common for the sessions to begin or end with a review of a song from a
previous session. At the conclusion of each stream, the host would seek feedback about the
session and recommendations for repertoire for future streams, and discuss what resources
the community could use to support their learning such as handouts, visual aids, or song
sheets.

Method
The purpose of this study was to examine the experience of the Quarantine Ukulele Live
Streams, the elements of community, and the creativities exhibited. I used a case study
approach drawing on aspects of cyber-ethnography (Waldron, 2018) and content analysis.
My role as researcher was mainly as a “lurker” (Waldron, 2018, p. 114), where I observed
interactions taking place through the YouTube platform. Because of the mediated nature
of the experience, my participation was non-intrusive (Veblen & Kruse, 2017) and based
entirely on data available publicly through the live stream and archived as live stream replays
on YouTube.
Data generation included video transcripts, live chat transcripts, and field notes as I par-
ticipated in select live stream sessions. I chose a sample of 11 videos dispersed throughout
the 94 days of the live streams to examine in-depth, resulting in 20 hours and 7 minutes
of video. My review included dialog from the host as well as the contents of the live chat.
Additionally, I downloaded aggregate data related to video views, length, and audience
interactions on YouTube (likes, dislikes, and comments) through the YT Tracker Google
Sheets plugin.
For data analysis, I first coded data descriptively (Saldaña, 2021) and generated initial
themes. I then applied the theoretical framework around the concepts of community,
media, and creativity and annotated themes with relevant applications in each area. Fi-
nally, I produced a concept map of each theme (Wheeldon & Ahlberg, 2014) using a
digital mind mapping program and drew connections to common ideas within and across
sections.

Findings
Findings are presented through the broad themes of community, pedagogy, and making
a creative space. The final theme includes sub-themes of digital placemaking, vernacular
creativity, and hybrid commercial space. I explored findings through the data generated and
the theoretical framework, with relevant elements from community music, media studies,
and creativities integrated.
 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams  345
Community
The scope of the Quarantine Ukulele Live Stream community was global. The host often
asked participants to share their locations, and responses indicated viewers were partici-
pating from around the world, including North America, Europe, India, Indonesia, and
Australia. Because the live streams took place through the YouTube platform, and YouTube
is available throughout the world, the streams had an element of “spreadability” ( Jenkins,
Ford, & Green, 2013), which as Waldron (2018) explained means, “the more spreadable the
application, the larger the network can grow” (p. 66). Unlike other asynchronous online
communities where participants engage at times of their choosing, temporality and time
zones were a limiting factor to participation. Because the streams occurred at a specific time
each day, viewers in different parts of the world frequently shared that they would need to
log off to go to sleep or play quietly so as not to wake others in their home. There was an
established nucleus of regular attendees who often posted in the chat. As I reviewed the
videos, I expected certain participants to be present and noticed when they were absent.
The live streams focused on community engagement in response to a global crisis. For
example, in one of the earliest live streams, a viewer posted, “Thank you for the jam, great
for anxiety.” This led the host to respond with a discussion of the community and the pur-
pose of the streams:

We’re doing this because so many of us are in quarantine and we want to have that
bright, happy moment in the day where we’re not so stressed out and play the ukulele.
It’s a really nice community. I love that I can read your comments live; I love that you
guys are here and improve your playing, to share in the chat, and to remember your
voice and your instrument and the things you are grateful for.

The live streams represented a respite from the pandemic and spoke to dispositional bene-
fits of making music and playing the ukulele. Community is central to these feelings. That
there is an opportunity to share music with others, participate in the chat, and engage at a
place and time each day offered benefits that playing the ukulele alone would lack. Inter-
estingly, the pandemic was discussed specifically during the initial live streams but faded as
events continued. There were undoubtedly reminders of the global crisis, but as the com-
munity became more accustomed to interacting with one another, the focus became music,
personal anecdotes, and the ukulele.
The live streams represented a creative and safe space for people to come each day. While
some elements of community evolved organically, the host worked with a team of moder-
ators to instill several aspects explicitly. Moderators played a vital role in the community.
Moderators are standard features of live stream channels and are most often volunteers that
have been active members of the specific online community (Taylor, 2018). Moderators’
primary function is to monitor community interactions in the chat. For the Quarantine
Ukulele Live Streams, the host explained the moderators’ function in response to a ques-
tion in the chat: “Moderators are someone [sic] who helps me to make sure the chat stays
friendly. They have the power to remove someone if someone says something that might
make others uncomfortable.” While the moderators were successful in making the chat
a comfortable place during the ukulele streams, their role expanded beyond monitoring.
They grew into being a valuable supplemental resource for users and added value to what
the host was teaching on screen.
Moderators offered support to viewers throughout the broadcasts. I found three notable
examples of how moderators enriched the live stream and offered elements of distributed
knowledge ( J. O’Leary, 2020) that added to what the host provided in the video. First,
346  Emmett O’Leary
moderators transcribed directions, chord changes, and strum patterns that the host ex-
plained verbally. Moderators would repost the chord changes as needed and, as the video
continued, would help viewers newly joining the stream who missed the initial instruction.
Second, they connected viewers with resources. For example, it was common for videos to
include a discussion of ukuleles and ukulele equipment. During one stream, the host briefly
mentioned how much they liked a particular ukulele and showed some of the instrument’s
features. During the discussion, moderators linked to a video review the host had made and
elaborated on the host’s description. Third, the host often relied on moderators to offer ped-
agogical support. For example, in response to a viewer question on strumming technique,
the host highlighted one of the moderators as having a particular expertise in that area and
prompted the moderator to offer ideas in the chat.

Pedagogy
This community was centered around the host’s pedagogy and ability to create engaging
and creative lessons. Bartleet and Higgins (2018) explained that community music leaders
“possess leadership, processual, and social skills to guide the group on a musical journey”
(p. 9), and that was evident throughout the live streams. The host’s grasp of the medium was
clear and lessons took place in an orderly and effective sequence. Learning to play a song
was the educational goal for each live stream and the host exhibited pedagogical creativity
throughout to create a responsive and creative pedagogical space. Pedagogical creativity,
according to Abramo and Reynolds (2014), involves an educator’s use of “creative strat-
egies when instructing and designing curricula, even when creativity is not the explicit
topic of the lesson” (p. 38). Borrowing from Abramo and Reynold’s pedagogical creativity
framework, I suggest the host’s development of a responsive curriculum was central to the
learning environment created.
Responsiveness can be manifest in several ways, including flexibility in instructional
goals and attentiveness to students’ needs (Abramo & Reynolds, 2014, p. 39). The host
was responsive in co-creating the curriculum and involved viewers explicitly in choos-
ing songs to learn and skills to develop. Viewer feedback and requests were a part of
every stream. The host would solicit song suggestions and acknowledge as many responses
as possible, including frequently encouraging people to repost if their recommendations
were not acknowledged. The host was careful to never criticize a song recommendation
and usually built consensus around selections by repeating the song title, sharing thoughts
about the song related to ukulele performing challenges, and asking viewers to share their
opinions about a selection in the chat. The host sought responses and feedback on teaching
techniques as well. For example, one lesson included a demonstration of how to figure
out the harmonic rhythm of songs by ear. The host modeled by playing the song on the
ukulele, strumming the chords, and then transcribing the changes on the whiteboard.
Throughout, the audience was involved and the host frequently asked if the demonstration
was valuable.
The pedagogical responsiveness included performing techniques as well. The host often
showed strum patterns and chord fingerings in complex and simplified forms. For exam-
ple, in one stream, the host illustrated both an open fingering and a barred fingering for
the D7 chord and encouraged advanced players to try the other voicing as a challenge. In
some other cases, strum patterns were simplified either by the host or through moderator
recommendations in the chat, often in response to viewer’s expressions of frustration. The
continued focus on supporting players of different playing abilities and welcoming all was
consistent with pedagogical creativity and broader skills in differentiation in music teaching
(Bernard & Cayari, 2020).
 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams  347
Making a Creative Space
The streams acted as a multi-faceted place. In the following section, I discuss elements of
placemaking, particularly within the context of a networked broadcast, the creativity in-
volved in making the everyday and mundane parts of life compelling, and how YouTube as
a hybrid commercial space shaped the place of the live streams.

Digital Placemaking
The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams became a place where people congregated and made
music. The idea of online platforms and communities as places is not new, and the temporal
element of live streams added an additional layer. Viewers were meeting at a time and place.
While YouTube functioned as a medium for interaction, the place felt more like the host’s
home from which the streams were broadcast. The host invited viewers into the space each
day through the stream as a form of digital placemaking where “digital media [is used] to
create a sense of place for oneself and/or others” (Halegoua & Polson, 2021, p. 574).
The home setting for the streams was both musical and personal. In a separate study ex-
amining streaming settings, Ruberg and Lark (2021) found that musicians often “perform
domestic space in ways that are meant to be intimate—an invitation into the streamer’s per-
sonal artistic space” (p. 686), and intimacy was evident throughout the ukulele live streams.
The place was a frequent topic of discussion. Starting initially in the host’s dining room, the
setting shifted to a home office featuring many of the accoutrements one would expect in a
music teacher’s studio. Viewers saw ukuleles hung on the wall, a computer partially visible
in the background, and the host taught in front of a digital piano with a small whiteboard
above it. The host included personal items in frame including pictures and other decora-
tions, sometimes changing them between streams as an “easter egg” (a hidden feature or
bonus for viewers). For example, in one stream the host added drink coasters with personal
pictures and waited to see if the audience noticed the pictures when the host would take a
drink. The community coalesced around the host’s teaching partly because they developed
a familiarity and visited the host’s home each day.

Vernacular Creativity
The live streams had an informal and improvisational atmosphere. While the focus of the
live streams was ukulele instruction, the host frequently broke from the lesson to discuss
questions in the chat or to share personal stories. The host did so in ways that demonstrated
vernacular creativity (Burgess, 2006), a creativity that celebrates the mundane and everyday
communicative practices such as storytelling or even casual chat (Burgess & Green, 2018).
For example, at the beginning of one live stream, the host brought in an apple that was
half golden and half red in color to discuss. A vibrant discussion ensued in the chat ranging
from discussions of types of apples to other rare fruits people had encountered. Viewers also
opined in the chat with varieties of apple emoji and other fruits. The apple is an example of
a regular phenomenon where the host engaged in a range of everyday topics such as cloth-
ing choices, travel, cooking, and other hobbies. The host’s ability to engage the community
reflected a social skill and a creativity that added to the engagement with the content and
added a social and familiar element to the streams.

Hybrid Commercial Space

YouTube is a hybrid commercial space (Arthurs et al., 2018; Burgess & Green, 2018),
and the capital associated with success on YouTube was ever-present within the streams.
348  Emmett O’Leary
The money earned through YouTube is central to the host’s livelihood. Being a successful
YouTuber requires content creators to make engaging content for their established audi-
ence, and also find ways to reach new potential viewers. To this point, the host commented
in one of the later live streams: “Go ahead and hit that like button if you haven’t already.
That helps YouTube recommend the video, and that helps me grow the channel and con-
tinue having this as a job.” Part of the job in the live streams became using entrepreneurial
creativity to encourage viewers to support the channel in ways that YouTube rewards. This
became a dominant element of the community throughout the live streams.
The financial benefits of “likes” are indirect. A video with more likes might be recom-
mended to more viewers, who would then view more advertising on the video, ultimately
leading to more revenue from YouTube to the host. In addition to growing the audience,
the host publicized more direct ways to offer financial support. For example, each video
description included links to sites where they could donate to the host or to engage with
the host on Patreon, an internet platform where viewers can support artists in an ongoing
“subscription-style payment model” (Patreon, n.d.). While some viewers commented in
the chat that they were new patrons (a term for a subscriber to a Patreon account) or that
they had just sent in a donation, a revenue source available only to live streams became the
most pervasive and celebrated tool, the “Super Chat” (YouTube Creator Academy, n.d.).
Super chats are comments that are “pinned and highlighted in your live stream” and
remain visible for a duration “depending on the monetary amount” (YouTube, n.d.). As
the host led streams, viewers would post a super chat that would appear as a bright-colored
text field highlighting the donation amount. The super chat would then display in a smaller
form at the top of the window before eventually fading away. The amount of the super chat
donation determined how long it would be pinned so a $20 donation would remain visible
longer than a $5 donation. All super chats were celebrated by the community. The host
made a point to encourage and thank any super chats and established a way for the broader
community to recognize the contributor. For example, if a user posted a super chat with
a red background (the person posting can select the color), they would be thanked by the
community in the chat with heart emojis in a matching hue. In addition, the host thanked
each super chat poster personally in real time or close to it and would often remind the
community to show their appreciation. As a result, the super chat celebrations became a
common aspect of the chat and some users became known as regular super chat posters. For
example, in one video, a super chat contributor was called “the sugar momma of the chat,”
to which the contributor responded with an additional super chat donation.

Discussion
The purpose of this study was to examine the Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams, the com-
munity that developed, and the creativities evident in their creation. These sessions repre-
sent a unique example of community music both in that they were “networked broadcasts”
(Taylor, 2018) and in that they were created in response to a global crisis. Still, the expe-
rienced contained many of the same characteristics common in other community ukulele
experiences. The positive dispositions and feelings found in prior ukulele studies (Giebel-
hausen & Kruse, 2018; Kruse, 2013; Reese, 2019; Thibeault & Evoy, 2011) were evident
throughout, and the pedagogy and structure of the streams were consistent with in-person
events.
The networked element of this community experience is notable. Participants were not
visible to one another, and their sole means to communicate was through the chat. How-
ever, a participatory ethic permeated the interactions. Participatory experiences should
invite participation (Turino, 2008), and throughout the live streams, both the host and
 The Quarantine Ukulele Live Streams  349
moderators worked to welcome new group members, encourage participation, and offered
differentiation strategies for different skills to allow people to remain engaged. The overall
feeling of hospitality (Higgins, 2012) was undeniable and intentional. They worked overtly
to cultivate a welcoming environment, and had to do so through the means made available
by the platform. As more musical communities either function online, or include online
components, it is important to examine how the platforms facilitate and shape interactions.
For example, in this volume there are examples of musical engagements taking place either
partly or completely through social media platforms in Cayari’s chapter on online video
game musicians, and Gunasekara, Borwn, and Wise’s chapter on Instagram as a creative
tool. The idea of “wider community” now can be thought of as being global, mediated,
and platform-based.
YouTube’s function as a hybrid commercial space (Burgess & Green, 2018) was clear
throughout the streams. Anyone could view the streams for free, but there were ways
they could support the host either through the capital of YouTube (likes, views, channel
subscriptions) or through monetary donations as super chats or other means. The support
did not occur simply through the altruism of the community. The host cultivated support
explicitly. Baym (2018), who studied professional musicians’ interactions with fans through
social media, noted that engaging with an audience requires “relational, communicative,
self-presentation, entrepreneurial, and technological skills that music work had not previ-
ously demanded” (p. 11). It required the host to define roles with the audience both as the
leader of the group and as a person who taught through the platform for a living.
The nature of the space may have contributed to the support as well. The streams were
home broadcasts, and the host was inviting us into an otherwise private space (Ruberg &
Lark, 2021). It was more intimate, and the production quality was basic. This led to feel-
ings of intimacy and closeness and matched the context of everyone staying home during
quarantine. Miller (2012), in a study of music tutorial videos on YouTube, noted that ama-
teur content, or at least content that lacked characteristics of professional-level production,
yielded more “expressions of gratitude” (p. 212), and the audience may have responded sim-
ilarly here. Streams were not coming from a professional studio. The audience was not daz-
zled by fancy graphics or video overlays. The host reminded everyone that they were using
just a smartphone or iPad. When viewers chose to contribute money, they did so knowing
that they supported the teacher and the event, not necessarily the technology or production.
The streams were filled with creativities. The vernacular creativity (Burgess, 2006) of
making everyday activities compelling, the pedagogical creativity (Abramo & Reynolds,
2014) of being responsive, the participatory and vernacular creativities of engaging with
the audience (Burnard, 2012), and entrepreneurial creativity to galvanize financial support.
Each creativity was essential to the success of the endeavor. Without vernacular creativity,
the informal and casual environment would have been lacking. Pedagogical creativity was
vital to create a curriculum that was engaging and responsive to the group’s musical inter-
ests. Participatory and vernacular creativity helped the host engage meaningfully with the
fans, and entrepreneurial creativity made it possible to gather financial support from the
audience in ways that respected the space and mission of the events.
Finally, I am reminded of Waldron’s (2018) explanation that YouTube can act as a
“thing or place” (p. 120). The distinction is meaningful, particularly in the context of the
COVID-19 pandemic, where health officials and governments asked so many (or required
in many locations) to stay home. YouTube was the platform that made the live streams a
place people could go. According to Stauffer (2012), “place is a dynamic and fluid human
phenomenon related to qualities of time, space, and experience. Spaces become places,
rather than locations, and take on meaning and socio-cultural significance through our
experiences, interactions, and relationships over time” (p. 448). The live streams became a
350  Emmett O’Leary
valued musical place for a community of ukulele enthusiasts. As the host articulated in the
final comments of the final stream:

You guys! We did it! Oh my goodness. We did so many live streams. So many songs. So
many memories. I loved this experience. I felt like I grew as a musician. Thank you to
the moderators who made this experience enjoyable for all of us. I was able to just teach
and get to know you… Thank you for all the new friendships I have made.

Musical learning took place, friendships were made, and a community was established
through the live streams. They represented a meaningful place during a challenging time.

Questions for Consideration

1 In your interactions with YouTube, do you view it more as a thing you use for enter-
tainment and other purposes, or a place you visit? How might the nature of the plat-
form, type of activity, and interactions with others contribute to feelings of place? How
might digital placemaking and vernacular creativity play a role?
2 How might musical communities in general adapt to the possibilities and challenges of
online interactions? What is gained and what is lost in those experiences?
3 YouTube functions as a hybrid commercial space. What are the implications of music
educators teaching through YouTube actively encouraging learners to financially sup-
port, like, subscribe, and share their work? Does a YouTuber’s entrepreneurial creativ-
ity take away from the pedagogical experience?
4 In a world where in-person community music is no longer constrained by a pandemic,
how might people’s participation in online communities like the Quarantine Ukulele
Live Streams change their expectations for musical experiences?
5 What from the host’s pedagogical skills and creativity resonated with you most? Might
they be applicable in an in-person teaching context as well?

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30 Activating and Developing Free
Improvisational Creativities in
Higher Education
Contesting Authority, Exploring
Creativities, Stimulating Dialogue
Chris Atton, Matthew Cowan, Harry Docherty, Kaelin Farnish,
Zack Moir, and Euan Pattie

Introduction
This chapter is an exploration of the authors’ experiences of forming, and working as, a free
improvisation group called ‘Crouch’. Crouch comprises students and staff from the music
department of Edinburgh Napier University (UK) who came together to make music in
an informal extracurricular setting, having been prompted to do so by a shared interest in
freely improvised music. The group formed in early 2019 after authors Atton and Moir had
given a lecture/workshop on free improvisation for a module (part of the undergraduate
music curriculum at Edinburgh Napier University, Scotland) which primarily focused on
‘jazz’. Crouch then met on a weekly basis during term time to improvise together. During
our sessions we improvised freely, sometimes without stimulus, sometimes using concep-
tual/narrative provocations, or single-word inspirations. We sometimes played as a full
group, and sometimes in smaller sub-groups. We had no leader, no fixed instrumentation,
no ‘rules’, and no agenda. The organization of the group was as free and fluid as the music
that we made together.
It would be disingenuous to ignore the fact that there were some inevitable contra-
dictions, interpersonal relationships, and institutional implications that clearly had some
bearing on our work. For example, Atton and Moir are employed as academics at Edin-
burgh Napier University but the rest of the authors were/are students at the institution
who have been taught and supervised by staff members. Additionally, our sessions took
place in practice rooms and studios at the university campus which are, again, associated
with formal learning, teaching, and assessment for students and staff alike. Thus, the no-
tion of being ‘free’ in our improvisational creativity, and within the musical and social
interactions of the members, was subject to, and colored by these considerations. Although
this was not problematic, failure to acknowledge these relational realities would be naïve,
at best, or worse – dishonest. To reflect on our collective experience, the authors engaged
in a collaborative autoethnographic study – the findings of which form the basis of this
chapter.
In considering our work in this group, and how our activities, behaviors, and values
could be beneficial for other forms of music education, we have been influenced by a plu-
ralistic conception of ‘creativities’, rather than creativity in the singular (Burnard, 2012;
Merker, 2006). Burnard (2012) notes that:

for most of us, the concept [musical creativity] embodies a basic classification corre-
sponding to an individualistic notion rather than a sense of multiple possibilities
(p. 7)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-35
 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities  353
We are, through collaborating and discussing our work in this group, and linking it to a
critique of some normative music education practices, considering the ‘…spectrum of possi-
ble practices that are at the centre of a multiplicity of practices’ (ibid.). In our work we have
been, and continue to be, engaged in a rich variety of improvisational creativities. Indeed,
the members of the group have varying conception of the site, nature, significance of, and
potential barriers to, such creativities. Not only is our conception of creativity pluralistic,
but our collective interpretation of what constitutes creativity, how it is enacted, and how
it can/should be appraised is multifarious in nature. Not only can we describe the music-
making that we engage in as improvisational creativity, but the way in which we relate to
each other, our collaborative autoethnographic research, the writing of this chapter and
the co-creation of meaning therein, and the ways in which we conceive of and collectively
discuss our work as having educational impacts are all examples of improvisational creativ-
ities. Failure to acknowledge such multiplicity, subjectivity, and complexity would not only
be antithetical to our endeavor, but would fail to acknowledge some of the truly valuable
phenomena experienced in our artistic and scholarly activities. Based on our valuable ex-
perience of working together in this way, we propose that engagement with freely impro-
vised music, within higher education, provides an opportunity to engage in and develop
a personalized liberatory praxis that allows for and values the legitimate experience of the
multiple possibilities that this approach to musicking and the social, cultural, and interper-
sonal environments it can facilitate.

Method
Collaborative autoethnography (CAE) is a qualitative method which allows a group of
people to reflect on self-narrative, collaboratively. This may seem contradictory, and Chang
et al. (2016) acknowledge that ‘…the notion of collaboration requiring group interaction
seems directly at odds with the study of the self ’ (p. 17). In the context of our work,
however, it is important to note that we are keenly interested in the experiences of the
group members, thus exploring lived experience within the social context of the group
was important to us. It would have been all too easy, yet wholly at odds with the ethos
and structure of the group, for the two academics in the team to have conducted an eth-
nographic study with our students as the research participants. Doing so, however, would
have effectively reinstated the us/them dichotomy that we were keen to dismantle in our
musical interactions. Furthermore, it would have failed to meaningfully explore the expe-
rience of working alongside each other in the ways in which we did due to the dominance
of some perspectives. Similarly, any one of us could have written this chapter individually,
presenting individual autoethnographic findings. Again, however, this would have only
provided one perspective. Although we would not suggest that either approach would have
been ‘useless’ or fundamentally ‘wrong’, the fact remains that neither would have allowed
for the weaving of multiple voices, different perspectives, and complexities of interpersonal
experience that our CAE approach did.
Aptly, in the context of a chapter about the experiences of a group of musicians, we can
draw on the analogy offered by Chang et al. (2016), in which they note that:

AE [autoethnography] is to a solo performance as CAE is to an ensemble. While the

combination of instruments creates a unique musical piece, the success of the compo-
sition is dependent on the authentic and unique contribution of each instrument. (24)

Using this method allowed us to engage simultaneously in self-reflection and group anal-
ysis. As each of the authors is a researcher-participant, the traditional power structures at
354  Chris Atton et al.
play in the normative ‘researchers vs. participants’ paradigm are largely negated. Again,
drawing on Chang et al. (2016), we note that even though it could be said that there
are ‘pre-existing power differentials’ (26) within our group, these are diminished con-
siderably through the process of full collaboration throughout the research and writing
process.
Our process began with each team member engaging in individual data collection, by
writing reflectively on their own personal experience, thus producing self-reflective and self-­
analytic data on the topic of their experiences of being involved in the ensemble. This phase
was vital to the research as this allowed for individual memories, experiences, and beliefs to be
collected and shared without authors feeling as if they had to conform to the group narrative
from the outset. This data was shared in an online document open to all authors so the indi-
vidual data could be read and absorbed by the rest of the team. Inevitably, team engagement
with this data led to the initial phase of data analysis, in which we made sense of the writing of
the other team members. The formal data analysis process involved us working collaboratively
to conduct a thematic analysis of the individual self-reflective and self-analytic data. Wolcott
(1994) suggests that data analysis involves, ‘the identification of essential features and the sys-
tematic description of the interrelationships among them’ (p. 12) and our collaborative process
aligns well with this description. As a team, we worked to identify emergent themes and dis-
tilled them into the thematic areas presented below and chose a ‘descriptive-realistic writing’
approach in which authors attempted a ‘…detailed and controlled description of experiences
documented through autoethnographic research’ (Chang, 2013, p. 125).
Rather than simply present the thematic areas that we have, collectively, derived from
our data as mere ‘findings’ to be set forth, this chapter draws on these themes as the basis
of our discussion. Our collaborative autoethnography (set forth below) can be seen as a
co-authored creative artifact that serves as a textual trace of our collaborative creative ex-
perience.1 In presenting this work, we consider how our experiences of free improvisation
within higher education music study can be useful in considering the importance of fore-
grounding improvisational creativities within music education. To explore these thematic
areas we draw on the reflections of individual authors and scholarly literature in order to
present a contextualized, critical, and hopefully useful, critique of our experiences of work-
ing together as a free improvisation group.

Authority and Hierarchy in Musical Ensembles and Performances

The specific experiences of hierarchy and authority were unique to each group member.
However, our experience was connected by an initial awareness of the power hierarchies
present, followed by their removal or gradual disappearance.
Recalling his experience, Zack described that ‘as a member of staff’ he ‘had the poten-
tial to have more influence than others or even be seen as a de facto “authority”’ and that
his voice could be understood as ‘the voice of the “educator”’. Chris was also very aware
of the potential for his experience to cast him in the role of ‘expert’ within the group.
He notes:

Despite having over thirty years’ experience as a free improviser (as well as writing
about and researching the subject as a journalist and an academic), when we set up the
improvising group at the university I had never attempted to teach or instruct others
in the techniques and philosophies of free improvisation. … I was wary of coming into
this particular musical situation as an expert, to impart my knowledge and to direct
(however creatively) the other musicians.
 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities  355
Awareness of Zack and Chris’ ‘educator’ status was shared among the whole group, but
whereas it seems Zack was consciously attempting to disregard such ideas, the students
were looking for more gestural confirmation that the dynamic was different from previous
­‘student-teacher’ experiences (such as formal classes, for example). Matthew describes the
necessity ‘for Zack and Chris to state their intent at the beginning’ of the project, establish-
ing the aims and dynamics of the project. Without such confirmation, Matthew suggested
that the students may have ‘harboured apprehension’ and would have wondered ‘Am I
crossing a line?’ in certain musical and/or interpersonal situations.
Euan described a similar experience of gestural confirmation that the relationship was
devoid of any ‘student-teacher’ dynamics. Describing a moment of improvisation between
Chris and himself, Euan notes that both himself and Chris:

…played musician to musician, not lecturer to student, as we intently listened and re-
sponded to one another … the idea of mutual respect was cemented in my mind when
after the piece Chris came over and shook my hand.

Euan and Matthew suggest that there was a verbal or gestural confirmation that students
and lecturers ‘played on an equal footing’, and after these points, the potential presence of
hierarchies was never a concern to the students, thus contributing to an environment in
which free improvisational creativities could flourish. As an example, Harry recounts a
performance with Zack ‘a clear hierarchy of control was inadvertently created’, in which
Zack’s input on saxophone determined the material that Harry could then manipulate with
his sampler/synthesizer. Harry noted that this situation ‘had created a dialogic relationship
of improvisation between the “educator” and “learner”’ where both were co-dependent
on each other to improvise, thus effectively neutralizing the potentially negative impact of
any perceived hierarchy. Both Harry and Euan’s experiences showcase moments of improv-
isation that directly or metaphorically exemplified non-hierarchical relationships between
educators and students.
The environment that facilitated such experiences between students and teachers may
be attributed to the free-improvisatory music that was being played. As Kanellopoulos
(2011) suggests, improvisation’s ‘local, socially situated processes through which it renders
itself meaningful’ is in direct contradiction to the ‘monological voice of authority’ found in
much music education. The social dynamics required for meaningful group improvisations
to exist opposes typical dichotomous educator/pupil pedagogy and requires equal footing
from all participants for it to take place meaningfully. The effect that free-improvisation
experiences can have on the higher educational experience is explored in the following
section.

Education and Discipline

This thematic area comprises two sub-themes. First, we discuss the impact that this work
had on group members regarding their freedom to explore what is meant by ‘music’ on
their own terms, un-hampered by any stylistic/idiomatic boundaries of their degree-­focus.2
Second, we consider that many of our experiences were meaningful and instructive, and
that our collective, collaborative, dialogic approach to our musicking could serve as a useful
model for engaging and initiating creativities in other areas of music education. Addition-
ally, it has become clear that our valuable experiences in this group have impacted on the
pedagogical approaches of some members, in the various educational contexts in which
they work.
356  Chris Atton et al.
Freedom to explore what it means to make music
Euan clearly noted the impact that the opportunity to improvise freely had on his concep-
tion of what constituted ‘music’, and ‘improvisation. He notes that, prior to studying a jazz
module as part of his undergraduate programme, he:

…had never been exposed as a listener to such free and experimental improvisation,
which often did not employ the rhythmic and harmonic structures found in most forms
of popular music. For me, this was liberating, and ignited a sense that anything could be
music, not just the sounds I had been traditionally taught that instruments should make.
This resulted in a deeper exploration into the timbres available from my instrument,
the drum set, and from traditionally ‘non-musical’ objects.

Matthew, who also studied on the jazz module, also noted that his experiences in this group:

…created this kind of desire to exhaustively explore the possibilities of one object or
instrument. I felt this way with my approach to guitar-playing … I tried to limit my use
of pedals to focus almost entirely on exploring the sounds of the guitar, beyond simply
playing fretted notes. I don’t know if this was conscious or not but it served as a way
to put some sort of restriction/structure onto my choices. Without these restrictions
I could possibly have become overwhelmed with choices of sound … the free improv
environment could have been too free.

Both Euan and Matthew are suggesting that the notion of exploring sound was important
to them and instructive in their developments as musicians. This is a theme that has been
discussed many times among the members of this group and some members feel a degree
of frustration that such activities and approaches to music-making remain ‘fringe’ in their
musical experience. Euan, again, questions why the more ‘traditional’ form of improvising
was taught before the freer form. He asks:

Is it the case that students must ‘cut their teeth’ through studying the traditional form
first, in order to gain the authority and permission to proceed to the latter?

He continues, stating that:

Although the approaches employed in Crouch do not require the same harmonic and
rhythmic awareness, I would say they require a huge sense of musical maturity and awareness
when making individual decisions in a group. Furthermore, I would argue these approaches
could be taught without the prerequisite experience in traditional jazz improvisation, which
may offer students who have no interest in traditional forms of jazz the chance to improvise
at a high level. Inversely, I would argue being well experienced in traditional improvisation
would not necessarily equip a player for improvising in the freer setting.

Kaelin noted, similarly, that ‘free improvisation does not necessarily require great musical
skill and training, but rather more skill in communication and empathy’.
Considering improvisation as an educational process, Campbell (2009) notes that:

Running alongside conceptualizations of “improvising to learn music” and “learning

to improvise music,” there is a third phenomenon of “improvising music to learn”.
Through the process of making music up, people learn whatever can be learned of self
 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities  357
and others and the world beyond music … developing emotionally, socially, and intel-
lectually and of responding and reacting to experiences and environments.
(p. 120)

There is unanimous agreement within our group that our experiences chime with the
Campbell’s ‘third phenomenon’ in that our work together was not only meaningful in
musical terms, but also educative and developmental in ways that could be considered
­‘extra-musical’. We learned about ourselves and others within the context of the group. We
encountered the realities of interpersonal and institutional hierarchies and found ways to
neutralize, dismantle, and even work within such structures. We performed at conferences,
engaged in tests of cutting-edge real-time interactive networked music technologies, and
we made an album together. Additionally, we embarked on the writing of this very chapter.
Collective musicking and improvisational creativities were at the heart of our endeavor, but
we were free to engage musically, and explore the ‘multiple possibilities’ (Burnard, 2012)
of our situation freely as a group of musicians and scholars with an interest in this approach
to music-making. As Zack notes, ever aware of the need – as one of the academics – to be
mindful of his position of relative power within this group:

…having spent time saying, ‘this isn’t education!’ and ‘don’t make this about work!’ etc.,
as we developed a respectful egalitarian approach to working and improvising together,
I became more and more convinced that this approach was one that could and should be
adopted as a basis for many other areas of music education. I firmly believe that improv-
isation, or an approach to popular music education based on improvisatory practices and
philosophies could be the foundation of a liberatory praxis that could benefit the field
massively. Here, I am using the term praxis in the Freirian sense, specifically to mean ‘re-
flection and action directed at the structures to be transformed’ (Freire, 1970: 126) as I be-
lieve that improvisation and improvisatory thinking within music education are means by
which we can enhance, challenge, rethink, or disrupt, normative pedagogic approaches
within and around popular music education that could be considered as oppressive.

For Zack, improvisation can be seen as a practice or approach to popular music education
which can facilitate critical consciousness (Freire, 2021) and help to enable the liberation of
learners and teachers alike, by resisting those forces in the formal music education that have
the potential to dehumanize us by making us operate within stylistic pigeonholes, adhere
to specific historically informed and externally constructed value systems, and adopt ways
of being as humans/musicians that may not align with our conceptions of musicianship,
creativity, or collaboration. Chris stated, similarly:

I was conscious that the educational value of working in free improvisation might
well lie in its problematising of the role of teacher (if not its rejection), and to consider
teachers as ‘resource organizers and fellow explorers rather than “masters” or “gurus”’.
(Association of Improvising Musicians, 1983: 6)

It could be argued that music is not equally accessible to all who want to engage with it due
to preconceptions surrounding notions of ability, aptitude, ‘talent’, and professionalism, for
example. On this topic, Kaelin notes:

Free improvisation can be used as a tool to help people overcome barriers – there is
no lower limit on instrumental talent or music theory education, just a willingness to
listen, communicate and learn about oneself is enough.
358  Chris Atton et al.
The notion of improvisation as a means of, and vehicle for, exploration, development, and
learning was also considered by Matthew and Kaelin who each considered the impact on
their roles as music educators. Matthew reflects:

My approach as a teacher has been influenced by my experience in Crouch, most strongly

by the dialogic, open-minded environment that we created. Although we did not for-
mally set out guidelines on how we wanted to treat each other and no one kept rules or
regulated our behaviour, we managed to create a dialogic and inclusive environment. I
have had the chance to lead ensemble groups of secondary school musicians (16–18 year-
olds) and I have consciously tried to exemplify to these students, through my language
and general reception to their ideas, what a positive creative environment is like.

Kaelin also noticed an impact on their practice as an educator:

This project fed into my practice as a music teacher, giving my students more oppor-
tunities to explore their instruments … I also let go of some expectations I had on my
students regarding perfection and progress, allowing one student, in particular, more
time in a lesson to freely improvise rather than progress through grades (e.g. ABRSM
syllabi) in a ‘typical’ fashion, as right now she has conveyed she needs to be supported
in her experimentation.

Agency and Dialogue

In group musicking contexts, whether it be performance, improvisation, or discussion for
example, a facilitator is often necessary to act if the rest of the group are hesitant to share
their ideas. This could involve someone suggesting ideas and proposing an agenda, for ex-
ample, to which people may act passively toward. With regard to Crouch, there is equal
input and shared agency, eliminating the need for a facilitator figure within the group. In
some cases, certain people may take more of a lead over others, but this varies constantly
and we all value each other’s input equally. However, it must be noted that by the time
we started improvising together we were confident as students and musicians, and gen-
erally more comfortable in each other’s company. As has been mentioned previously, we
came into performing as a group after playing together in classes which facilitated free
­improvisation – the timing of this is important as most of the authors were in the third year
of undergraduate study so there was a certain degree of musical maturity and musicianship
skills that allowed us all to listen and respect each other in our interactions. Invariably, our
experience and mutual respect proved fruitful, and we often met and played without much
in the way of a ‘plan’ – largely because this was often unnecessary due to the creative envi-
ronment that we created. Chris notes:

In all of my encounters with other musicians, we had simply started to play, with no
discussion. To ‘simply’ start to play, though, is to obscure histories of practice and
the development of musical and social relationships between players. Often musicians
might refer to ‘playing from silence’, which explains little about preparation and ap-
proaches to playing. Eddie Prévost has argued that ‘starting from silence does not there-
fore mean starting from “nothing”, but indicates a desired condition of attention that
may be necessary to create a successful improvisation’ (Prévost, 1984: 12). For him, a
successful performance is one that ‘depends on acute aural awareness – the listening for
every tone, rhythm and nuance’.
(ibid.)
 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities  359
In addition to our approach of ‘just start playing’, we often used prompts, which allowed
us to have some sense of shared direction in our improvisation, each of us having our own
interpretation of a title, image, or setting. This was mutually accepted within the group,
and we never felt we had to justify the decisions we made separately or as dialogue. The
only time we would rely on gestures or signals was when we devised specific ‘conducting’
prompts, which often meant one person conducting the others. Using methods such as
these were often seen more as smaller, fun experiments than the longer improvisational
strategies based on textual, emotional, or conceptual prompts.
Returning to the notion of musical background, each of us has different interests and
musical preferences generally, yet we each bring our own ‘voice’ to the group improvisation
in a mindful and respectful way. As Burnard (2012) reminds us, the types of improvisational
creativities that we were engaged in throughout this project ‘…are always informed by the
musician’s habitus’ (p. 151). This obviously includes our own educational and experiential
learning in which we have developed ideas about when to bring our voices to the fore, or
when knowing when not to ‘say’ anything and let others ‘speak’. Individually the members
of the group have all developed an understanding of valuing other people’s contributions
and developed the confidence which frees us from inhibitions and obstacles that may have
prevented us from making ‘strange’, ‘dissonant’ sounds through otherwise conventional
social conditioning of music theory.
Saint-Germier and Canonne (2020) describe factors that may influence smooth coordi-
nation between performers in collective free improvisation contexts in which new types/
forms of improvisational creativity originated. Two of these, specifically shared mental
models, and shared aesthetic identity, clearly relate to our work in this group. ‘Mental
models’, in this instance, pertain to collective listening habits in ongoing musical situations.
These listening habits were identified by Savouret (2010) as microphonic (paying close at-
tention to the acoustical qualities of the sounds themselves), mesophonic (paying attention
to the musical shapes created by the performers), or macrophonic (paying attention to the
aesthetic or cultural resonances of the performers’ outputs). In relation to the importance of
listening as an agent within the collaborative creative environment, Euan explains:

Through playing with Crouch, I learned to listen to others more intently and to respect
the quietest of moments, such as when the collective sound was so soft one could hear
a pin drop. In these situations, any conscious decision to play (even at a low volume)
was amplified in terms of impact. Furthermore, I loved moments when a ‘composition’
may be finished, but any one individual would not know until the collective group
had made that decision together … The tension of these moments, when I used all my
listening capabilities to figure out the intentions of my fellow players, was exhilarating.
In this way, I would argue that the way we play is centered around conversation and
although we each use extremely varied voices (sometimes literally), in most cases we are
able to reach a shared consensus.

Creativity, Expression, and Purpose of Collaboration

This project brought together individuals with different views about the notion of music as
a form of expression. Some members like Kaelin, for example, see music as being a vehicle
for personal/emotional expression, whereas others such as Chris and Zack, for example, do
not. Kaelin shared:

Personally, all my music making is influenced by emotion, and the music I had played
before was limited emotionally by my range of expression. Creating music angrily was
360  Chris Atton et al.
not something I had explored before, and it allowed me to channel these emotions
which overall improved my mental health.

Due to these different perspectives and the nature of expression being personal in nature,
our music-making was seen differently by each member of the group. Harry recalled, on
the topic of different perspectives within the group regarding conceptions of the purpose
of our collaboration:

People reacted differently to the recording and release of our performed improvisa-
tions as a packaged album. Some members of the group had less of a role in the post-­
production stage because of this, and it raised questions about the ‘purpose’ of free
improvisation in terms of its performers and audience(s) and how it can exist as both a
process and product.

Despite each member assuming a different role in the group, overwhelmingly the process of
creating was seen as more important than the finished product. Euan reflected:

For me, I get the most from Crouch when playing. I almost don’t care about how the
finished recordings sound – for me it is all about the playing process and not the prod-
uct. Perhaps in a selfish way, what is most important to me is how it feels playing in the
moment. I would never choose to listen to this style of music outside of playing it in
the band and I’ll admit I’ve never listened to the album recordings all the way through,
however I love how it feels to play in the group. This probably affects the way I play –
not having any conscious references from listening could bring a sense of naivety,
which either comes through in my playing or not.

Matthew made a similar point:

Previous creative endeavors I have had, inside and outside of University, have had func-
tional goals attached to the output: “to make a pop record, to get a good mark for my
arrangement, to showcase my skills to a certain person” etc. The musical output with
Crouch had no function attached. It was meant for nothing. It was pure expression, and
probably the closest thing to ‘art music’ that I have ever experienced. Pure interpreta-
tion, no functionality. The music was for itself. Ars Gratia Artis.

Others within the group reaped personal benefits from the structure of our music-making
with group members noting an increase in confidence. This was partly due to the ‘freely
improvised’ nature of the group and the music that was permitted by the freedom of the
aesthetic frame for the music and the egalitarian nature of the group. Additionally, some
members felt that because improvisation is often linked to practices associated with jazz,
their previous experience of improvising has been closely linked to musical ‘rules’ around
harmony and rhythm, for example. With Crouch, the focus of our improvisation ranged
from micro-elements (pitch, texture), to macro (form) to the undefinable (emotion, inter-
pretation). Matthew went as far as to say that:

Improvising in these different ways expanded my notion of what improvisation is: from
adaptability to harmonic information, to an ethos of music and creativity. It showed me
that sometimes “I am enough”. That it is not the amount of “chops” that I have that make
a good musician, but my internal creative energy, my unique viewpoint. I didn’t feel like
I had to have “paid my dues” to play with Crouch, only that I had to bring my creativity,
and an open mind willing to interpret and adapt to new sounds, and new ideas.
 Activating and Developing Free Improvisational Creativities  361
As Burnard (2012) states, ‘understanding improvisation requires us to examine how new
possibilities are generated or authored’ (p. 151), and much of our work within Crouch, in
terms of both music-making and how we can engage in various collaborative creativities,
has been a process of examining such possibilities, and exploring how we each relate to each
other in improvisational and scholarly contexts.

Concluding Thoughts
For this group of musicians, engagement with free improvisation in the context of higher
education has been overwhelmingly positive.3 Working together in the manner described
above, which Burnard (2012) has referred to as pedagogic partnership context, has resulted
in a range of important benefits for the group members, ranging from extended definitions
of music and musicianship, increased confidence, improved mental health, new interper-
sonal connections, to fundamental shifts in comprehension of the nature of higher educa-
tion. Our reflections have led us to consider the notion of authority and hierarchy within
educational institutions and how these can impact on music-making, and musical learning
activities, both in terms of the music produced, and in terms of the way in which perceived
power can skew influence, tacitly instill certain values or behaviors, and lead to group
members not being on ‘equal footing’, to recall the wording of one group member, above.
By engaging in free improvisation and embarking on this project with an egalitarian ethos
in which everyone’s contributions, views, and opinions were equally valid, we believe that
many of the impacts of institutional hierarchy and authority that usually impact on musical
activity within higher education settings were mitigated, or even fully dissolved.
It is the belief of the group members that our collaboration has had a positive impact on
our approach to, and understanding of, the nature of music education from our various per-
spectives as learners and educators. The approach to music-making, musical learning, and
creativities that our free improvisation activity facilitates has developed confidence, curiosity,
creativity, and communication. Moreover, this work has made us question both the implicit
and explicit rules, disciplines, traditions, and idioms that are associated with our instruments,
the sounds that they can/should produce, and what it means to play with others in a group in
which predefined roles and idiomatic boundaries are non-existent (Bailey, 1992). Involvement
in/with free improvisation, in the context of formal higher education in music, has allowed
us to consider education more freely. That is, to consider the ways in which a vision of music
education, based on improvisational creativity, could be less prescriptive, more inclusive, and
freed from idiomatic considerations that impact on and shape the consciousness of those in-
volved, including conceptions of what it means to be creative, or the very notion of creativities
itself. It has allowed us to foster something like the ‘free space’ that Olthuis (2015) describes
as being important for activating intuitive creativities and in doing so we have flourished
musically, and grown creatively. Similarly, it has allowed us to experience the importance of
freedom as a concept (Freire, 2018) within a vision of music education that is non-­hierarchical,
community-focused, and dialogic. This is truly a vision of music education that does not
consider the transmission of knowledge, training, or skill acquisition as central; rather, as one
that has simultaneously developed the participants creatively, musically, interpersonally, and
democratically, through our exploratory, collaborative, and ultimately liberatory praxis.

Questions for Consideration

1 Might it be beneficial to adopt improvisational creativity as an ethos for formal music
education?
2 How can improvisational creativity aid in fostering dialogic relationships among groups
of musicians, including students and educators?
362  Chris Atton et al.
3 Can free improvisational creativity be beneficial in the development of a multi-faceted
notion of musicianship?
4 What educational advantages might musicians benefit from by engaging in non-­
idiomatic musicking?

Notes
1 To listen to an audio trace of our experience, in the form of our album, please see https://crouchthe-
band.bandcamp.com/releases
2 As is noted in the introduction to this chapter, the idea to engage in this extracurricular work grew
out of an elective module which focused on jazz.
3 It is of interest to note that a similar study by Randles et al. (2021) showed, unanimously, very positive
results in a study on ‘jamming’ and spirituality.

References
Association of Improvising Musicians (1983). The Educative Potential of Improvised Music: A Report
on the Forum held at the Oval House, London on November 16th 1982. London: Association of Im-
provising Musicians.
Bailey, D. (1992). Improvisation: Its Nature and Practice in Music. Da Capo Press.
Burnard, P. (2012). Musical Creativities in Practice. Oxford University Press.
Campbell, P. S. (2009). Learning to improvise music, improvising to learn music. Musical Improvisation:
Art, Education, and Society, 119–142.
Chang, H., Ngunjiri, F., & Hernandez, K. A. C. (2016). Collaborative Autoethnography (Vol. 8). Routledge.
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Sheed and Ward Ltd.
Freire, P. (2018). Education as a Practice of Freedom. Duke University Press.
Freire, P. (2021). Education for Critical Consciousness. Bloomsbury Publishing.
Kanellopoulos, Panagiotis (2011). Freedom and responsibility: The aesthetics of free musical improvisa-
tion and its educational implications. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 19, 2
Merker, B. H. (2006). Layered constraints on the multiple creativities of music. In Musical Creativity
(pp. 41–57). Psychology Press.
Olthuis, E. (2015). The inner voice: Activating intuitive and improvisational creativities. In P. Burnard
and E. Haddon (Eds.), Activating Diverse Musical Creativities: Teaching and Learning in Higher Music Educa-
tion, 123–135. Bloomsbury.
Prévost, Eddie (1984). Commentary on the Proceedings. In Association of Improvising Musicians (Ed.),
Improvisation: History, Directions, Practice. London: Association of Improvising Musicians, pp. 11–13.
Randles, C, Balic, A., Jimenez, R., Acostini, D., & Dodson, G. (2021). The Experience of Musical Jam-
ming: Testing the Fit of a Model of Hermeneutic Phenomenology of Spirituality in Music Education.
Research Studies in Music Education, https://doi.org/10.1177/1321103X211038844
Saint-Germier, P., & Canonne, C. (2020). Coordinating Free Improvisation: An Integrative Framework for the
Study of Collective Improvisation. Musicae Scientiae.
Savouret, A. (2010). Introduction à un solfège de l’audible. L’improvisation libre comme outil pratique. Symétrie.
Wolcott, H. F. (1994). Transforming Qualitative Data: Description, Analysis, and Interpretation. Sage
31 Collaborative Compositional Creativity
Composers’ Perspectives on Student and
Teacher Input
Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews

Introduction
…the synergy of the teacher/student input was a kind of homing device that led me by
degrees from what simply didn’t work toward what did …
Charlie Biklen

There are several music composition programs and courses in Canadian post-secondary
institutions and conservatories. The fundamental problem is that these programs solely
address music composition on professional level repertoire and not focused on educational
music for young musicians (Andrews & Carruthers, 2004; Carruthers, 2000; Colgrass,
2004). This is because educational music is often viewed as being of less quality than music
composed for professionals (Camphouse, 2004, 2007; Gershman, 2007; Hatrik, 2002; Ross,
1995). Moreover, the varied levels of technical ability among young musicians and the var-
ious ways students interpret sound create distinctive challenges for composers writing ed-
ucational music. These challenges cannot necessarily be remedied by score study, listening
activities, and textbooks alone, but require compositional creativity, problem-solving, and
a collaborative setting in which teachers, students, and composers interact (Andrews, 2017).
From the little known about educational music, composition can be developed in educa-
tional settings when young musicians are given notational strategies, appropriate materials,
electronic tools, and compositional parameters (Burnard, 2012; Hickey, 2001; Randles,
2019; Randles & Stringham, 2013; Rine, 2005, Webster, 2011). Computer scoring is often
helpful when writing compositions as composers receive immediate feedback. Further-
more, using educational compositional frameworks outlining level-appropriate rhythms,
scale(s), and length of time can be beneficial when composing educational music (Rusinek,
2011; Soares, 2011; Webster, 2011). It is also important that music composers be aware of
students’ technical limitations as amateurs play at different levels (Barnes, 2002; Duncan &
Andrews, 2015; Wendzich & Andrews, 2019a, 2019b). Consequently, “[i]t is essential to
target a particular difficulty level and stay with it” (Barnes, 2002, p. 4). Moreover, like
professional writing, pedagogical composing employs many of the same compositional fac-
ets: a fluid musical form, structure, theme(s), note values, intervals, ranges, melodic and
rhythmic complexity, tempo, phrasing, dynamics, and articulation – although level- and
age-­appropriate (Andrews, 2006, 2007, 2017).
Even though this is the case, most composers do not know how to write using mu-
sical language that is comprehensible to amateur musicians (Andrews, 2004a; Bowden,
2010; Colgrass, 2004). One of the many reasons contemporary music is inaccessible to
students pertains to complexity. Music began dynamically changing during the 20th cen-
tury, wherein atonality and serialism were introduced (Adorno, 1980; Viera de Carvalho,
1999; Walker, 1997). Moreover, composers had more access to world music that incorpo-
rated intricate nuances of alternate modalities, vocalizations, and tuning systems on a much

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-36
364  Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews
broader scale. Electro-acoustic music with its own theory and practice also rapidly devel-
oped (Frisius, 1981). To ensure students can play contemporary music, Hatrik (2002) states
that composers should learn how to write educational compositions; that is, music written
specifically for young musicians.
The purpose of the study, Making Music: Composing with Young Musicians, was to ob-
tain an in-depth understanding of how composers can collaborate with young musicians
and their teachers to co-create educational music. Eighteen composers were commis-
sioned by the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board to write 18 new pieces in this Social
Sciences and Humanities Research Council-funded project. Over a three-year period,
composers commented about teacher and student compositional input. This input was
explored through a pragmatic lens as the study concerns applications, “what works,” and
solutions to problems (Patton, 1990). The problem is most important in contrast to the
method. In order to address the problem and address what is “most appropriate,” research-
ers employing pragmatism often use multiple data sources (triangulation) to understand
the problem (Creswell, 2011; Rossman & Wilson, 1985). Moreover, Integrated Inquiry
was employed throughout the Making Music Project as it reflects pragmatic notions of
“most appropriate” techniques so as to “best address” the research topic. This research
strategy substantiates data analysis through the use of multiple data collection protocols
from the same or different groups of participants, or, alternately, the same protocol from
different time periods (Andrews, 2008). The blending of multiple data sources is encour-
aged in the literature for field-based problems (Creswell, 2011; Miles & Huberman, 1994;
Patton, 1990).

Research Process
In order to explore how composers write educational music through a pragmatic lens,
the Making Music study adopted a qualitative research design reflecting the diversity,
multiplicity, and pluralized practices of creativities. Amabile and Tighe (1993) as well as
Woodman and Schoenfeldt (1989) reveal a framework (comprised of four dimensions: place,
process, product, and person) illustrating some of these complexities. With respect to musical
creativities, Burnard (2012) provides a model illustrating the interplay of culture, person,
and field, as well as practice principles, authorship, and mediation. A key feature of this
framework is the notion that “real world practices” derive from the interplay between these
dimensions. Many facets within these dimensions are alluded to by Andrews (2004b, 2017).
When composers write repertoire, they employ the following: the pre-requisites for compos-
ing (training, emotions, context), compositional process (strategies, techniques, sequencing),
musical piece (features, style, impact), and person (characteristics, pre-dispositions, motiva-
tion) (Andrews, 2004b).
In the Making Music Project, different protocols over a three-year time period were
implemented for each dimension to address specific secondary questions: (i) pre-requisites –
how can musical ideas be conceptualized and developed in collaboration with students?
(composer record); (ii) process – what musical knowledge and skills are developed when stu-
dents and teachers co-create music with composers in schools? (learning report); (iii) piece –
what aspects of the new compositions reflect the teacher and student input? (composition
commentary); and person – what do students and teachers learn from collaboration with
professional composers? (teacher questionnaire). This chapter focuses on the third dimen-
sion (piece). Consequently, 18 composers expressed their observations and experiences in a
composer commentary addressing the following research question:

What aspects of the new compositions reflect teacher and student input?
 Collaborative Compositional Creativity  365
Table 31.1  C
 omposition Commentary

Demographic Information
1 Name
2 Grade
3 Associate Teacher
4 School
Questions
1 What is the musical form of the new work?
2 How were the musical ideas organized and developed?
3 How did student and teacher input shape the overall development of the composition? Please
elaborate.
4 What specific student and teacher input assisted you to create a new educational composition?
Please refer to the application bar numbers within the score when responding. You may also
find it helpful to refer to your comments in the composer record that you completed during
the conceptualization and development of the work.

Bar Numbers Description of Students’ Input Description of Teacher’s Input

1
2
3
4
5

The questions in the compositional commentary were initially developed in an international

research study (Andrews, 2004c), and subsequently, they were refined in consultation with
members of the Ontario Regional Council of the Canadian Music Centre (refer to Table 31.1).
Eighteen composers from across Ontario, affiliated with the Canadian Music Cen-
tre, were selected using a snowball technique. The composers were invited to participate
since they obtained membership as associates based on a juried process, thereby ensuring
a similar level of expertise by all participants. They collaborated with 18 music teachers in
various middle and secondary schools within the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board
(OCDSB). The teacher-composer pairing resulted from OCDSB staff input and consulta-
tion. These music teachers were invited to participate by the Arts Instructional Coach, who
was also the Contact Person for the partnership for the OCDSB, and they were selected by
board superintendents. The teachers all had similar backgrounds in music and education
and required certification to teach in the schools.
The composers and teachers collaborated with students (grades six through twelve) in one
of the three time periods: the 2012–2013 school year, the 2013–2014 school year, or the 2014–
2015 school year. The same protocol administered in different time periods assists the researcher
to obtain multiple perspectives on the object of inquiry (Andrews, 2008). This collaboration
enabled the composers to discern the compositional aspects reflecting ­teacher-student input.
These data were collected through composer commentaries (Table 31.2).

Table 31.2  Comparison of class grade and teacher/composer pairings over three years

Year 1 (2012–2013) Year 2 (2013–2014) Year 3 (2014–2015)

Class Grade Range 7–12 7–12 6–12

# Composer/ 5 6 7
Teacher Pairings
366  Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews
Results
Qualitative results are organized according to the key themes that emerged from the
composer commentaries concerning teacher input – (1) Musical Knowledge/Ideas,
(2) ­Instrumental Range, and (3) Encouraging Students Musically – and concerning student
input – (1) Structure and Theme, (2) Melody, (3) Rhythm, and (4) Instrumental Range.

Teacher Input

Musical Knowledge/Ideas
All teachers provided input that directly or indirectly helped shape the composition. Con-
cerning the former, they contributed their creative ideas in the brainstorming stages of the
composition, as well as in the writing and refinement of it. For instance, in the genesis stage
of the piece, one teacher specifically asked for a composition reflecting the school totem
(mascot) – a hawk. Another encouraged the composer to use unusual sounds (such as that
of a brake drum and anvil) from the school’s percussion collection. A teacher also requested
the composer write a part specifically for the bass guitar player.
After a first draft was written, a teacher recommended tweaking the introduction sug-
gesting, “more optional percussion instruments.” This notion would cause dissonance in
the piece – giving “the work a real edge.” In another instance, the music teacher suggested
adding a bass clarinet, baritone sax, trombones, and tubas as the original version (which
excluded them) “felt” too thin. Doublings were also encouraged by other teachers, not only
when a passage was thin but when it should express more excitement, as with the “hot po-
tato” theme in one of the compositions. Another teacher realized that a key signature was
missing: “Various scales are in keys with one or two accidentals but written without a key
signature.” This same teacher also recommended that the “[u]pper parts of each section play
more of the scale while the lower parts often play one repeated note.”

Technical Skills
All teachers provided input on the technical aspects of the compositions as they were at-
tempting to address students’ instrumental limitations. One composer mentioned the teacher
tweaking passages within the score, suggesting the “lower flute, clarinet and trumpet parts
[were made] easier.” In another instance, the teacher said the “scaler material” was too diffi-
cult and therefore the composer had to be mindful of its intricacies. Another teacher detailed
a few difficulties students were having with the overall piece. Consequently, the composer
simplified the piece by eliminating “extra meter changes and adding more doublings.” In an-
other instance, the teacher suggested doublings and “using the dynamics (fp’s in particular) to
make the playing musical and more balanced.” This teacher input on range and balance crept
in as one composer claimed, “[The teacher] suggested I write all parts divided into two…
[which] would allow for the beginners to participate with easier material.” Students were
also able to participate with ease when a teacher recommended the “[h]iders [in their ‘hide
and seek’ themed composition] play a gentle melody in half notes often starting with a 5th.”
Other teachers suggested ways of addressing range limitations and often guided the com-
poser to “experiment with accidentals,” “try some syncopation,” do “double stops with
one open string,” and “write anything up to an eighth note,” as this is what students were
capable of executing. A teacher even relayed to the composer students’ issues with range
and rhythmic complications. Thus, many teachers suggested simplifying rhythm, meter,
fingerings, orchestration, dynamics, articulations, and tempo in some passages. According
 Collaborative Compositional Creativity  367
to one composer, the teacher would “unfailingly … get a precise diagnosis of what the [in-
strumental] problem was.” In many instances, this “diagnosis” became evident when teach-
ers helped students rehearse. This input was then relayed to the composer and the necessary
adjustments were made. According to one composer, this input came quite regularly as he
had only composed for professional musicians, not a school band.
Teachers not only provided input throughout the composition and during rehearsals, but
many provided input about students’ instrumental ranges just prior to the first composer-
student meeting, and in the beginning compositional stages. This information helped the
composer reshape the composition as one composer stated, “[t]he entire electric bass part
reflects [the teacher’s] assertion about the novice reading level of his … bass player.” The
bass part became “technically easy.”

Encourage Students
Teachers not only provided input that directly helped shape the composition but encour-
aged students musically which indirectly contributed to the overall piece. Many teachers
suggested prompts that would help students discern what attributes (i.e., percussion colors,
rhythmic, melody in the bass, etc.) they desired to have throughout the musical piece. In
one instance, the teacher used simple percussion instruments as a prompt (device) which
helped students generate ideas and practice rhythm. Teachers also ensured that students felt
comfortable offering their input. As one composer stated, “[the teacher] worked hard to
get students to share their ideas and ensure that the class was well-represented.” Another
composer expressed the extent to which the teacher helped students understand such mu-
sical concepts as inherent drama in a piece, and how their playing can reflect it. In another
instance, the teacher suggested the soprano sax player have a part in the composition as
playing opportunities for this student were scarce in the past. Consequently, the composer
wrote a soprano sax solo. What the composer wrote, however, was too challenging for
the student. As a result, the composer and teacher encouraged the soprano sax player to
improvise a solo part that fit his technique; this was then polished and incorporated into
the piece.

Student Input

Structure and Theme

Most students and composers began the compositional process1 by brainstorming themes
and the overall structure and length of the piece. In one instance students suggested the
compositional outline be one of repetition; they proposed repeating the same passage (a
choral progression). However, they also desired to slightly alter the sound by adding more
contrapuntal lines which would be used throughout the composition. In a different in-
stance, students decided upon a “slow, short intro, quick A section in hybrid meter, fol-
lowed by a contrasting slower B section and then back to an altered A section.” Another
composer mentioned the students desiring a “4-part structure, with the final part being a
coda.” Although this was the case, most composers said the musical form of their work was
A-B-A (i.e., ternary form).
The majority of the composers also expressed students contributing the thematic aspect
of the composition. A theme reflecting the “hide and seek” game was employed with the
cello section playing a “Jaws”-related “attacking” quote. In a different instance, students
selected a mood or “overall feel of each section, with consideration given to the overall arch
of the piece.” Rather than selecting a “hide and seek” theme, these students considered such
368  Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews
moods as mysterious, mysterious adventure, espionage, deserted island, thriller, survival,
action, flying, night, moonlight, spooky, etc. They also improvised sound effects on their
instruments to reflect the theme, “a walk in the woods.” Rather than selecting only one
theme, a different composer mentioned students proposing a contrasting secondary one:
“[This student] used simple 1/4 and 1/8 note patterns and was a welcome contrast to the
march theme.” Another composer stated he incorporated the second theme into the piece.
Other composers indicated the students contributing not only to the theme but selecting
the types of instruments that should be used, as one claimed, “[t]he class took immediate
ownership of the material and would tell me which instruments to use and make general
comments about the register that they liked to play in.”

Melody
All composers mentioned that the young musicians created melodies. In one instance, the
main melodic motif for the quick hybrid meter section was proposed by them. Concerning the
melody, another composer mentioned using one of the students’ vivid memories as the main
melody: “The main melody, a variation on Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t help falling in love,’ which
was brought by one of the students as his vivid memory … [was] the guiding element in the
middle section.” A melody based on a “hot potato” game (passing the melody around the play-
ers) was also suggested by the musicians. The students’ notion derived from their own “Tuning
Exercise” – which was a B flat major triad – they often did at the beginning of each music class.
Another composer claimed that the young musicians decided upon having two main
melodies, “a child’s ‘trick-or-treater’… and a scary/villain,” and in another instance, stu-
dents selected all main melodies and counter-melodies. Moreover, they decided the piece
would be programmatic. In another instance, the young musicians desired to create a “full-
group hawk call” through experimentation and improvisation which drove the melody
and reflected the theme of the composition. In a different instance, the composer supplied
an idea; however, the students improvised on their instruments to create a congruous at-
mosphere. One of the composers even mentioned how “very strange” the middle section
was when based on improvisation on the temple blocks. Although strange, it was “exactly
suggested by the students.”
Another composer said the middle section – comprised of melodies – was composed by
the young musicians. This was accomplished by having all the students contribute a compo-
sition they wrote, and then ensuring “the most appropriate submission” became the melody
for a particular compositional section. In this case, the most appropriate student composi-
tion was “solemn and complimented the material feel of the main theme.” This pedagogical
technique of having students compose or select melodies which can be incorporated into
the main compositional piece was a common practice. As one composer stated, “[t]he stu-
dents were given free reign to compose their own parts.” In one instance, a student’s “call
and response type phrasing” was incorporated into the initial sections of the composition.

Rhythm
The pedagogical technique of having students contribute their musical compositional ideas
by creating their own melodies extended to students creating their own rhythms. One
composer claimed that various compositional rhythms were developed based on melodic
and rhythmic variations the students worked on. An example of the rhythms played in bars
on the flute “was a variation composed by a student on the Theme of Mars from Holst’s
Planets.” Another composer said the students loved rhythm and rhythmic vibrations to such
an extent that the piece almost became a “rhythm study in disguise.” In another instance,
 Collaborative Compositional Creativity  369
students experimented to discern how to add percussion instruments and rhythms to their
18-bar saxophone passage.

Instrumental Range
Not only did the young musicians contribute their own melodic and rhythmic creations,
many ensured to express their concerns directly (to the composer) or indirectly (to the
teacher) with instrumental range. One composer stated that students expressed difficulty
with the notes. Consequently, for these 13-year-olds the composer realized that the “clari-
nets [should be] in their lowest register and in quarter notes … eighth notes [should be] used
sparingly throughout the work …” In a different instance, students suggested their 18-bar
saxophone passage (which drove the composition) be “made easier” with “more rests.”
Toward the end of one of the pieces students requested that the notes within the bassoon
part be lowered one octave. Another composer claimed that when rehearsing the compo-
sition, “students in the class had the final say on whether or not instrumental parts needed
to be changed to make the piece more ‘playable.’” For another composer, toward the end
of the composition “the student who was to play [the part with bells, whole notes, the same
five notes in the same order over and over, same dynamic] bowed out, saying it was too
difficult.”

Discussion
The compositional process often begins with a creative musical idea (preparation) and then
transforms to a brief sketch (incubation), elaboration and refinement of a first draft (illu-
mination), and finally revisions to an ultimate copy (verification) (Bennett, 1976). These
stages, however, are not necessarily linear, but can be cyclical, non-linear, or non-­sequential
(Freed-Garrod, 1999; Katz & Gardner, 2012). According to Mazzola, Park, and Thalmann
(2011), music composition is often non-sequential as it is an “artistic and scientific expres-
sion, and that such extensions can be achieved by following a general process of creative
exploration” (p. 3).

Preparation and Incubation

Teachers and students began contributing their creative ideas in the brainstorming stages
of the composition. The notion of using unusual sounds (i.e., from a brake drum or anvil)
within a composition is consistent with Camphouse (2002, 2007). When one of the teach-
ers proposed a hawk as a musical theme, students began experimenting and improvising
on their instruments to create hawk calls. Experimenting with ideas and sounds, as well
as improvising one’s own patterns is reflected in other educational music studies (Menard,
2013; O’Neill, 2014). It is important that the beginning stages of a composition be “exper-
imental … and free of any preconditions or limits” (Zdechlik, 2007, p. 308). Furthermore,
when musicians experiment and improvise, they learn the importance of improvisation
in music creativities (Freund, 2011). They also develop musical decision-making and
­problem-solving skills (Isaksen, Dorval, & Treffinger, 2011; Teffinger, Selby, & Isaksen,
2008). The Making Music Project enabled the young musicians to engage in a classroom
activity whereby they explored, inquired, reflected, and expressed musical ideas which is
consistent with the encouragement of musical creativities within the classroom (Menard,
2013; O’Neill, 2014; Toshalis & Nakkula, 2012).
Musical ideas were generated as students suggested the structure and theme of the com-
position. Barnes (2002) and Broege (2002) claim that one must have a plan (form and
370  Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews
structure) before delving into the simplicity or complexity of the piece. According to
Barnes (2002), “[f ]orm gathers musical ideas into larger statements, and these larger inner
structures are what make for clarity in the overall presentation of musical ideas” (p. 5).
This plan provides the infrastructure or “skeleton” on which large compositions are built
(Barnes, 2002). Although composers are free to change their mind about the structure, the
initial plan often remains intact (Broege, 2002) as occurred with the use of ternary form in
the Making Music Project.
While developing a plan for the piece, students brainstormed themes reflecting their
personalities, interests, and/or schools. They dove into their inner selves/individual history
(a facet of multiple music creativities) to produce a theme. This notion aligns with what
Burnard (2012) says, “musical creativities arise out of practices in which people have lived
and learnt, and concerns what they explicitly and implicitly value about different forms of
authorship, mediation, and principles of practice” (p. 238). It often seems most appropriate
to compose music that also reflects the character and spirit of an occasion, or music that
illustrates the medium for which and context in which one is composing (Nixon, 2007).
Using words or phrases – in the case of the Making Music Project: a hawk call, mysterious,
marching, hide and seek, etc. – to generate musical notions and trying to represent them
melodically and/or rhythmically is consistent with Spears (2007).
Students were also asked to create short compositions individually or in small groups
which could potentially contribute to the overall classroom composition. The process of
creating short works was non-judgmental, somewhat open-ended, and free from intellectual
constraints (Zdechlik, 2007). According to Menard (2013), once short melodies are complete,
the young musicians may extend their compositions. In most cases, within the Making Music
Project, the students’ compositions were extended as new musical ideas helped to form the
final composition. The process of creating their own short compositions enabled them to
develop quality musical ideas (Giesbrecht & Andrews, 2015). Many of these ideas were re-
flected in their melodies (patterns and cells), rhythms (meters), and structure (formal analysis).
According to Jan Van der Roost (2007), a composition comes to life when melodies, themes,
harmonic systems, rhythm, instrumentation, and structure comprise a musical piece.
In order to encourage students’ creativities and help them discern the musical attributes
(i.e., percussion colors, rhythmic, melody in the bass, etc.) they desired to have through-
out the musical piece, some teachers used prompts. This pedagogical tactic is often used
to ignite students’ imaginations and is taught in teacher education programs (i.e., teach-
ing communities). Through narrative or musical prompts (such as movie scenes, a short
story, photographs, or musical instruments), the young musicians can begin a composition
(Naughton & Lines, 2013; Prichard, 2017; Stauffer, 2013). The initial inspiration of a piece
can be a chord, a rhythmic notion, a melodic line, a collection of pitches, or an extra-­
musical concept; for example, a trick or treat, hide and seek, hot potato, walking in the
woods, or a vivid memory, as occurred in the Making Music Project (Boysen, 2007). In
most instances, a composer develops most, if not all, of their material from it, including
material that is supposed to be contrasting in nature (Boysen, 2007). Within this project,
students also brainstormed a contrasting secondary melody to the main theme.
Not only can teachers and composers use narrative prompts to inspire musical ideas but
they can use visual art as well (Riley, 2013). Musical ideas were spawned from artworks
within the Making Music Project: teachers encouraged students to create, explore, and
share ideas, as well as consider the significance of emotion and mood within a piece. Such
an approach promotes risk-taking and decision-making behavior (Berkley, 2004).
In the brainstorming stages of the composition, some teachers provided input on range
and band balance, suggesting the composer divide all compositional parts into two (e.g.,
flute 1 and flute 2) which would allow for the beginners to participate with easier material
 Collaborative Compositional Creativity  371
(Wendzich & Andrews, 2017). Moreover, it was suggested that due to instrumental limi-
tations, students should play the melody in half notes, and that the composer should write
anything up to an eighth note. Similar limitations related to educational compositions, such
as the avoidance of 16th notes, are congruous with Andrews (2011) and Camphouse (2002,
2004, 2007). Duncan and Andrews (2015) and Wendzich and Andrews (2017, 2019a) also
address students’ instrumental range limitation, indicating their importance for successful
execution of educational music.

Illumination and Verification

Once ideas began percolating, the students contributed their melodies. One such melody
reflected both local and global community traditions related to Halloween – “trick-or-
treating.” After presenting their melodies, the composer wrote the first main compositional
draft and all music teachers provided technical instrumental advice. Through music re-
hearsals, teachers recognized students’ limitations. Consequently, they suggested the com-
posers’ experiment with accidentals, integrate more doublings and double stops, eliminate
extra meter changes, and simplify the scaler material, which is consistent with other studies
identifying level-appropriate musical aspects (Andrews, 2011). It is common for compos-
ers to receive advice from instrumental teachers to determine whether certain composi-
tional notions are at an appropriate level (Duncan & Andrews, 2015). Other studies also
indicate the benefits associated when teachers provide feedback to artists (Andrews, 2016;
Carlisle, 2011).
Teachers identified challenges students were experiencing and communicated this
information to the composers consistent with Prichard (2017). In one instance, when
a part was too challenging, the soprano sax player improvised a solo part that fit his
technique. The young musicians had the freedom to explore musical ideas and concepts
while experimenting and improvising on their instruments, which is consistent with
other studies on musical creativities (O’Neill, 2014; Wendzich & Andrews, 2017; Wend-
zich & Andrews, 2019b). When a musical passage was too lengthy, students suggested
that more rests be added. An avoidance of long passages and an integration of rests in
educational compositions reflect Andrews’ (2011) findings. Notes were also lowered
one octave so that the clarinets were in the lowest register using quarter notes, while
eighth notes were used sparingly. Similar limitations, especially the avoidance of 16th
notes, are consistent with findings on music for beginner students (Andrews, 2011;
Camphouse, 2002, 2004, 2007).
Ideas continued percolating as students slightly altered the compositions; in one instance
they asked whether other musical aspects could be added: “As a group, the students wanted
some unexpected and startling music in the piece.” Altering a musical blueprint – a direc-
tion for the work to follow – at any time to accommodate new ideas or a new direction is
consistent with Hilliard (2007). By refining the first draft (illumination) and revising to an
ultimate copy (verification), the students and teachers engaged in a successful, pedagogical,
creative process that helped composers write educational music.

Concluding Comments
Teachers and students provided input that helped shape the final music composition. Both
contributed their creative ideas through a non-sequential compositional process of brain-
storming, writing, revising, and editing. Students and teachers contributed whatever came
to their minds at any given moment, which led to altering and readjusting the composi-
tions on an ongoing basis (Boysen, 2007; Mazzola et al., 2011). Furthermore, the teachers
372  Tessandra Wendzich and Bernard W. Andrews
encouraged students musically and identified students’ instrumental ranges. The young
musicians contributed ideas pertaining to the overall structure of the piece, as well as the
thematic, melodic, rhythmic, and instrumental aspects of the composition. The findings
will be of potential interest to school music teachers, post-secondary music educators, com-
posers, and music publishers. The research offers music educators a rationale for includ-
ing collaborative composition in their music programs; it assists composers in formulating
collaborative compositional processes, and provides publishers an incentive for promoting
collaborative music composition projects. Future research could focus on exploring student
and teacher contributions in relation or in contrast to the composer’s input. Such studies
could discern more fully the pedagogical aspects associated with creating educational mu-
sic, as well as composers’ knowledge of amateur musicians’ abilities.

Acknowledgments
The authors would like to acknowledge funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities
Research Council Grant No. 890-2012-0143, and also additional funding from the Faculty
of Education at the University of Ottawa.

Questions for Consideration

1 What are some limitations of notation-based composition?
2 In what ways does notation-based composition miss the mark of discovering and fos-
tering diverse real-world creativities with regard to compositional activity?
3 In what ways does brainstorming, writing, revising, and editing with notation-based
composition mirror the processes involved in DAW-based composition?
4 How can these differences be better researched for greater music as well as music
education?

Note
1 This compositional process was authored by a compositional creativity involving multiple creativities
(Merker, 2006).

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32 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”
A Small Step Towards Future Readiness
Eddy Chong

Introduction
Sixty years after its release, John Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” remains, arguably, “one of the
most revered and feared” Jazz standards (Vox, 2018).1 Saxophonists would be challenged by
the improvisatory demands of moving through chains of II-V-I in three major-third related
keys, and navigating some ten key changes with an initial set of 26 chords. Jazz musicians
and others however may marvel at how Coltrane could sustain his creative feats one after
another over some ten years, if not more had he lived longer. What can we learn from Col-
trane? Does he offer us relevant lessons as we continue to grapple with the still uncertain
and precarious future that lies ahead during the present global pandemic?
This chapter was first conceived at a time when the world was and still is wrestling with
the disruptions of the COVID-19 pandemic – when, in the musical world, musicians are
still trying to find the way forward for their professional livelihood. City or country lock-
downs have forced musicians to reimagine music performances, ensemble rehearsals, other
musical collaborations, and even music teaching; many had no choice but to explore what
technology and online platforms could offer. As if this were not challenge enough, each
subsequent wave of the pandemic in various countries impacts living and working situations
differently, and with the rolling out of new technologies, the learning and adaptation seem
never-ending. Beyond these more immediate concerns and anxieties, it is more than expe-
dient that educators also ask the longer-term question of how we may better prepare our
next generation of musicians not just for the still-emerging new normals but more generally
for any such major disruptions in future. To use a current buzz phrase, how may we prepare
to be more “future ready”?
While one would not say that Coltrane had lived through turbulent times of the magni-
tude and scale that we are experiencing now, he certainly had to find his feet professionally
in the immediate post-war period at a time when the Western musical world – both Jazz
and classical – were witnessing multifarious stylistic cross currents, renewals and even rad-
ical changes. Coltrane lived through the overlapping trajectories of blues, R&B, cool jazz,
hard bop, soul jazz, Latin jazz, third stream jazz, avant-garde jazz, modal jazz, free jazz, Jazz
fusion, you name it, during his career. Music technologies were also advancing and offering
new creative possibilities that many musicians took advantage of. So, how did Coltrane
move from his humble beginning as a navy musician to emerge as a giant figure in the Jazz
world, especially when his alcohol and drug addictions almost put an early end to his career
just when it was beginning to get off the ground with Miles Davies?
In our present context, we may, in retrospect, examine how Coltrane was in a sense
“future ready” for the Jazz world he could not have imagined when he started out in the
early 40s. Allowing our pandemic-stricken mindset to colour our lens, we shall tease out
some lessons from Coltrane’s first major breakthrough piece, “Giant Steps”, then step back

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-37
 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”  377
for a broader perspective to examine his personal and creative life so as to draw some useful
insights. To frame our discussion for the present day, we shall use Sardar and Sweeney’s
Three-Tomorrows of Postnormal Times framework (2016). Additionally, we shall ac-
quaint ourselves with music careers in the digital musical world to broaden our purview
of m
­ usic-related careers in our increasingly technology-rich and multi-reality society. To
distil some learning points from this relatively new musical world, we shall zoom in a little
on two contrasting digital-world musical practices, namely, live-streaming in Second Life
and the virtual choir in order to surface some specific illustrative details. These vignettes
are then placed against the broader canvas of the digital musical world provided by Andrew
Hugill (2008). Our consolidation on educating the next generation eventually takes us back
to Coltrane.

Context: Future Readiness in Postnormal Times

Humankind’s concern about being prepared for the future is not new. What is perhaps dif-
ferent this time is the extremity of the angst and sufferings triggered by the suddenness and
acuteness of having to grapple with a global calamity that is complex in its ramification, and
the urgency to find a solution quickly enough at the personal, societal and global level, the
last mentioned being all the more challenging because of the intense inter-connectedness
across different societal domains and the international geo-political complications. Con-
comitant with this calamity are the broad and oftentimes radical societal changes that stem
from what has been termed “Industrial Revolution 4.0”. The pandemic immensely aggra-
vated existing uncertainties about the future as it accelerated digital transformations. These,
among other factors, at times created a sense of disempowerment or helplessness. Sadly, the
huge losses of human lives inevitably also took a toll on the psychological well-being of
many people as they wrestled with the immediate challenges and uncertain prospects on a
personal level.
To counter any over-reactive tendencies as we speak of future readiness, we may turn
to futurist thinkers who have been contemplating such issues in a systematic way for many
decades now. Futurologist Ziauddin Sardar, for example, has proposed three kinds of to-
morrows when discussing how society can prepare for postnormal times. Extending the
work of Ravetz and Funtowicz in the 1990s on what they had termed “postnormal science”,
Sardar describes “Post Normal Times” (PNT) as “an in-between period where old ortho-
doxies are dying, new ones have yet to be born, and very few things seem to make sense”
and this being the result of the forces of complexity, chaos and contradictions “shaping
and propelling” it (Sardar, 2010, pp. 435–436). He then collaborates with fellow futurist
John Sweeney to propose a three-tomorrow framework so as to clarify the nature and ex-
tent of the complexity, uncertainty and chaotic behaviour that confront society (Sardar &
Sweeney, 2016). Though Sardar and Sweeney’s theorizing efforts are targeted at policymak-
ers, the three futurist time frames can helpfully frame our discussion and better position
our insights later.
Dealing with the prospects of Postnormal Times, the three tomorrows (3T) that Sardar
and Sweeney define are Extended Present, Familiar Future and Unthought Future, each
characterized by surface uncertainty, shallow uncertainty and deep uncertainty respec-
tively. These three horizons are co-existent and deeply interconnected. According to the
co-authors, the systems and phenomena in all three tomorrows have the potential to go
postnormal. It is not of direct relevance for our purpose to go into other details of the 3T
framework such as the types of postnormal phenomenon or phases of postnormality. A
general awareness of the three horizons and how they relate to our perception of the future
would suffice.
378  Eddy Chong
Our First Step: Inspiration from “Giant Steps”
Let us zoom back at Coltrane and his music. What inspiration may we draw from this leg-
endary man and his “Giant Steps”? The title of his 1959 album actually holds the key to
what we are looking for. This titular step is generally taken to be a metaphor for the (under-
lying) major-third tonal movements in his famed 16-bar chord-progression matrix but this
harmonic scheme also represents one of his musical breakthrough steps – and not a small
one at that.2 What is worth unpacking is how he came to achieve this “giant step”, to bor-
row his metaphor, to radically transform himself from “a solid but journeyman player” to “a
monumental creative force” (Sullivan, 2013). And in this connection, how did he achieve
this feat soon after he overcame his heroin and alcohol addictions? What can we learn that
may be future-ready relevant? Surely, it is not tips on how to become more professional in
what we are already doing. To answer the question, I first consider what he achieved musi-
cally, then infer some relevant life lessons from what he did and went on to do subsequently.
What was Coltrane’s innovative move? Ingeniously, he took a standard Jazz lick II-V-I
and marry it to the element of symmetry that he was intrigued with, reportedly for its meta-
physical meaning as much as for its compositional potential (Sullivan, 2013). A conventional
handling of II-V-I could involve functional expansion, chord substitution, changes of har-
monic colours, or sequential generation by the circle of fifths or descending (diatonic) thirds
and the like, but Coltrane made this lick subservient to his major-third idea – one that is
antithetical to the inherently asymmetrical major-minor tonal system. He creates a16-bar
matrix that is hierarchically structured by two levels of major-third movements (Example 1,
colour-coded). The first chord of each four-bar unit moves through a first-level series of de-
scending major thirds: B-G-Eb-B. The first two of these initial chords each move through
two descending major thirds: B-G-Eb and G-Eb-B respectively. Four of these six chords
at the second level each in turn ascend a minor third. Coltrane then handles the latter two
initial chords (Eb-B) at the first level differently by making them part of a different major
third cycle (Eb-G-B-Eb) as if the latter were a pseudo level fused with the first.
Regardless, all these multi-level major third movements as well as the ascending minor
third ones can be disorienting to tonal ears. As if cognizant of this, Coltrane then compen-
sates for it by approaching each of the chords in B-G-Eb-B and in Eb- G-B- Eb with their
respective II-V-I, whose tonal familiarity thereby numerously provides some local tonal
orientation for the listener.3 This is Coltrane knowing both his art and his audience while
being innovative.
Example 1: sixteen-bar chord matrix in Coltrane’s “Giant Steps”

B D7 | G Bb7 | Eb | Am7 D7 |
G Bb7 | Eb F#7 | B | Fm7 Bb7 |
E b | Am7 D7 | G | C#m7 F#7 |
B | Fm7 Bb7 | Eb | C#m7 F#7 |

We back track now to understand what enabled Coltrane to achieve this “compositional”
feat, which though traceable to 19th-century Romantic harmonies is novel to Jazz in the
late 1950s.4 What had equipped him for this? In his interview with the Down Beat magazine,
he revealed what and how he learnt from Miles Davies: “Just listening to the beauty of his
playing opens up doors … Miles has shown me possibility in choosing substitutions within
a chord and also new progressions” (quoted in “John Coltrane – Giant Steps,” 2009–2010).5
Coltrane must have brought to bear the Jazz theory that he had learnt systematically from,
among others, his mentor Dennis Sandole in the immediate post-war period (1946–early
1950s). This grounding, in turn, must have put him in good stead to learn from Thelonius
 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”  379
Monk “through the senses, theoretically, technically” (quoted in “John Coltrane – Giant
Steps,” 2009–2010). Coupled with his own intellectual (and spiritual) curiosity and perhaps
not without a good measure of intrepidity, he eventually conceived of this innovative “giant
step”.
Another detail in the way he was learning from Monk is equally pertinent, namely
by talking to Monk about musical problems (“John Coltrane – Giant Steps,” 2009–
2010). Coltrane’s learning approach would sit well with our present-day valuing of
problem-solving skills as one of the key 21st century competencies and, in turn, the
foregrounding of problem-based learning in our education system (Becker et al., 2018;
UNESCO, 2015). If “Giant Steps” is Coltrane’s solution to a harmonic “problem” that
he had been racking his brain on in his post-addiction musical quest, his free-jazz
approach could be seen as what came out of his concern with structural aspects of
improvisation in the decade that followed, culminating in his posthumously released
“Interstellar Space”. I submit that it is this inquisitive and restless artistic disposition,
coupled with the intensity with which he acted that enabled him to move with the times
and even to be a leader of change.6
The picture would not be complete if in spotlighting Coltrane’s series of innovative strides
as an improvisor/composer, we do not mention his conscientious efforts as a performer.
Here, Coltrane was an equally keen – in fact, intense – learner. Early in his career, he was
already well known for his incessant practising to the point of being “obsessive” (Porter,
2000; Sullivan, 2013). It was his countless hours of working diligently and thoughtfully
through method books, even including those of Hanon and Czerny for the piano, that
laid the foundation for his impressive achievements as a performer and improviser. As a
saxophonist, he had started on the clarinet before picking up the alto saxophone, but soon
he went on to establish his reputation as a virtuosic tenor saxophonist.7 He subsequently
brought the soprano sax back into the limelight and elevated its status with his rendition of
“My Favourite Things” (1960). Just before that, he had picked up new tricks from Monk
to begin thrilling his audience with his multiphonics, starting with his 1959 recording of
“Harmonique”. In our present-day context, he would have been upheld as a model lifelong
learner. He certainly knew his horn and applied himself tirelessly to overcome technical
barriers and push expressive boundaries.8 All these would not have been possible had he not
achieved a strong foundation through conscientious hard work.9
On the psychological front, there is one important success factor that we may tease out
from Coltrane’s life. It is kudos to Coltrane that when his rising career was halted, almost
derailed, by his alcoholism and drug addiction, he was able to pull himself out of this
quickly enough and to go on to achieve, in his own words, “a richer, fuller, more pro-
ductive life” (quoted in Porter, 2000, pp. 436–437). His being fired by Davies in 1957 did
not send him into any downward psychological spiral, but (fortunately for him and for us)
resulted in a good wake-up call, and it did not take long for him to be back in action. His
remarkable determination and resilience here is as important as all the above-mentioned
personal attributes as a creative musician.10
Finally, we should not overlook Coltrane’s humanistic side, which at least is in part the
result of his spiritual awakening:

When you begin to see the possibilities of music, you desire to do something really
good for people, to help humanity free itself from its hangups. I think music can make
the world better and, if I’m qualified, I want to do it.
(quoted in Porter, 2000, p. 443)

His widow Alice confirmed this as much:

380  Eddy Chong
‘I want to use my instrument for good in the world,’ he would say. ‘Let it be an instru-
ment for good – an instrument for peace.’
(Fordham, 2001)

While such a humanistic nature in itself will not translate into future readiness, I would
later make the point that in preparing the next generation to be future-ready, we cannot
ignore this dimension in their education.

Environmental Scan
Having looked back at Coltrane with a spotlight on his “Giant Steps”, we now survey our
21st century musical world. In Sardar and Sweeney’s terms, we now attempt to seek an
understanding of this present-day world to identify its Extended Present and the Familiar
Future, and ascertain if our insights from Coltrane might be relevant enough. With this
end in mind, we enter the world of two musicians – that of Second Life and of the virtual
choir arena.

Being Musician in Second Life (SL)

Second LifeTM was one of the first sophisticated virtual environments created in the first
decade of our present century. Musicians could “have a life” in this virtual space to en-
gage in a whole range of activities, music-related or otherwise, that parallels what the real
world offers but SL arguably promises to offer more. Some musicians have inevitably been
attracted to this virtual environment as an exciting new space for novel and alternative
forms of performances, for collaborations or networking that are not bound by physical
distances, and, of course, to create new markets for their musical wares, be it music creative
works, performances or music-related services (Hall, 2011). Music educators have also been
attracted by the new platforms and the new modes of engagement that it offers ( Jacka &
Hill, 2013; Partti & Karlsen, 2010; Schwartz, 2009).11
There is an interesting parallel between entering the world of Second Life as a newbie
and the present-day musician being thrown into the upheaved world of COVID-19. In both
cases, they find themselves in an environment that is co-constructed or being constructed
by multiple players in a less-than-ideal coordinated manner, or in some areas essentially
uncoordinated at all. Many traditional or conventional activities may still be possible but
would need to be reconceived – or, shall we say, are “inviting” re-inventions – to create an
“in-world”/“new normal” experience that satisfies people’s needs and expectations. In the
SL emerging landscape, this is partly done through one’s avatar or persona as both an active
and passive player; in our COVID-hit world, it would be through the much constrained
agency that musicians manage to exercise – or creatively acquire for themselves. Either
landscape therefore engender their respective Extended Presents and Familiar Futures that
could potentially impact how music activities and careers may take shape.
With this at the back of our mind, let us now take some lessons from the virtual artist Seli
Blackmore, a by-now 12-year SL “veteran”. She created a self-help video in 2020 on how
to do music live-streaming in SL (Blackmore, 2020, July-b). She is upfront about the need
for technical “knowhow”: there are live-streaming hardware and software that one would
need to have and know how to use. She points to the need to know how to navigate in SL
space and to know where to live-stream from. Then there are technicalities like setting up
the virtual stage for oneself. Finally, one cannot overlook promotional efforts unless one
does not mind performing to an empty virtual hall. Here, a certain social media savviness
in the real world is evidently called for to market oneself in SL. Blackmore, for example,
 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”  381
markets her music wares on multiple platforms: from more conventional social media plat-
forms like personal blog, Facebook, Flickr, Instagram, Twitter account and wexsite, to
more specifically SL-supporting platforms like bandsintown.com, SLE News Source, mu-
sicspeaksmanagement.net and a long list of others.
Beyond the above technicalities and savviness, there are also demands on a more personal
level. She opens by candidly sharing how she initially struggled but eventually overcomes
her fear of the technical aspects. For choosing the kinds of music to live-stream, using her-
self as an example, she emphasizes the need to know one’s musical preferences and strengths
as a performing musician – what kind(s) of music and which instrument(s) to perform as
well as what and how one wants to express oneself as a musician. Towards the end of her
sharing, she sagaciously cautions her prospective SL live streamers to be prepared to manage
the physical and emotional demands of catering to an international audience who will be
watching the live-streamed performances in their respective time zones.
Taking another reflective step back, one may note another learning point – the paradigm of
peer-to-peer teaching. This self-help video exemplifies someone with certain expertise and
relevant experiences willing to share with whoever is interested. In the video itself, there is
a very helpful segment in which Blackmore’s SL persona takes her viewers into SL space to
show them where to do live-streaming, and advises them on how to choose a live-streaming
platform. At one point, it looks as if her “live” guided tour is going to “crash” as she teleports,
but, unruffled, she turns it into a teachable moment by verbalizing her thoughts as she tries to
tackle the technical issue encountered. What we witness is not so much the sage on the stage,
but someone who is perhaps just a little more knowledgeable and experienced than her audi-
ence, but no less vulnerable in such an environment, yet still willing to share. It is a moment
of improvisation, albeit of a different kind that Coltrane engages in on a day-to-day basis.
We see, then, that both Coltrane and our SL artist have a certain “dare-to” spirit. They
are of course armed with their respective professional knowledge, including self-­k nowledge,
and self-management skills. They have also betrayed a certain humanistic motivation to-
wards helping others. In the case of Blackmore, she offered a number of similar self-help
tips for fellow SL users (Blackmore, 2020, August, 2020, July-a, 2021, January). Unlike for
Coltrane, however, we know little about Blackmore except that she is USA-born singer/
songwriter who is now based in Sweden and has found a way to monetize her musical and
gaming skills. Whatever her musical upbringing and general education, she has remained
active during these pandemic months.

Being a Virtual Choir “Conductor”

Our next case study takes us to the world of the virtual choir. One of the new skills that
many conductors suddenly had to contend with because of the pandemic disruption is
“conducting” a virtual choir. Technical skills aside, this new paradigm of music making
calls for a very different mindset. Here, instead of getting into the technical details, we shall
examine the learning journey of the virtual choir “guru” who stumbled into a then as-yet-
created musical arena over ten years ago. The American choral composer-cum-conductor
Eric Whitacre has shared on numerous occasions how it all started unexpectedly with a fan
video he received in 2009 (BBC, 2020; Caprino, 2020; Whitacre, 2010, 2011). His initial
thought to himself is of interest to us:

If I could somehow get 25 people doing what Britlin was doing, singing their part –
Soprano, Alto, Tenor, and Bass – we could create a virtual choir. As long as they were
singing in the same key and in the same tempo, the same speed.
(Caprino, 2020)
382  Eddy Chong
Whitacre asked the “what if ” question, and drew on his professional knowledge of what it
would take – at least, to begin with – to do it.12 Without the need for a pandemic trigger,
he was alert to the creative opportunity.
What he has since typically gone on to share is how he sees his virtual choir project. What
comes across is his artistic eye as he speaks of seeing “the poetry of the virtual choir” and
how the whole production process brings people all over the world together in a “beautiful
way” (Caprino, 2020). The latter remark betrays an artistic eye that is equally humanistic.
For him, singing in a choir is a deeply human activity; the magnitude of his virtual choir
hugely magnifies this awe-inspiring experience, even if different from physically singing
in a choir, of being “part of something much larger than yourself ” – what for him, when
he first encountered choral singing, was a life-changing experience (BBC, 2020). Little
surprise then that during the COVID-19 lockdown period, he responded with a choral
piece entitled “Sing gently”. It brought together 45,000 singers from 145 countries, and
eventually over 17,000 singers from 129 countries, with age ranging from 5 to 88! recorded
for the final track (https://ericwhitacre.com/the-virtual-choir/about).
More than Coltrane and Blackmore, the humanistic side of Whitacre, perhaps precipitated
by that life-changing experience of singing in Mozart’s Requiem, coupled with his own ar-
tistic creativity and his willingness to accept Scott Haines’s offer of help, meant that he had
unwittingly “prepared” himself for the present pandemic disruption. His partnership with
Haines has indeed led to numerous great co-creations including the moving videographic
conception for “Sing gently”. Whitacre’s most recent career move is the establishment of a
virtual school in the third quarter of 2021. One can well imagine his what-if creative dis-
position in part influencing this decision to diversify his career in the post-­pandemic world
where learning in the digital space is becoming integral to the new-normal educational
landscape. In this regard, he has the same kind of entrepreneurial spirit as Seli Blackmore.

Educating the Next Generation: Learning from the Digital Musician

The present pandemic has drawn many musicians – and with them, their circles – into the
virtual space. However, the digital world of music is not new. If one were interested in
what the future landscape for musicians would be like 20, 30 years from now, one can be
certain that technology will continue to play an integral role. Even if there were a backlash
to the present advancement towards digitalization and AI-driven technologies, turning
back is most unlikely: there might have been nostalgic sentiments towards nature during
the first industrial revolution, and an “unplug” phase in more recent times, but the wheel of
change will not roll backwards in any permanent way. So we can have some confidence in
extrapolating from the more recent past for the more immediate future. To understand the
“extended present” and the “familiar future”, Andrew Hugill’s work on the digital musi-
cian more than a decade ago (Hugill, 2008) can offer a broader base for identifying salient
elements of future readiness.
From the rich well of insights in Hugill’s study is his important message that the emer-
gence of the digital musician meant a change in music education: “a digital musician will
benefit from education in a wide range of areas, and not just ‘music’” (197). By “not just
‘music’”, he does not throw formal music education out of the window even though he
recognizes that academic study of music – and certainly of classical music – is no longer a
necessity to be a good and successful musician. He notes that universities have begun to
respond with a common approach of bridging any gaps in musical or technological educa-
tion during the first year. He sees this as an “opening up” of the curriculum, an alignment
between education and the real-world practice, rather than an outright rejection of the
traditional curriculum (198). Ultimately, the end product of the education process is not
 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”  383
digital musicians per se, but “musicians for whom the digital technologies are just as famil-
iar as conventional acoustic music technologies” and who will then “be responsible for the
growth of new forms and new musical experiences” (198).
As part of his study, Hugill interviewed a good spectrum of digital musicians from across
four continents, covering the Americas (including Canada), Europe (including North Eu-
rope), and Asia ( Japan). Two of the questions asked are particularly relevant for us here:

What skills and attributes do you consider to be essential for you as a digital musician?
Do you have any other useful or relevant things to say about being a digital musician
today?

The answers from the musicians are of little surprise to us, but when collated thematically
and examined from our present perspective, they nonetheless yield useful insights for music
educators. Table 32.1 lists some key attributes, categorized, that may inform music educa-
tors’ curricular aims and content for their students. These attributes are elucidated in the
ensuing paragraphs.
Oswald Berthold is a great example of a digital musician with an open mind. He sees
himself as “a student in many disciplines”, drawing inspiration from a wide range of sources
ranging from movies to various arts and sciences to electronic and hacker culture as well as
what he calls “other unworldly terrain”. It is therefore no surprise that when asked about
the essential skills and attributes for a digital musician, he includes curiosity, persistence
and humour (200). Many other composers interviewed by Hugill also speak of working at
cross-disciplinary junctures in multifarious ways, and, in relation to that, with a collabora-
tive spirit (212, 225).
But, on the personal front, though “an open mind is the principal attribute”, to quote
Julio d’Escriván (203), that in itself is not sufficient, there needs to be perseverance when
exploring or experimenting, and one can see how a sense of humour can be helpful to keep
one going when the going gets tough or when setbacks occur. Liz McLean Knight, the
self-proclaimed multi-hyphenate composer behind Quantazelle, however, suggests “doing
things that are musically fun” even as she stresses the importance of commitment and being
goal orientated (217).
At the same time, many do also recognize the need for disciplinary mastery, hence the
need for practice, even for digital musicians (202, 209). When, for example, Randall Packer
speaks of “the ability to integrate ideas with technical skills” (214), the technical skills must
of course be at one’s disposal. Relevant music theories – including tradition music theory
(207) – are also necessary. Nick Collins, for example, lists “psychoacoustics, DSP, discrete
math, representations/formalisms” and various electronic platform and software skills as

Table 32.1  Some common attributes of digital musicians

Mindset Disciplinary Foundation Breadth

Open mindedness What is musical? Broad range of conventional

Explorative disposition, Music theories and modern-day digital
curiosity “spirit of Music technology musical knowledge and skills
experimentation and Multi- and interdisciplinarity
innovation” (203)
Creative outlook
Embrace challenges
Perseverance
Willing/keen to collaborate
384  Eddy Chong
the “electronic musician’s music theory” (202). Thor Magnusson adds sound physics, digi-
tal signal processing, algorithmic composition, machine learning, signal analysis and other
generative approaches to our list. Atau Tanaka similarly advocates going beyond the con-
ventional music-vocational skillset in similar ways (227).
This list can go on but what is ultimately needed is a sustained interest in continual
learning in order to keep up with new musical software, related digital skills and whatever
new competencies that the ever-evolving marketplace calls for. One interviewee Kaffe
Matthews pushes himself with “constant questing” – “always looking and listening and
thinking and challenging and proposing and moving” (211). Others even speak of “finding
the ‘edges’ of the medium” (221), pushing the boundaries of technology (225), or “to escape
the normal, pre-set paths that are offered to us at all times” (230).
Ultimately, as John Richards sums it up, “being a digital musician is not just about the
practical application of technology but also a way of being or thinking” (221). Taking a step
back, we then see that whatever the particular technical knowledge or skills that may be
identified to be relevant, what cannot be missing when trying to future-proof a musician is
a certain professional identity or being that must be appropriately developed in the process
of learning or training. One should also add that this identity (and being) formation needs
fortification. As part of the training process, learning to work with constraints can be a
relevant step towards preparing musicians for the worst of situations. Martyn Ware’s tip is
worth noting:

Make it hard for yourself. Limit your palette even. Deliberately limiting yourself can
enable more unique creations.
(230)

Such Spartan mental disciplining can go a long way towards future-proofing the musician
against unforeseen challenges or roadblocks that may come later in their career: if working
within constraints has become second nature and indeed a welcome thing, adversities are
then cast in positive light as triggers for creative solutions.

Our Small Step: Concluding Remarks

If the author of the Jazzwise feature article on Giant Steps has aptly concluded with the
perspicuous remark about the Jazz master’s “questing musical curiosity forging a musical
path that celebrated musical style as a process, not an arrival point” (“John Coltrane – ­Giant
Steps,” 2009–2010), we may say the same here, that critical to being future-ready for any
professional musician would mean not just having a creative mindset and the relevant tech-
nical competence, but also a certain ever-questing spirit, daring to take risk, and never rest-
ing on one’s laurels. Getting a professional qualification, whether formally or non-­formally,
must be but only one accomplished step in an on-going process of lifelong learning and
transformation. For transformation to take place, one must be able and willing to reframe
or adopt new lenses as new learning takes place. If Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” has at least in
part been a reframing of jazz harmonies through the lens of geometry, if not also its as-
sociated mysticism,13 the modern-day professional musician would do well to develop an
adeptness to reframe “problems”.
Equally important is not losing sight of one’s musical identity. Recall Seli Blackmore’s
point about knowing one’s musical self. In the case of Coltrane, it has also been noted that,
for all his avid assimilation of ideas and relentless innovations, his music is “anchored … in
the deep soulful sound of the blues” (Porter, 2000, p. 440). He once said that
 Taking a Leaf from “Giant Steps”  385
My music is the spiritual expression of what I am – my faith, my knowledge, my
being….
(quoted in Porter, 2000, p. 443)

Last but not least, when the co-editors of Expanding Professionalism in Music and Higher
Music Education identified game-changing as “an essential element of professionalism in
contemporary contexts”, they highlighted the need for “the fundamental creative, moral,
and civilising dimensions of the arts” (Gaunt & Westerlund, 2022, p. xiii). It is remarkable
that Coltrane in making some game-changing moves more than once within the world of
Jazz – with “Giant Steps” (1960), “Love Supreme” (1965) and “Ascension” (1967, published
posthumously) – he was also consciously attempting to exercise his social responsibility as
a musician.14 This dimension cannot be over-emphasized when educating the next genera-
tion. The art is very much the soul of society, our musical endeavours and enterprises; even
as we struggle to find out our feet when the ground below us is moving and perhaps even
giving way, humanity will be poorer if we succeed in our survival but lose sight of who we
are as humanity.
Our three focal personalities have in their respective worlds and in different ways demon-
strated a certain future readiness for what would at best be regarded as the Extended Present
and Familiar Future. While we have not identified any role model of future readiness for
the Unthought Future, we may perhaps surmise that if one can be future-ready for the first
two “tomorrows”, the disruptive impact would be much softened should the third “tomor-
row” suddenly burst onto the scene. As such, the steps towards preparedness for the first two
“tomorrows” can be advocated as an important small yet effective step towards readiness for
the third “tomorrow”.

Questions for Consideration

1 In contrast with the 19th-century paradigm of individualistic creativity, the way for-
ward in the 21st century is one which prizes collaborative efforts; Burnard (2012) has
underscored the social dimension of musical creativity and challenged us to broaden
our conceptualization. In a small way, this chapter has also alluded to collaborative
elements – of different kinds and to varying extent – in the creativities of Coltrane,
Blackmore, and Whitacre, and certainly of the community of digital musicians Hugill
interviewed: how would the examples here impact the way you would nurture creativ-
ity in the next generation?
2 Collectively, do you agree with the spectrum of creativities surfaced in this chapter as
being relevant and perhaps sufficient at least for the Extended Present and Familiar Fu-
ture? What would be a possible list of desired creativity-relevant attributes if you were
to draw one up for your local context?
3 One casualty in the present COVID-19 pandemic is the mental well-being of people.
Coltrane demonstrated a certain remarkable resilience, whereas Hugill’s pool of digital
musicians offers us various coping and preparatory strategies. How would you incor-
porate any of these into your curriculum? Would John Kratus’s approach to teaching
songwriting (Chapter 22) add another dimension to our teaching here? Or, how would
Randles’s (2020, 2022) modern-day application of the Aristotelian Eudaimonia expand
the embodied learning for our students as they engage in their creativity learning, in-
cluding in the virtual worlds?
4 The need for lifelong learning beyond the formal schooling years has never been more
acutely felt in the intersecting wake of COVID-19 and of accelerated digitalization.
Lloyd McArton (Chapter 17) reminds us of the financial realities that musicians face,
386  Eddy Chong
and these cannot be more real during the present pandemic. Will a focus on equipping
students with extramusical creativity undermine what we need to achieve in the areas
of musical creativity given the constraints of our curricular space and time?
5 Coltrane’s desire for his instrument to be “for good” prompts us to think of our educa-
tor’s “instrument” – namely, teaching – being “for good” too. In this connection, con-
sider Lauren Kapalka Richerme’s discussion, inspired by Elizabeth Anderson’s work, on
communicative and artistic cultural capital (Chapter 3). Have we inadvertently created
or reinforced inequity in our teaching practice? At what price are we prepared to pay to
equip our students adequately with “academic skills cultural capital” so that their acquired
future readiness would not be undermined by their lack of any of these cultural capitals?

Notes
1 This view of this Jazz classic may be a gendered one and one no longer even shared by the younger
generation of saxophonists these days, as the Norwegian saxophonist Petter Wettre notes (“John
­Coltrane – Giant Steps,” 2009–2010).
2 On Coltrane’s fascination with thirds, Steve Sullivan (2013) cites biographer Lewis Porter who traces
it back to the bridge of the Rodger and Hart 1937 song Have You Met Miss Jones, and possibly Art
Tatum’s rendition of this song. Porter also points to Coltrane’s interest in the spiritual mysticism of
the “magic triangle” that links major thirds in a circle of fifths as an additional possible motivation.
3 Even at a deeper level, in the words of one Jazz analyst, “Thirds-related progressions weaken a piece’s
tonality, but not so much that an overall tonic and supporting series of [Schenkerian] structural levels
cannot be inferred” (Martin, 2012–2013, p. 187).
4 Major-third cycle is one important hallmark of 19th-century harmonic practice (Bribitzer-Stull,
2006).
5 We know that Miles Davies himself had stressed the importance of Jazz musicians having a strong
knowledge of theory and that relying solely on the ear will not take one far enough; this was im-
pressed upon him by Dizzy Gillespie (Adams, 2020).
6 For a comparative account of Davies and Coltrane as “two intrepid jazz men” with “a gnawing hunger to
learn, to change and to hone their craft”, see “Miles Davies and John Coltrane – Yin and Yang” (2001).
7 Davies reportedly said that hiring Coltrane was like hiring a three-in-one saxophonist.
8 Coltrane has been said to have “revolutionised jazz instrumentally, harmonically and rhythmically”
(“John Coltrane – Giant Steps,” 2009–2010).
9 That practice is key is certainly a well-recognized pedagogical dictum. Jazz guitarist-cum-educator
Corey Christiansen recommends “good ol’ fashioned practice” as the only way to master Coltrane’s
“Giant Steps”; after explaining the organizational structure of Coltrane’s matrix, he then suggests a
sequence of exercises for the interested novice (Christiansen, 2005). This in effect is similar to how
bassist-cum-columnist for the Bass Player Magazine John Goldsby suggests to get this matrix “in your
ears and under your fingers” (Goldsby, 2006).
10 One may surmise that perhaps the financial and emotional hardship he had to tackle as a young teen-
ager when he became the sole male figure in his family might have built a certain resilience in him.
11 SL dedicated users averaged some 40,000 concurrent participants and it has sustained close to two
decades now.
12 Interestingly, Whitacre chose the title “What if ” for his UNICEF project for the youths in 2014.
13 For a useful commentary on Coltrane’s mathematical interest including his interest in Einstein in this
regard, see Jones (2017) and the hyperlinked articles to Roel Hollander’s blog articles (Hollander,
2017a, 2017b).
14 Charles Hersch (2019) has argued that Free Jazz is an expression of the political angst over freedom
and equality of the blacks in 1960s America.

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33 Creativities in Music and
Creativities through Music
Symbiotic Weaknesses in Greek-Cypriot
Primary Education
Stavros Makris, Graham Welch and Evangelos Himonides

Research on Creativities
An extensive list of researchers across a wide range of domains (e.g., Richardson & Saffle,
1983; Magyari-Beck, 1988; Running, 2008; Davies, Jindal-Snape, Collier, Digby, Hay, &
Howe, 2013; Bereczki & Kárpáti, 2017; Kaufman, Glaveanu, & Baer, 2017) has been in-
volved in the study of creativity ever since Guilford (1950) pointed to it as a worthwhile
topic for systematic research.
The research that has been undertaken in the area of creativity, or creativities (Burnard,
2012) as we explain below, within the last 60 years has focused on the so-called four “Ps”
framework (Rhodes, 1961): “person”, that is, the characteristics of creative individuals (e.g.,
Barron, 1955; MacKinnon, 1962; Vervalin, 1962; Dellas & Gaier, 1970; Barron & Harring-
ton, 1981; Rimm, Davis, & Bien, 1982; Feist, 1999; Helson, 1999; Selby, Shaw, & Houtz,
2005; Oleynick et al., 2017; Fürst & Grin, 2018); “place/press” (from pressures), that is, the
most suitable environment for nurturing creativity (e.g., Roe, 1952; Selby, Shaw, & Houtz,
2005; Meusburger, 2009; Chan & Yuen, 2014; Jensen, 2015; Richardson & Mishra, 2018;
Jankowska & Karwowski, 2019); the creative “process”, that is, the thinking about how
creative outcomes can be achieved (e.g., Wallas, 1926; Mednick, 1962; Amabile, 1983;
Finke, Ward & Smith, 1992; Runco & Chand, 1995; Simonton, 1999; Kozbelt, Beghetto, &
Runco, 2010); and “product”, that is, how an output is defined and assessed as creative
(e.g., Amabile, 1982; Hounchell, 1985; Besemer & O’Quin, 1986; Treffinger, 1996; Lubart,
1999; Plucker, Beghetto, & Dow, 2004; Matsunobu, 2007; Silvia et al., 2008; Odena, 2012;
Csikszentmihalyi, Abuhamdeh, & Nakamura, 2014; Fürst & Grin, 2018).
In a world, however, where “music takes myriad social forms” (Born, 2005, p. 7), the
numerous contemporary music creative practices (e.g., DJing, film and video game sound
designing and songwriting) and the wide diversity of the actors in the field that work to-
gether to create music, asserting of a single musical creativity for all musics is rather prob-
lematic. We thus advance the notion, argued by Burnard (2012), for conceptual expansion
of musical creativity, as “musical creativities assume many forms, and serve many diverse
functions, and are deeply embedded in the dynamic flux and mutation of a musician’s per-
sonal and sociocultural life” (p. 213). Such a view provides the foundation for advancing
new approaches to music education, to think and do differently as well as find new ways to
discuss different and diverse enactments and manifestations of music creativities.
Research has also recognised the important role that multiple musical creativities play
in human cultural, social and emotional development (e.g., Cropley, 1997; Hennessey &
Amabile, 2010; Jauk, Benedek, Dunst, & Neubauer, 2013; Rosenstock & Riordan, 2016;
Bakhshi, Downing, Osborne & Schneider, 2017; Frey & Osborne, 2017; Randles, 2020).
In particular, among the reported benefits of fostering students’ creativities are a more
balanced psychological functioning (Rasulzada & Dackert, 2009), greater academic success
(Gajda, Karwowski & Beghetto, 2017), a boost to students’ creative self-efficacy and, thus,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-38
390  Stavros Makris et al.
more positive self-beliefs about their academic abilities in all subject areas, as well as higher
levels of participation in after-school activities (Beghetto, 2006). In view of the foregoing,
educational discourses have highlighted the importance of creative performance (e.g., Jef-
frey & Craft, 2006) and suggest that sowing the seeds of creative activity in education is a
necessary, in fact, primary goal (Fisher, 2005).
Nevertheless, research has revealed also that there is a complex interplay between creativ-
ity and the degree to which this is recognised as an essential feature of teachers’ professional
roles (Burnard & White, 2008), with the diversity of creative practices being a neglected
aspect of education (Robinson, 2006; Berliner, 2011) resulting in a difficulty with regard
to their development in the classroom (Sternberg, 2015). This side-lining of creativities in
customary music education practice and the related struggles that music teachers encoun-
ter in the school environment are discussed in this chapter, based on findings (Makris,
Welch & Himonides, 2021) that suggest that there is a relatively unsophisticated, or to put
it more bluntly, inappropriate conception and use of music in the Greek-Cypriot Primary
education.

Creativities in Education
Creativity in society and the economy has been described as “the driving force that moves
civilisation forward” ( Jauk, Benedek, Dunst, & Neubauer, 2013, p. 213) and “as a major
driver of economic growth and prosperity (…) [in] realising human potential” (Hodges,
2004, p. 15). Universities from all around the world have also recognised creativity as
an important attribute for a successful professional career and thus as an essential factor
for a business’ long-term growth. Perhaps unsurprisingly, political speeches have also her-
alded the value of creative thinking in economies, society, communities and education
(Katz-Buonincontro, 2012).
It should not be surprising then that initiatives for nurturing creativities in education
flourished in several countries in the latter part of the 20th century (Woods et al., 1997),
along with the emergence of economic globalisation. Curricular and instructional reforms,
designed with a common objective to promote (more) creativity by pupil and teacher, have
been suggested (e.g., Randles, 2013; Kaschub & Smith, 2014), or enacted with the aim of
raising creativity as a new standard in education (Grigorenko, 2019). A prime example of
the outcome of that reformation period was the reported “creative decade” in England –
the opening decade of the new century, “characterised by growth in creativity practices”
(Craft et al., 2014, p. 16) and matched with “proliferation of research, systematic reviews
and reports on creative teaching and learning” (Burnard & White, 2008, p. 670). This dec-
ade was in response to the new UK Labour Government’s initiative in 1998 to set up the
National Advisory Committee on Creative and Cultural Education (NACCCE). This led
to a ground-breaking report the following year (NACCCE, 1999) which argued that “no
education system can be world-class without valuing and integrating creativity in teaching
and learning, in the curriculum, in management and leadership and without linking this to
promoting knowledge and understanding of cultural change and diversity” (p. 16).
Topics that attracted most of the research discussion during that period included the
concept of creativity, the demystification of the perception that creative performance in
any field is only for geniuses, the creative process, as well as how to nurture and measure
children’s potential for creative thinking (Kaufman & Sternberg, 2007; Mi et al., 2020).
Despite the growing interest in creativity in general, and for advancing it in education in
particular, a number of challenges to its implementation in education have been identified.
In fact, an uneasy relationship between institution-based education and creativity has been
noticed. For example, Maley and Kiss (2018) have warned about over-prescriptive as well
 Creativities in Music and Creativities through Music  391
as centralised approaches to teaching and learning that threaten to extinguish engagement
with creativity, as well as banish creative activity. Concerns have also been raised about
terminology, conflicts in policy and practice, curriculum constraints and pedagogical ap-
proaches (cf Craft, 2003). Despite all the initiatives and research in praise of creativity, its
realisation in educational systems continues to be uneven at best, or missing at worst (Piirto,
2004; Robinson, 2006; Bronson & Merryman, 2010).
Having laid out an introductory picture of general interest and research activity in crea-
tivities in education in recent decades, including an assessment of the challenges and limits
to prioritising it in education, in what follows we examine the context of music as a subject
in the Greek-Cypriot education, thus setting the ground for the purpose of this chapter.

Music in the Greek-Cypriot Primary Education

The Ministry of Education and Culture is financially and legally responsible for the Cy-
prus Educational System (Tsiakkiros, 2005). A school’s leadership and management is the
responsibility of the Head Teacher, whose role is to be supportive to staff and students,
holding progressive academic beliefs and views, while also acknowledging and considering
the views of the community (Tsiakkiros, 2005). By “views of the community” one should
also understand the “parents’ expectations concerning the aims, style and significance of
school celebrations” (Forari, 2005, p. 21). In fact, the importance given to the views of
the community can affect significantly music teachers’ responsibilities and duties, as they
are expected to present music programmes for every formal and informal school event or
­extra-curricular activity (see below).
Music in the Greek-Cypriot education is compulsory for the six grades of Primary Ed-
ucation and, as far as official policy is concerned, it aims to provide children with musi-
cal knowledge as well as with the cultivation of skills, values, attitudes and behaviours,
through practical, experiential musical activities of listening, performing and creating mu-
sic (MoEC, 2021).
Regarding the content of Primary music education, the music curriculum mentions that
the subject of music seeks to familiarise students with local and global music cultures. Hav-
ing this as a goal, students are invited to learn about music of various genres and styles, the
socio-cultural contexts and the representative composers of each style and era. In particular,
there are five suggested thematic areas (Greek and Cypriot music, World music, Western
music, Popular music, and Music and other art forms) from which teachers may draw con-
tent to develop their own teaching units (MoEC, 2021).
As for specific references to musical creativity in policy documents, while there is frequent
use of the term in the Music Curriculum (MoEC, 2021), the case with the Greek-Cypriot
Primary education echoes Odena’s (2012) remark that creativity is often used to describe
(1) improvisation and composition activities, where students learn by making music by
themselves, instead of just imitating them, and (2) a desirable way of thinking, referring
specifically to critical thinking.
Finally, a diversity in music teacher backgrounds that Wong (2010) identified in her
study appears alto to apply in the context of Greek-Cypriot Primary public education. In
particular, music teachers can be classified into (1) those who studied general education at
university, yet because of their already established music knowledge, they choose to teach
music only; (2) those who studied general education and who may occasionally teach mu-
sic (for example, when there is a need for someone to teach the subject because there is no
colleague in their schools who is specialised in music); and (3) those who studied music only
and who may not have any formal academic background in education and thus only teach
music. The plurality of these music teachers, and the resulting diversity of individual beliefs,
392  Stavros Makris et al.
personal and professional perspectives, contributes to an “a la carte” interpretation of the
music curricula (Forari, 2005) and the ways that teachers perceive creativity (Makris, 2021).
However, even though researchers have studied music teachers’ perceptions of creativity
(e.g., Odena, 2003; Fairfield, 2010; Zbainos & Anastasopoulou, 2012; Snell, 2013; Ran-
dles & Muhonen, 2015; Randles & Ballantyne, 2018; Randles & Tan, 2019), an important
question yet to be asked is, to what extent does the school environment influence music
teachers’ approaches in their efforts to develop students’ musical creativities? In fact, despite
the significant amount of research in the field, there are limited qualitative studies focusing
on how music teachers, as key agents in the effort of “instilling a creative identity in the
lives of music students” (Randles, 2012, abstract), approach musical creativities in practice.
We argue that making music teachers’ implicit experiences of the school environment ex-
plicit may contribute to our overall understanding of how musical creativities can better be
fostered in music education. Thus, the purpose of this chapter is to offer a ­comprehensive –
even if limited – picture of the relationship between Primary music teachers and their
school environments in the Greek-Cypriot Primary Education.

Methods
The data on which this chapter is based were collected from interviews with ten music teach-
ers, using a video elicitation technique (VET) (Jewitt, 2012). Drawing upon other researchers’
work (Silvers, 1977; Lennon, 1996; Odena, 2001a), whose methodology involved video-­
recorded practices of their participants, the participants in this study discussed their experiences
in relation to creativity, commenting on video vignettes (Hazel, 1995). We explored their
perspectives of the phenomenon in relation to four areas: (1) the “person”, that is, the charac-
teristics of students and teachers that they considered to be creative; (2) the “process”, that is,
the practices and activities that teachers seek to apply to the learning environment in order to
nurture creativity, as well as their approaches to assessing students’ creativity; (3) the “product/
output”, that is, how they define a creative output; and (4) the “place/environment”, that is,
how the school environment influences the students and their creativity in music education.
The participants were purposefully selected according to the needs of the study (Morse,
1991), based on their educational and professional backgrounds. Hence, because of the di-
verse types of music teachers in Greek-Cypriot Primary Education, the participants who
were invited to share their experience in the present study were thus selected in order to
draw from the three respective groups described above. This gave us the opportunity to
look at the phenomenon of creativity from different perspectives.

Validity
In order to produce consistent results, the study was engaged in the following validation
techniques: peer debriefing and external auditing with external researchers in order to
assess the accuracy of the analysis and the results. Triangulation was achieved through
corroborating evidence from the participants’ interviews and the supplementary materials,
which they considered to be creative, and they were invited to bring with them in the in-
terview process (e.g., audio and video samples).

This approach set the participants’ perceptions, grounded in actual examples, and
formed the starting points for the discussions to gain insight into the meanings behind
the activities of their choices, which carried implicit theories and views of what were
perceived to be really meaningful for them.
(Makris, 2019, p. 94)
 Creativities in Music and Creativities through Music  393
Analyses and Results
The research analyses of the data consisted of seven phases (cf Colaizzi, 1978): (1) familiar-
isation with the data; (2) identification of significant statements; (3) formulation of mean-
ings; (4) generation of themes; (5) exhaustive description; (6) formulation of a fundamental
structure, that is, condensation of participants’ description to short and dense statements
that captured the essential aspects of the phenomenon; and (7) verification of this funda-
mental structure by inviting the participants to validate the findings.
The analyses revealed that the pedagogical practice of music education in the Greek-­
Cypriot Primary Education appears to suffer from several weaknesses. First, the subject of
music within the curriculum is reported to be undervalued and, second, for that it seems to
be exploited as a reflection of the quality of the school services. As a consequence, there is a
reported perception of insufficient time for music teaching, and pressure on music teachers
and students to focus more on the output of music activities for the annual special events.
For example, Participant 1 mentioned: “Music as a subject is not taken seriously by
parents and consequently by the head teachers. Greater attention is paid, even by parents,
to subjects such as maths and Greek language”. This emerged also in the interview with
Participant 8:

I’ve been fortunate enough to work and collaborate, with no problem, with my col-
leagues and with the students […]. I know, however, as I am the President of the Sec-
toral Music Committee, that many colleague musicians have had problems with other
colleagues, [e.g., ] they underestimate their work, their time spent, their output, [….]
but, each teacher thinks of his own subject: “OK, your subject [music] is not that im-
portant, they will not need it in their lives.”

The fact that music is considered inferior to other subjects was also raised in the discussion
with Participant 2:

It takes time, if you work properly, to appreciate that your subject is important. […]
Also, when they [colleagues] see your first or second [school] performance or observe
your lesson then, they realise “OK there is something here” and my experience has
shown that, year after year, I mean the first year they may see you as “She is the music
teacher, she will fulfil our needs” and then they start appreciating you.

Participant 3, however, explained the situation from a different point of view:

[T]eachers, particularly of the third or the fourth grades onwards, feel [in] awe because
it is the subject that you can’t teach with no knowledge. […] And, as a music teacher, I
have had very good [and] positive experiences, a very good approach and respect from
colleagues. […], but I have been working hard for it. What I’ve heard about others [is
that] they don’t talk the same about everyone […]. So they respect you according to the
work you do.

It can be argued, therefore, that music, as a subject, presents particular challenges. For
example, in a performance-based context, those educators with limited music knowledge
are likely to be in a disadvantageous position with respect to teaching music and preparing
students for school ceremonies, as the performance of the school choir and/or orchestra is
seen as a reflection of the music teacher’s capabilities and on which they (music teachers) are
judged. Audience attendance was reported to cause great pressure for Participant 9:
394  Stavros Makris et al.
Parents will attend [the events] and […] the music teacher will not be relaxed. He
has to achieve, to produce a high standard, ‘worth-listening-to’ piece of music; so he
will not include in the choir and the orchestra [any] second category [musically weak]
students [...]. They [students] think that we are being video-recorded now; and many
times it happens that we see ourselves on YouTube and, personally, I carefully try not
to listen to them; honestly, I can’t stand it. I will find mistakes, it’s impossible that I
will not. […] [T]he fact that parents attend adds another dimension, it’s as if you are
then on air.

Participant 10 also said that she took great care in order to achieve a worthwhile result and
so avoid any possible criticism or questioning of her abilities:

I try not to end up there, [that is] to have a bad result. […] I know it’s stressful, it’s very
stressful, but I try in every way that I can, that is, I may go back and forth from one
school to another to have the students rehearse again and again with the students, or
to present in such a way so there is a good result. Personally, I’ve never been in that
position to say “Oh, what a bad performance” and anyhow be criticised. But I’ve heard
other colleagues received bad comments, because they themselves didn’t achieve their
goals.

What may be suggested then is that being focused on achieving a worthwhile outcome –
such as finely tuned and repertoire-rich orchestras and choirs – in order to avoid negative
criticism, can be a reason that a public output becomes more important for those teaching
music. This may explain the pressure that music teachers feel and the time they devote for
the ceremony preparations. For example, Participant 1 explained that teachers spend much
time in their music lessons in preparing students for school events, which are part of the
school system:

[a] huge part of music in Cyprus public Primary schools, particularly in high grades,
you squander in preparing a music show. When I say huge, I mean definitely 60 per
cent. […] [I]t’s so much labour, not a creative process at all [laughs].

As a result, the participant resorts to non-creative music choices in order to perfect her
product, as such occasions are seen as another “test” for music teachers to prove their com-
petence. Participant 2 also highlighted the pressure on the music teachers: “There are many
music teachers who are oppressed because of the school events”. She went on to explain that
the heavy schedule of school events works against musical creativity:

[I]f you are in a school where the head teacher strictly follows the rules, the school
events etc. and suffocates the school, may cause you trouble in terms of what and how
to present [in school events] and intrude into your job, meaning that this stresses you,
and when you are stressed, the first thing you try to do is to do the most necessary
things from the book so that you don’t get into trouble.

The numerous ceremonies and the pressure that they cause to the teachers and the students
were also mentioned by Participant 8:

[T]he events are some kind of pressure for us […]. I think this works against the chil-
dren because there is the time pressure, which impels them to leave behind other ac-
tivities that are important for them[;] […] we push them to learn the song or play the
 Creativities in Music and Creativities through Music  395
instruments because they will present and they have to be perfect, standing, walking,
being quiet and discreet, while being arranged by height. So, these things are a bit
restrictive.

Participant 10 also stressed the lack of time for the preparation of the events:

[T]ime is not enough to do both my lesson, as I want to, and to prepare the choir and
the orchestra. Time is too short. At some point, however, by necessity, we neglect the
subject, the teaching that takes place with all the children and has to be done. We de-
vote our time to events, particularly if it’s a school with demands, as such schools, have
high standards.

Therefore, the time issue obliges Participant 10 to sacrifice music teaching time for the sake
of rehearsals, because the performance she will present is very important both for her, who
wants to have a proper, well-sounding choir and orchestra, and for the school, of which the
two ensembles are part of its public image. Invited to explain what she means when stating
“…if it’s a school with demands, as such schools have high standards”, Participant 10 por-
trayed the broad image of such schools:

I will talk generally, not just about music, about other subjects too, such as school plays,
for example, where kids constantly do rehearsals, again and again; the costumes that
they will wear also have to be nice and impressive... and I believe that somehow this
ruins our relationship with the kids because, having them always for rehearsal, kids
get tired and we also get tired, and at some point you will come into conflict with the
kids. You may say something that you don’t mean because of the tension and I think
this ruins our relationship with the kids. And reasonably, as kids, they get tired, but we
have expectations, […] and [so] there’s tension. [...] [A]nd because there is comparison
among schools, “The other school did that thing for that event, we should do some-
thing better” and so on.

Apparently, the school quality and image are reflected through the events and, more particu-
larly, through the “quality” that their music and theatrical performances will demonstrate.
In view of the foregoing, there is a picture of a non-ideal school environment for nurtur-
ing creativity in music education. The undervaluing of the subject, but more importantly
the excessive bias in the amount of time devoted to the preparation of school events and the
instrumentalisation of the subject are the two greatest issues.

Discussion
There seems to be a bias towards school events over creativities in the teaching of music
in the Greek-Cypriot Primary education. An unsophisticated use and approach to music
as a curriculum subject that generates tension and exposes symbiotic weaknesses within
implemented policies, ultimately failing opportunities for diverse creative activities within
music education. In particular, the undervaluing and appropriation of music as a reflection
of the quality of school service carries negative consequences: lack of time, pressure on
music teachers and students, as well as a focus on the output of music activities rather than
the process.
Admittedly, undervaluing may sound oxymoronic especially when music is adopted to
reflect the schools’ academic excellence and high-quality services. This may be explained
as follows: according to the participants of the study, finely tuned music ensembles are
396  Stavros Makris et al.
ubiquitous throughout the school year, appearing in almost every school event. As men-
tioned above, concentrating on achieving a well-sounding musical performance in order
to avoid criticism may be a reason why the public output becomes more important for the
music teachers. Behind this odd instance, however, may lie vested interests, such as person-
nel with career advancement prospects, or aspirations to maintain a self-image of successful
management, at least, in the local community, acknowledge the power and resonance of
music: the emotional charge, the excitement, the overall atmosphere and even the admira-
tion it brings to a festive or ceremonial event.
However, schools need to provide more support to music teachers and be less
­concerned – although by no means unconcerned – about the music output of the school
events: namely, the good-sounding, good-looking, finely tuned, repertoire-rich orches-
tras and choirs, which appear in school ceremonies. Otherwise, performances become
compulsory and the music teachers’ attention focuses on the output, cutting out or min-
imising conditions and time for creativity, such as passing control time to students, en-
couraging risk-taking, experimenting with sound and improvising. Supportive creative
musical activities ­provide a greater sense of agency and ownership for pupils. After all, it
should be music teachers’ goal to “give students faith in their own means of expression and
provide them with the ability to distinguish between different kinds of musical creativi-
ties” (Burnard, 2012, p. 237). There is no reason why creative music making should not
lead to musical ­products which can be equally celebrated publicly as the performance of
established repertoire. Otherwise, the current repertoire performance bias will c­ ontinue
to generate a challenge regarding the development of creativities through the music sub-
ject (Sternberg, 2015).
In addition, it seems that music has become a low educational priority, particularly in con-
trast to literacy and mathematics (Makris, 2019) and it is used to achieve non-­educational,
or at least non-primary-educational goals. This phenomenon, however, contradicts what
literature suggests about the prime purposes of music education (e.g., Rainbow, 2006; Hal-
lam & Council, 2015). Pitts (2017) recognises that “one of the many things music edu-
cation is for [...], is fostering a creatively engaged society [...] leaving opportunities open,
not closing them down; offering routes and role models for lifelong engagement” (p. 166).
However, musical development in terms of mastering an established Western canon re-
quires many years commitment (Weisberg, 2010); if a performance is not well prepared,
music teachers may not wish to present it at the school events, particularly at those to which
students’ parents and distinguished personalities from the community, including from the
Ministry of Education, are invited, as this may reflect negatively on themselves, the school’s
image and its management. However, clearly musical performances at school events should
not be seen to represent a school’s overall academic excellence and the quality of its services.
Ultimately, this would be a counter-productive practice for both educators and students
because of the generation of the pressure and the focus on the output of music activities,
instead of the process. Last, but not least, the school community, which includes parents
and distinguished personalities, are not adequately qualified to make judgements on the
school’s academic excellence or the teacher’s professional level. Finally, there is a prevail-
ing perception that intelligence is linked to successful performance in modern Greek and
mathematics, with the music subject possessing a poor status. This reiterates the findings
of other studies (e.g., Robinson, 2006; Berliner, 2011), which have warned that creativity
may be a neglected aspect of education, or a non-realised educational goal (Piirto, 2004;
Bronson & Merryman, 2010). To put it bluntly, the tough truth is that in an environment
where language and mathematic subjects, as well as school ceremonies, are omnipotent, it
may be futile to expect recognition for such an elusive concept as musical creativity unless
the outcomes of such creativity can also be celebrated publicly. Admittedly, there is a need
 Creativities in Music and Creativities through Music  397
for a change in mentality on the part of the agents that constitute the leadership in the
current educational system. We all need to realise that if the aim is to encourage (more)
musical creativities in the schools, we need to clarify how we perceive and conceptualise
the music subject, rethink about the time devoted to it and the expectations we have from
the educators and pupils.

Conclusion
The purpose of this chapter was to provide suggestive evidence of the tension between cre-
ativity and current biases in the practice of music education in schools. It seems that the pri-
mary goal of the music subject in the context of the Greek-Cypriot education is to produce
successful choir and/or band performances at the numerous school events in order to re-
flect the school’s excellent functioning and quality of services. This phenomenon obstructs
the development of musical creativity in Greek-Cypriot education. The subject of music,
which according to policy documents (MoEC, n.b.d.) is supposed to nurture creativity,
seems to have become an instrument for other political interests. This reflects Sternberg’s
observation that “governments say they want creativity, but their actions belie their words”
(2006, 2). Such charges, although harsh, are nevertheless articulated by the participants in
this study. Finally, even though the study has been conducted within the Greek-Cypriot
context, it could be possible that such biased approach to music may be similarly applied
beyond. Further research needs to be conducted to examine other school personnel’s per-
ceptions of creativity and whether they recognise that school events are favoured over music
creativity, as well as what actions need to be taken in order to resolve the tension between
creativity and music education.

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34 Contexts and Conceptualizations of
Care in Music Education
Karin Hendricks

This chapter provides a description of the compassionate music teaching (CMT) frame-
work, offering potential applications of CMT tenets (trust, empathy, patience, inclusion,
community, authentic connection) for supporting multiple musical creativities among con-
temporary youth. The chapter begins with a description of the particular creative interests
and propensities of Generations Z and alpha, coupled with an argument for music pedago-
gies that better take into account students’ cultural and social worlds. Tenets of the CMT
framework are defined and situated within creativity literature to offer implications for
supporting multiple creativities in music education.

The Social and Creative Worlds of Generations Z and Alpha

Some might argue that Generations Z and alpha are rich with creativity, whereas others
might counter that contemporary youth demonstrate less creativity than ever before as they
watch and share videos on social media and imitate what they see. Yet, as Burnard (2012a)
has argued, youth musical creativity is more likely than adult creativity to be shaped by
engagement with a range of social media. Furthermore, this pattern of observation and
imitation runs parallel to social creative processes throughout history (Csikszentmihalyi,
2015). The difference now is that technological advancements have accelerated the pace
of observation and imitation and globalized the impact upon youth musical engagement
(O’Neill, 2014). Global musical creative activities shared via YouTube videos and TikTok
challenges—if deemed by social media peers to be valuable innovations—can go viral in
minutes. Thus, technological access has changed the creativity game in many respects,
putting into question who has “the right to choose the variations that can be preserved”
(Burnard, 2012b, p. 224) and what new musical subcultures might emerge.
The concept of a social “meme” has existed for half a century, defined by Dawkins (1976)
as a structured unit of information transferred from one generation to the next. Creativity is
evident when memes change over time (Csikszentmihalyi & Massimini, 1985). Currently,
in part due to the prevalence of social media and other online information platforms, the
time it takes for memes to breed new memes has shifted to warp speed. Some social media
memes have gathered enough energy to erupt into social movements such as #BlackLives-
Matter1 or the worldwide youth climate strike.2 Other memes have spawned members
of the TikTok generation to launch global at-home protests such as the commandeering
of a right-wing political rally in Oklahoma (with an estimated million people reserving
tickets en masse with no intention to attend the event; Lorenz et al., 2020); the quashing
of White supremacist efforts by posting a tsunami of K-pop videos on their social media
channels (NBC News, 2020); or drawing attention to the ridiculousness of conspiracy
theories by mocking them with their own fabricated narratives, such as Birds Aren’t Real
(Lorenz, 2021).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-39
 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education  405
What appears at first glance to be remarkable creativity and innovation on the part of
“Zoomers” and their “alpha” younger siblings could also be viewed as age-old instances
of youth rebellion in resistance to the actions and judgments of their predecessors, now
buoyed by technological innovations. Conversely, today’s youth might more readily at-
tribute these creative activities as reactions to a number of global crises poorly handled by
previous generations—crises, they would argue, that have now elevated to states of emer-
gency (Seemiller & Grace, 2019; Washington, 2021). In either case, as Csikszentmihalyi
(1999, 2015) and Burnard (2006, 2012a, 2012b) would suggest, these manifestations of
youth creativity are both individual and collective, both generated by and generating their
social worlds.

A Progressing World: A Need for Pedagogical Transformation

Technology is one field of influence upon musical creativity, working in tandem with
fields such as commerce, cultural production, social spaces, and industries to impact (and
be impacted by) musical innovation (Burnard, 2012a). However, in contrast to the rapidly
shifting technological, social, and musical worlds of Generations Z and alpha, formal music
education has remained behind the times in many respects, in part due to its longstanding
relationship with musical traditions whose ideologies value, promote, and reinforce those
traditions.
One such tradition is the myth of the lone creative genius in Western classical music,
which disregards the impact of social systems upon composers’ creative choices (Burnard,
2012b). This myth, along with various other myths and misconceptions about the ways in
which musical innovation takes place (Burnard, 2012b), has the potential to drive nails into
the coffin of musical creativity by disinviting would-be musickers and devaluing creative
diversity. As Csikszentmihalyi (2015) proposed, “[w]e need to abandon the Ptolemaic view
of creativity, in which the person is at the center of everything, for a more Copernican
model in which the person is part of a system of mutual influences and information” (p. 58).
Musical creativity is better understood as stemming from a variety of overlapping social and
cultural systems that evoke multifarious musical possibilities (Burnard, 2012b).
Some contemporary youth have felt marginalized by traditional school music and have
instead turned to do-it-yourself music communities that they deemed more inclusive of
their musical tastes and propensities (Quigley & Smith, 2021). Music education is in need
of expansion and transformation, given the social, cultural, and activity-specific nature of
musical creativity—coupled with the unique creative needs, interests, technologies, and
communication styles of our newest generations. Burnard (2012b) stated,

The aim of teachers is to transform education—that is, to hold to values and practices
that make radical improvements to its processes and outcomes… This entails develop-
ing new understandings, new practices, new pedagogies, and access to new forms of
purposeful activity inspired by contemporary fields of music. It requires a shift from
curricula of the past that have a narrowly specialized view of the subject of music, to an
orientation that champions contemporary practice… The goal of all music teachers is to
make music in education and education in music more relevant, so as to give students
faith in their own means of expression and provide them with the ability to distinguish
between different kinds of musical creativities. (p. 237)

There is a need for new music pedagogies that support music learners not only as content
producers, but, more importantly, as holistic and social beings with a thirst for musical
meaningfulness, relevance, and human connection.
406  Karin Hendricks
Compassionate Music Teaching as a Framework for Supporting
Multiple Creativities
One such approach may be found in the Compassionate Music Teaching (CMT) framework
(Hendricks, 2018), which draws from research in sociology and psychology to consider how
music teachers might engage effectively with 21st-century music learners. The framework
centers around six qualities of compassion (trust, empathy, patience, inclusion, community,
authentic connection) to offer ways in which teachers might replace top-down, transac-
tional pedagogies with more egalitarian and humanitarian ones. Theoretically, teachers can
practice each of the six aforementioned qualities of compassion (with trust as a foundation)
to foster experiences of authentic connection (i.e., spiritually fulfilling relationships), with
students and with the music they make.
The CMT approach is intended to center student voices and interrogate how teachers
might not only care for and about students, but care with them, as teachers act as co-­learners
with their students and enter unchartered musical and pedagogical territory together
(Hendricks, 2018, 2021, forthcoming; Hendricks et al., 2021). This framework fits with
Burnard’s (2012b) stated goals for music teachers by emphasizing empathetic and trusting
relationships, prioritizing inclusion and community, fostering a variety of musical com-
petencies, and making music experiences relevant to students’ lives (Hendricks, 2018). As
such, it supports the pedagogical processes and dispositions that might, as cited above, “give
students faith in their own means of expression” (Burnard, 2012b, p. 237).
The compassionate music teaching framework has previously been considered from a
variety of vantage points within music education, including performance pedagogy (Lewis,
Weight, & Hendricks, 2021; Lysaker, 2020), curriculum and teaching (Voutilainen, 2021),
teaching challenges and coping (Unterreiner, 2020), trauma-sensitive approaches (T.
Smith, 2022; Walzer, 2021), teacher education (Dansereau et al., 2021), displacement (Vũ,
2020); ecojustice (T. Smith, 2021), belonging and relatedness (Gamboa-Kroesen, 2019;
Graves, 2019), spirituality (Boyce-Tillman, 2021), and human flourishing (G. Smith &
Silverman, 2020).
To date, however, the compassionate music teaching framework has not been applied
specifically to musical creativity. There is potential resonance between this framework and
creativity research given that it aligns with many educational implications offered by crea-
tivity scholars, including:

• the foundational nature of empathy in musical engagement with others (Burnard,

2012a; Cross et al., 2012);
• the importance of trust in group music making (Cross et al., 2012; Lapidaki, 2020);
• recognizing and honoring students’ cultural and social worlds, both in and out of school
(Burnard, 2006);
• stimulating student interest through thoughtful and student-centered questioning
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1996, 2015);
• challenging and subverting traditional power relationships (Cross et al., 2012);
• openness to experimentation (Burnard, 2012b);
• provision of resources and other enabling conditions necessary to foster competence
(Burnard, 2012b; Saether et al., 2012; Vygotsky, 2004; Webster, 2002);
• extended pedagogical planning and goal setting, but with built-in allowance for flexi-
bility (Burnard, 2012b; Csikszentmihalyi, 1996);
• creating structures for student ownership and individual problem solving (Csikszent-
mihalyi, 2015; Leong et al., 2012);
• promoting peer and expert modeling and mentoring (Csikszentmihalyi, 2015);
 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education  407
• helping students envision their own musical identities and potentials (Burnard, 2006);
• designing experiences to foster a sense of flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996, 2015);
• creating safe spaces for musical risk-taking (Burnard, 2012b; Leong et al., 2012);
• motivation through shared passions and love, rather than fear (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996,
2015; Saether et al., 2012; Webster, 2002);
• emphasizing communal and participatory music making, including for social change
(Lapidaki, 2020; Lapidaki et al., 2012);
• balancing confidence and humility (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996);
• understanding student individuality rather than enforcing uniformity, including in
terms of classroom management (Csikszentmihalyi, 2015) and assessment (Leong et al.,
2012);
• openness to difference and divergence (Csikszentmihalyi, 2015; Saether et al., 2012;
Vygotsky, 2004; Webster, 2002);
• affording time for rest, well-being, and self-care (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996); and
• cultivating connections between content and students’ emotions and inner worlds
(Burnard, 2012b; Csikszentmihalyi, 1996; Vygotsky, 2004)

The remainder of this chapter provides a description of each of the tenets of the compas-
sionate music teaching framework (trust, empathy, patience, inclusion, community, au-
thentic connection). Each tenet is defined and explained in terms of pedagogical practice,
aimed toward cultivating positive student-teacher relationships to promote spiritual and
psycho-emotional connections with self, others, and music. Implications for supporting
multiple creativities are provided within each section.

Trust
Trust has been deemed essential in the act of creating music with others, particularly in
developing awareness and enhancement of others’ musical expressions (Cross et al., 2012).
Trust is defined as the “willingness to be vulnerable to another based on the confidence
that the other is benevolent, honest, open, reliable, and competent” (Tschannen-Moran,
2014, p. 20). Given the high amount of vulnerability that is inherent in authentic musical
expressions, it is listed as the foundational element of the compassionate music teaching
framework (Hendricks, 2018).
Relational trust in educational settings is built upon seven facets:

• Vulnerability (willingness to risk safety, letting go of control of decisions while also

maintaining responsibility for outcomes);
• Confidence (sense of security and poise despite potential risks);
• Benevolence (expectation that one person will keep the other’s well-being in mind);
• Reliability (consistency in producing positive outcomes for others);
• Competence (demonstration of achievements and skills related to the domain);
• Honesty (integrity and truthfulness); and
• Openness (sincerity and authenticity) (Tschannen-Moran & Hoy, 1998, 2000).

The importance of trust in musical creativity becomes more apparent when creativity is
viewed from a systems perspective, in which it is asserted that an individual creates some
sort of innovation within a particular domain, which is then judged by others in the field as
to its cultural value (Burnard, 2012b; Csikszentmihalyi, 1999, 2015). Trust may be critical
in forming communal creativities in unfamiliar educational settings, synergizing relation-
ships and valuing of the other in collaborative creative endeavors, nurturing self-other
408  Karin Hendricks
sensitivity in empathic creativities, and promoting mutuality and interaction within inter-
cultural creativity (see Burnard, 2012a).
Such elements of trust and creativity are evidenced through a recent case study of Dani,
who works within the field of conflict transformation in Palestine and Belfast (Hendricks
et al., forthcoming). Dani uses musical improvisation as a means of fostering spiritual pres-
encing, self- and other-awareness, and emotional healing and transformation. The study
revealed how the seven facets of trust overlapped during improvisatory music making to
subvert power structures; promote states of presence; and foster experiences of competence,
vulnerability, and openness to risk-taking.

Empathy
The ability to understand the experiences of another, either through perspective taking
or through emotional connections, is considered critical to compassionate music teaching
(Hendricks, 2018). Empathy is not to be confused with the simplistic, “me-oriented” no-
tion of sympathy, where one might feel pity for someone in pain (D. Howe, 2013). Instead,
it involves a deeper and more “you-oriented” essence of Einfühling, where one “feels into”
or “feels within” another person’s experiences (Cross et al., 2012; Eisenberg & Strayer, 1987;
D. Howe, 2013; Rabinowitch et al., 2013).
The CMT framework distinguishes between four types of empathy:

• Cognitive empathy, or the ability to comprehend in one’s mind what another person is
experiencing (Dadds et al., 2008; Hendricks et al., 2021);
• Affective empathy, or the experience of feeling in one’s body what another person is feel-
ing (Dadds et al., 2008; Hendricks et al., 2021);
• Compassionate or motivational empathy, an experience of understanding another person to
the point of being compelled to act on their behalf for their well-being; and
• Mature empathy, which involves not just feeling or thinking through the experiences of
another but considering those feelings and experiences from the other person’s world-
view and value system. It also involves the ability to weigh out how certain actions
might be helpful and supportive to some individuals but not to others (Hoffman, 1987).

These four types of empathy are each useful to help music teachers understand a variety
of experiences that students may have, thereby better aligning pedagogical approaches not
only with students’ individual needs but also their learning dispositions (Hendricks, 2018).
The concept of empathic creativity (Cross et al., 2012) focuses primarily on cognitive and
affective forms of empathy, in terms of developing “mutual affective alignment” (p. 341)
during shared creative processes. This conceptualization involves five aspects of musical
engagement that may promote experiences of empathic musical creativity. The first, imita-
tion, involves mimicry of others’ musical expressions, paving the way for deepened under-
standing of their emotional states. Entrainment allows for the shifting of one’s rhythm or
emotion to align with that of another. Disinterested pleasure allows for the maintaining of
collective joy while letting go of the need to produce any specific musical outcome. Flexi-
bility involves an openness to change as well as perceiving and responding to the emotions
and expressions of another. Ambiguity affords music-makers the space to interpret collec-
tive musical experiences in their own ways, without a need to align meaning with those of
other musicians in the shared space.
In some cases of empathic creativity, a sixth aspect, shared intentionality, can emerge
(Cross et al., 2012). Here, individuals experience disinterest, flexibility, and ambiguity to the
point that each person is free to completely express themselves while also cooperating with
 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education  409
and experiencing the feelings and expressions of others. Similar to the notion of compassion-
ate music teaching, shared intentionality might involve knowing and understanding others,
and honoring individuality while also engaging with others in musically meaningful ways.

Patience
The concept of patience, as described in compassionate music teaching, rejects an archaic
notion of patience as controlled frustration, and instead embraces a vision of music teachers
meeting each pedagogical challenge with curiosity and wonder (Hendricks, 2018). Patience
is defined as “looking beyond the present moment and considering a long term trajectory”
(Hendricks, 2018, p. 78) in which teachers take time to self-reflect upon (a) how their goals
and anticipations for students might align with or differ from students’ goals and anticipa-
tions; (b) where students are in terms of reaching shared goals; (c) what resources and learn-
ing processes are missing; and (d) how students might be supported with those resources
and learning processes.
Similar to how Burnard (2012b) outlined several myths and misconceptions regard-
ing music learning to awaken new possibilities for musical creativity, the CMT approach
challenges a number of discredited philosophies and practices regarding music learning,
including the nature of musical talent, complexities of musical development, flexibility
required in attaining long-term goals, effective (or non-effective) approaches to classroom
management, and taken-for-granted power structures in music education classrooms (Hen-
dricks, 2018). Top-down educational philosophies that position the teacher as a master or
controller of information and activities are critiqued for the ways in which they potentially
paralyze student creativity, motivation, and engagement.
Instead, the CMT approach advocates for teachers to foster awareness of infinite possibilities
and pathways for musical development. Compassionate music teaching approaches call for:

• recognizing the various environmental and intrapersonal catalysts and developmental

processes that lead toward musical competencies (McPherson & Williamon, 2016);
• fostering growth and experimental mindsets (Dweck, 2008; see also Madva, 2019;
Hendricks & McPherson, forthcoming);
• nurturing self-efficacy by helping students set and adjust goals, using questions as diag-
nostic tools, and supporting autonomous self-regulation (Hendricks, 2016; ­McPherson &
Zimmerman, 2011);
• maintaining a space of disinterest between a teacher’s agenda and students’ actions;
exercising empathy for students’ perspectives, interests, and individualized pathways
and timelines (see Cross et al., 2012 for comparisons to empathic musical creativity);
• keeping a sense of humor;
• building a culture of trust and high musical expectations;
• honoring individual student differences; and
• centering student voices and perspectives.

Exercising curiosity and wonder may elicit a more hospitable and welcoming space for
multiple creativities to thrive within music learning settings. Such an approach can dispel
outdated notions of musical rightness and giftedness (M. Howe et al., 1998), including
myths that celebrate a lone genius by discounting the myriad social and cultural ways that
individuals exercise musical creativity (Burnard, 2012b). Practicing patience through cu-
riosity and wonder can evoke an openness to otherness and act as “an antidote to violence
and fundamentalisms” of music pedagogies that limit ways of knowing, being, doing, and
creating (Boyce-Tillman, forthcoming, p. 1).
410  Karin Hendricks
Inclusion
In Compassionate Music Teaching, Hendricks (2018) introduced the tenet of inclusion by
sharing a narrative of her experiences with a high school principal, who announced to
Hendricks’s orchestra students that she had once, as a young girl, been asked to mouth
the words in her elementary school choir concert and had “hated music ever since”
(p. 104). Hendricks described her initial shock, followed by rash feelings of judgment
toward this music teacher for caring so much about trying to impress an audience that
her actions “silenced one girl not just for a concert but for a lifetime” (p. 104). Af-
ter engaging in self-reflection, however, Hendricks (2018) began to recall instances in
which she may similarly have discounted students’ musical contributions and potentially
turned students off from formal music instruction. The chapter addresses a number of
ways that students with a variety of backgrounds and interests might be recognized,
seen, and embraced for their musical and individual contributions to collective music
learning spaces.
One mechanism for teachers to promote a broad palette of musical creativities involves
partnerships between teachers and professional artists, through which students can con-
nect what they learn in the classroom with industry-based knowledge (Burnard, 2012b).
One of the strengths of such partnerships is the opportunity for students to benefit from
the balance of classroom structure and improvisatory approaches of visiting artists. Such
partnerships between pedagogues and creative artists are potentially stimulating for all
involved. However, given Generation Z’s unprecedented access to resources and ideas, it
does not need to be left to an outside creative artist to enter the classroom and save the
day. Not only would we do well to dispose of “divisive stereotypes of teacher and artist”
(Burnard, 2012b, p. 243)—but to also challenge archaic assumptions about expertise that
discount potentially fresh innovations that can emerge from students’ technological and
social networks.
The “hero narrative,” which Hendricks (2018) argues is all too pervasive in music ed-
ucation, can lead to an unwarranted and unhelpful notion of adult rescuing child, with
adults “placed in a superior position to students, … charged with full responsibility for …
learning, thereby potentially underestimating the wisdom and contribution of students in
the learning process” (p. 4). Music teachers might instead embrace emancipatory educa-
tional partnerships where teacher and visiting artist act as co-learners, not only caring for
and about students and the music they create, but “caring with” (Hendricks, 2018, 2021)
students in negotiated music learning activities.

Community
In later writing, Hendricks (forthcoming) offered a more nuanced critique to the concept of
inclusion: in many instances the one including acts as a gatekeeper to the one included—with
the former maintaining power to make decisions over the latter’s potential engagement,
opportunities, and privileges. Citing the concept of radical welcome (Spellers, 2006), Hen-
dricks (forthcoming) argued that “true inclusion is possible only in instances of full partic-
ipation, embrace of diverse interests, and shared power” (p. 1).
Inclusion and community, when viewed as radical welcome, resonate with the notion
of hospitality described by Higgins (2007). Here, group music activities have “an open-
door policy, a greeting to strangers, extended in advance and without full knowledge of
its consequences” (p. 83). In music classrooms, an open welcome and embrace of diverse
perspectives may evoke a sense of vulnerability among music teachers who are accustomed
 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education  411
to carrying a badge of expertise and exercising control over musical outcomes. However,
Hendricks (2018) remarked, “only by taking risks can we … open up possibilities for crea-
tivity and insight” (p. 128).
The notion of community involves fostering safe yet stimulating “spaces and places” for
growth (Hendricks, 2018, p. 125). Community-based learning environments emphasize a
balance of (a) established rules and practices to provide students with structure and guide-
posts for developing competencies, with (b) a spirit of hospitality that welcomes divergence
and innovation. An improvisatory group music setting that fosters what Higgins (2008)
termed a sense of “safety without safety” can

promote responsible facilitative practice, whilst making room for … unexpected [mu-
sical] inventions [where] ‘failures’ are celebrated. As moments of learning they are
not understood as devastating but rather as an important aspect of the creative pro-
cess … Safety without safety keeps the pathways open, always-already welcoming the
unexpected.
(pp. 77–79).

As teachers encourage students to support and inspire one another’s successes and indi-
vidual contributions, they can nurture stress-free yet challenge-filled environments “where
students feel emotionally safe enough to take ever-increasing musical risks” (Hendricks,
2018, p. 126). Such environments are conducive to experiencing flow states associated with
creative activity (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996).

Authentic Connection
Theoretically, as teachers can engage with students to create environments filled with
trust, empathy, patience, inclusion, and community, they can foster experiences of authen-
tic connection (Hendricks, 2018). Such instances of spiritual communion through music
can be compared to attunement, entrainment, emotional effervescence, communitas, and
eudaimonia (Hendricks & Boyce-Tillman, 2021). However, they also involve a sense of
integrity that comes through self- and other-awareness and a willingness to be vulnerable
through musical expression (Hendricks, 2018)—through a process in which “musicking
and authentic connection stimulate and reinforce one another” (Hendricks & Boyce-­
Tillman, 2021, p. 6).
Despite contemporary youth’s unprecedented ability to connect virtually with others
across the world in an instant, many members of Generation Z and Alpha are experiencing
a deep sense of loneliness, isolation, and diffused sense of individual identity (Seemiller &
Grace, 2019; Washington, 2021). Group music-making experiences have the potential to
help students forge authentic connections with peers, community members, audiences,
music (including composers and other artists related to the music they create); and to better
understand themselves (Hendricks, 2018; Quigley & Smith, 2021).
Throughout history, many music teachers have attempted to motivate students to par-
ticipate in group music activities through extrinsic approaches using competition, negative
social comparison, and fear of failure (see Hendricks, Smith, & Stanuch, 2014). In contrast,
the CMT framework advocates for intrinsic motivation through activities that support stu-
dents’ sense of autonomy, competence, and relatedness (Deci & Ryan, 1985). Music ed-
ucation pedagogies that promote self- and other-connections are informing rather than
controlling (Legutki, 2010), and emphasize “authentic, interpersonal goals [that] enhance
expression and connect knowledge in meaningful ways” (Roesler, 2014, p. 39).
412  Karin Hendricks
Conclusion
Technological advances have obliterated the myth of the teacher as master of information
(Hendricks, 2018)—which relates to the myth of a single creativity (Burnard, 2012a, 2012b).
The role of music educators must change in contemporary society, where many stu-
dents already have access to information, technology, and a variety of musics at the touch
of a button. It is clearer than ever before that students may not need teachers to learn new
things. What teachers can do, however, is to support the creation of trusting, empathetic,
and caring musical spaces that afford students the freedom to experiment with, develop, and
express their individual and collective musical identities. Teaching in this way is itself an act
of creativity and improvisation.
This chapter presented the compassionate music teaching framework (Hendricks, 2018)
as one approach for supporting multiple musical creativities among Generations Z and
Alpha. Six qualities of compassionate music teaching (trust, empathy, patience, inclusion,
community, authentic connection) have been explored as they relate to music creativity
literature. Trust is essential to group music making, particularly to embrace vulnerabil-
ity, a willingness to express oneself and to try new things. Empathy promotes self- and
­other-awareness and allows for the honoring of individuality while also attuning with
others’ musical expressions. Patience within the CMT context involves a perpetual state of
curiosity and wonder, along with an openness to flexibility within structures that support
long-range musical goals. Inclusion encompasses a broad musical palette, resisting narratives
of superiority, and engaging in “caring with” philosophies that allow teachers to learn
along with their students. Community is described as a spirit of welcome and hospitality,
balanced with social structures and pedagogical processes that provide support to develop
musical competencies. Community-centered music education environments offer students
stress-free yet challenge-filled experiences. Group music-makers are open to the contribu-
tions of one another, along with the willingness to be changed (personally and musically)
through such musical engagement. Experiences of musical community lead to instances of
authentic connection—which can act as an antidote to the feelings of isolation and diffused
identity experienced by many contemporary youth.
In her writings on creativity, Burnard (2012b) proposed that a broad array of musical cre-
ativities might be enabled through critical reflection, centering student voices and perspec-
tives, providing modeling and mentoring, awareness of community cultural development,
and embracing pedagogies that are more welcoming of the world outside the classroom
(p. 261). The compassionate music teaching approach aligns with these recommendations,
also affording students spaces to learn to care for, about, and with others as they develop
musical competencies, explore various musical innovations, and try on a variety of musical
identities. Given the wealth of possibilities available to Generations Z and Alpha, such an
approach might evoke avenues for new creativities not yet imagined.

Questions for Consideration

1 How are musical creativities of Generations Z and Alpha different from those of previ-
ous generations? How are they similar?
2 How are each of the CMT qualities (trust, empathy, patience, inclusion, community,
authentic connection) manifest in your own music education setting?
3 How is the compassionate music teaching approach similar to the concept of empathic
creativity? How is it different?
4 How might music teachers embrace their own vulnerabilities and engage authentically
in co-learning experiences with students?
 Contexts and Conceptualizations of Care in Music Education  413
Notes
1 https://blacklivesmatter.com
2 https://strikewithus.org

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35 #creativityeveryday – Instagram as
a Creative Tool
Himasha Gunasekara, Cheryl Brown, and Stuart Wise

Introduction
Beyond extending our physical capabilities, tools have played a key role in the evolution of
brain and mental powers: “Using tools has been interpreted as a sign of intelligence, and it
has been theorized that tool use may have stimulated certain aspects of human evolution –
most notably the continued expansion of the human brain.” The digital technology revolu-
tion of the past 50 years has taken our information-based, intelligence-enhancing tools to
a whole new level. I suspect that this co-evolution of humans and our tools will continue
well into the future. According to Berger (2011, para.1), the latest developments of Web
2.0 technologies as everyday technologies have expanded the boundaries of creativity as a
digital intersection of art and expression of design, visual arts, and music industries (Chai &
Fan, 2017). Instagram offers a range of linear storytelling tools and practices to express an
individual’s creativity by using audio, visual, and textual formats. It has its own unique
tools such as image filtering and editing, sound effects, instant sharing through multiple
platforms; and some common social media tools such as liking, commenting, hashtagging,
geotagging, and re-posting with its high visual and textual culture. Also, because of the
potential of digital dualism, Instagram has become a habitat for creativity. This chapter
provides an overview of the dual role of Instagram as a facilitation tool for creativity in
everyday life. Through exploring the role of Instagram as a creative tool, we may better
understand probable future social, economic, and educational affordances that can be cre-
ated through this digital platform.

Evolving Social Media Affordances in Everyday Life

The remarkable evolution in telecommunication technologies over the last few decades
has seen an increase in mobile or portable and networked devices being seen as essential
personal belongings ( Jin et al., 2014). Mobile technology is highly popular across a range
of age groups due to its affordability and ease of access (Newhouse et al., 2006). The emer-
gence of Web 2.0 technologies has enhanced the popularity of social media during the last
two decades ( Jones & Gelb, 2010). Social media consists of a range of web applications with
the most dominant being Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Messenger, WhatsApp,
Viber, and Snapchat. Kaplan and Haenlein (2010) argue that mobile phones have facili-
tated an increase in the use of social media which has had the potential to reduce distance
between people across the world. Social media is a way of connecting people where they
can exchange, create, and share thoughts and information in virtual communities and net-
works. Ito et al. (2009, p. 28) describe social media as a set of new media that helps inter-
action between a group of people. In the contemporary world, social media has become a
prominent lifestyle feature in society.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-40
 Instagram as a Creative Tool  417
These social media consist of multimodal semiotic resources of audio, video, images,
speech, text, captions, and hashtags. As a core function, social media allows users to re-
cord, store, share, and exchange its content which may facilitate user inspirations (Manca &
Ranieri, 2016). This point is compatible with the remarkable and positive correlation be-
tween the usability dimensions (adoption intention, perceived ease of use, and perceived
usefulness) of social media and inspirations. Social media creates an environment for self-­
expression and challenge (Chai & Fan, 2017). It creates a platform to observe how creative
ideas spring and spread faster within a community easily rather than in the physical world
(Chai & Fan, 2017).

Creative Thinking and Creativity

The creation of original ideas that connect to knowledge through “imagination, inspira-
tion, ingenuity, and inventiveness” can be defined as creativity (UN Agencies, 2008, p. 3).
Creativity can be described as an artistic, scientific, beneficial, and challenging approach
(Senanayaka, 2013). Traditionally, creativity is considered a mental process and psycholo-
gists often consider it as a process of thoughts, sentiments, and individual motivations that
are innovative. However, Simonton (1988) describes the influence of political, social, and
economic influence on creativity, and argues that there are external factors that individuals
must consider. Scholars from various disciplines have defined creativity in different terms
describing its correlation between thinking and creativity. Dietrich (2019) mentions that
creativity is a complex and multifaceted concept, and further highlights the modes of crea-
tivity, namely intentional, spontaneous, and flow modes. Some people are born to be smart,
and some need an appropriate environment and sufficient training to practice creativity. In
February 2021, the Indeed editorial team classified 12 characteristics for a creative individ-
ual as curious, playful, open minded, flexible, sensitive, risk taking, independent, intuitive,
thorough, ambitious, objective, and energetic.

Instagram as a Digital Intersection for Creative Expression

Instagram was originally launched as a free iPhone application by Kevin Systrom and Mike
Krieger in 2010. It was originally designed as an app to share pictures among friends (In-
stagram, 2015b). The name Instagram came from a portmanteau of the two words, the
instant camera and telegram. Instagram is one example of a social media platform gaining
popularity globally (Smith et al., 2018) and the creators envisaged a more connected world
through photos (Instagram, 2015c). It enables users to share self-generated multimedia con-
tent including photos and videos (Ellison et al., 2007). Instagram is the most used social
networking service (SNS) (Knight-McCord et al., 2016) as evidenced by its rapid growth
where it achieved one million registered users in two months and 10 million within a year
of app launch (2016). Instagram is particularly popular among teenagers and young adults
(Duggan, 2015) and as of June 2016, Instagram had over 500 million active users and 95
million posts and 4.2 billion likes were made each day (Instagram, 2016). Vast amounts of
content are shared with an average of 70 million photos recorded daily in 2015 (Instagram,
2015a). The huge popularity of Instagram attracted the attention of world pioneering dig-
ital entrepreneurs and as a result Facebook purchased Instagram for US$1 billion in April
2012 (Metz, 2014). This enormous success within such a brief period demonstrated the
potential of Instagram as a powerful social media platform. When using Instagram as a
tool for creativity the affordances of Instagram can be classified into three sections: sym-
bolic expressions, multimodal affordances (visual, textual, video and audio), and Instagram
practices. While symbolic expressions and multimodal affordances support crafting creative
418  Himasha Gunasekara et al.
content, Instagram practices such as hashtagging, captioning, creative collaborations, and
communities have helped to create a strong creative field in Instagram.

Symbolic Expressions
Instagram possesses many symbolic expressions including graphic icons and symbolic icons.
The Instagram icon itself reminds us of its main function of capturing and sharing pho-
tos. Similarly, the TV icon to represent IGTV, home icon for the home page, bubble icon
for commenting, and paper plane icon for sharing or sending a post or story help users to
navigate the application subconsciously. It also provides a more comfortable user experi-
ence in exploring content. Instagram has given special attention to spatial positioning of a
post. As an example, on the home page, the story section is planned horizontally while the
­user-browsing section is arranged vertically to give ultimate comfort to the user. Like, shar-
ing, commenting, and save post buttons are placed horizontally with convenient icons. The
application is well defined by giving less information to the user at a time. These symbolic
expressions help any individual to use the app hassle free.

Multimodal Affordances of Instagram for Music Industry

The unique Instagram storytelling tools such as stories, reels, and IGTV maintain the high
audio-visual emphasis of Instagram and have made Instagram a popular modern tool in
which to express creativity. Instagram has a major impact on the music industry by becom-
ing a uniquely addictive and organic channel between artists and fans. Despite Instagram
being designed as a photo app, the most “followed” accounts belong to music stars. Ariana
Grande (272 million followers), Selena Gomez (273 million), Beyonce (219 million), and
Justin Bieber (204 million) remain in the top ten Insta follower list which goes to show that
Instagram means more to the music industry than merely acting as a photo app. IG stories
or Instagram stories let the users upload photos or short videos with engaging features,
stickers, GIFs, and wordings. These IG stories last for 24 hours, and a user can archive his/
her stories as they wish. IG reels are a new way to create fun and more engaging video con-
tent. They are short videos that users can post with engagement features. A user can record
and edit 15–60 second video clips, set music to these, and share them instantly. IGTV is a
built-in video uploading feature in Instagram where users can upload videos up to 4–15
minutes in length. IGTV also works as a standalone video application. All it requires is a
smartphone with internet connection to enable these creative activities within minutes and
no prior knowledge is required. Therefore, Instagram is highly popular as a creative tool
among youth. Jaden Smith, a popular young rap artist well known for not playing by the
rules, debuted his new album via Instagram. This is an indication of the potential of IGTV
and what it might mean for the future of popular music. Tierra Whack, the young Amer-
ican rapper, launched her album “Whack World” exclusively on Instagram accompanied
with 1 minute video for each song in the album.
Instagram has a high visual emphasis that brings out meanings through images, with
texts and hashtags feeding the context of the post (Marwick, 2015, p. 139). Marwick fur-
ther describes how textual descriptions and replies to followers are de-emphasized, making
images more prominent. Various affordances of Instagram are based on its features that
make it a total solution provider for creative individuals as they can capture images/videos,
edit them, and share them in the app itself. Instagram users are also able to upload images
that are not captured with the Instagram built-in photo feature and this feature allows them
to include memes, text on images, and sound effects. Instagram offers other benefits such
as improving the appearance of photos on mobile phones by applying filters, facilitating
 Instagram as a Creative Tool  419
instant sharing of photographs across multiple social media at the same time, developing
the speed and ease of photo uploading process, and allowing users to share short videos
and photo collections called “Instagram stories” (Instagram, 2015a). Though Instagram
does not require skillful photography, users are able to apply its filters to upgrade images
as professionally captured photographs (Instagram, 2015c). Because of this function, con-
scious thought has been given to enhance the aesthetic nature of the posts providing an
opportunity for the user to be creative. That is one reason Instagram is a popular social
media among many teenagers and young adults who prefer to be creative in the digital
space (Sonnenberg, 2020).
These multimodal features have caused Instagram to make a major impact on the con-
temporary music industry and often it has been the digital platform leveraged in unique
ways to promote artists. Kathy Baker, senior VP of Digital Marketing at Columbia Records,
has stated “If we have a new project, we’ll bring the Instagram team and we’ll play music,”
which reveals the power of Instagram over the music industry (Viner, 2018). Aubrey Drake
Graham, a Canadian rapper, once bought a floating car at one of his concerts to make that
an instagrammable moment where fans had no choice but to pull out their phones, capture
a snap or video for their Instagram. Therefore, contemporary artists think about their per-
formances not only from a musical perspective, but also from visual perspectives. Instagram
not only creates space to promote artists but also supports its merchandizing. Instagram’s
integration with Eventbrite helps seamless ticketing experience. Eventbrite interacts with
instagrammable moments shared by the fans and helps to increase ticket sales. Artists can
interact with their fans through Instagram in various ways by capturing moments in their
daily lives, behind-the-stage scenes, live performance footage, short narratives on upcom-
ing albums, and live Q & A sessions. They often use reels or stories for those interactions.
Instagram fan videos are another common trend in the music industry to make popular mu-
sic. Its integration with Soundcloud and Shazam allows Instagram followers to share their
favorite music in their Insta stories while listening to Soundcloud or Shazam, which results
in millions of views within a shorter period. Many music artists use Instagram to test out
their creations, more likely a platform for data collection other than interaction with fans.
Instagram affordances support growth of music industry.

Instagram Hashtag Practices and Friending Patterns for Creative Communities

Instagram is highly popular as a strong visual communication platform, and hashtags on
Instagram are extremely useful in finding relevant content (Highfield & Leaver, 2014).
Though there are other picture-based mobile applications such as Flickr and Snapchat,
these applications don’t allow users to interact or network. Unlike other social media plat-
forms, Instagram pays more attention to users’ own presentation and expression as mediated
through images (Ibrahim, 2015; Jang et al., 2015) rather than building up public opinion or
discourse. Hence, there is more to observe in Instagram’s visual content rather than textual
content. As Instagram promotes visual rather than textual communication, its hashtags
rarely become part of continuing text-based conversations like Twitter (Bruns & Burgess,
2011). Instagram posts are more likely to address a community or provide context for the
visual by hashtagging. These online communities are specified by hashtags and have a
shared sense of space, practice, and identity. Therefore, hashtags play a significant role in
identifying online communities with similar practices. However, Instagram limits a post
to 30 hashtags and “@” mentions of fellow users as five per post/comment to reduce spam
(Instagram, 2015c). Choosing the right hashtag definitely helps a young artist to grow up
his/her followers and become famous. #music, #hiphop, #rap, #musician, #singer, #mu-
sica, #dj, #rock, #dance, #song, #guitar, #viral, #producer, #newmusic, #musicvideo,
420  Himasha Gunasekara et al.
#instamusic, #livemusic, #pop, #concert, #trap, and #beats were some of the top rated
music hashtags in 2021(Shopify, 2021).
Instagram users tend to document their daily life events and include more geotag (loca-
tion adding) data at an average of 31 times compared to Twitter (Manikonda et al., 2014).
This creates ample opportunity for creative individuals to observe location-based trends.
Manikonda et al. (2014) further discovered that Instagram has distinctive relationship pat-
terns as many users maintain lower friending reciprocity but maintain a high number of
small cliques compared to many other social media platforms. Instagram has its terminology
where the Instagram community members call each other “followers.” There is no clear
data or evidence for this specialty on Instagram, but it reflects the stronger online com-
munity impact on Instagram usage encouraged by hashtag practices. Instagram’s “Search
and explore page” uses an algorithm to enhance popular content which leads some users
to receive high amounts of interaction (Carah & Shaul, 2015, 2016). It was also found that
artists were linking their Instagram posts to tweets on Twitter (Laestadius et al., 2016). This
cross share ability has become an advantage for a musician to showcase their work across
multiple platforms at the same time.
Instagram has become the favorite social media application among those under 29
(Greenwood et al., 2016) and the fastest growing social media around the world (Sheldon &
Bryant, 2016). A high focus on visuals, hashtag usage, geotagging, and novel friending and
liking patterns of Instagram has made it a trendy tool to express music creativity. In recent
years, musicians have been posting artworks directly into Instagram and they have become
enthusiastic collaborators in this social media application (Budge, 2013). This shows that
Instagram has become a digital platform where users can not only express but also share
individual/group creativity.

Instagram as a Habitat for a Vital System of Music Creativity

In recent decades, many theorists began to look at creativity from a different perspective.
They argued creativity emerged as a result of the interaction of multiple systems. Farrell
(2001) argues, without a community of peers, it is difficult to develop creativity (Farrell,
2001, p. 1). However, this does not represent the whole community of artists and creativ-
ity can stimulate people in different ways. For some, the social aspect of creativity which
connects them to others serves to inspire and create new work. Boden (1994, 2001) high-
lights the social and cultural connections to motivation and self-confidence in creative
developments. These social and cultural connections provide us with an extensive range
of ideas concerning the socio-cultural dimension of creativity. Gruber and Davis (1988)
describe the evolving-systems initiation to creative thinking while Simonton (1988) ar-
gues that creativity involves the originality of innovative ideas and the subsequent ac-
ceptance of them by society. Few researchers have attempted to explore the influence
of society, culture, and environmental factors in which creativity is present. They have
developed system models composed of individuals, fields, and domains influenced by
social and cultural systems. Among these models, Csikszentmihalyi (1988) introduced
the system model of creativity where he examines creativity as a part of a complex vital
system. He argued that novel ideas or acts may result in creativity only if they interact
with symbolic systems inherited from previous generations in a qualified social system to
assess and accept novelty (Csikszentmihalyi, 1988, 1999). Through this model, Csiksz-
entmihalyi accredits not only individuals but also the social groups and disciplines who
make judgments on individuals. In Csikszentmihalyi’s model, creativity must be defined,
referencing a system that includes the individual, field, and domain which are described
in the next paragraph.
 Instagram as a Creative Tool  421
Individuals inspire or adopt knowledge from the domain and create new things and pass
them to the field. The expertise contained in the field acts as gatekeepers in the field. The
field filters out the flood of information and selects which one to be accepted or not in the
norm (Csíkszentmihályi, 1996, p. 42). The field also decides what is new and what is not
new or creative; what belongs to the domain and what should be excluded. The domain
represents the set of rules, procedures, knowledge, and practices of a particular discipline
(Csíkszentmihályi, 1996, p. 27). He argues that these features of the domain are nested in
what we call the culture or symbolic knowledge carried by the particular society or human-
kind as a whole (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996, p. 28). Domain has a high potential of influencing
society while there is a huge difference between a discipline and a stream (e.g., Biology,
Advertising, IT, or Insurance). The “meme” of the domain is changing throughout time
and what changes them is the process of creativity (Csikszentmihalyi and Massimini, 1985).
The term “meme” was coined by Dawkins (1976) to refer to a unit of information that is
imparted from one generation to the next. A meme could be the best possible set of struc-
tured information which is worth imparting such as the formula of a smelting copper, the
first few bars of a Beethoven symphony, the smile of Mona Lisa, or the concept of democ-
racy. Generally, these memes and practices remain stable for a longer time, and it requires
psychological energy to learn these memes and practices and, to some extent, psychological
energy is a very scanty yet necessary resource (Csikszentmihalyi, 1988).

Adopting Csikszentmihalyi’s System Model of Creativity to

Understand Instagram as a Habitat for Music Creativity
The system model of creativity developed by Csikszentmihalyi has been applied in con-
temporary research into creativity. Peppler and Solomou (2011) applied this system-based
approach in an effort to develop some understanding of how creativity operates within a
single community and to then attempt to draw some implications about digital creativity.
They extended Csikszentmihalyi’s work into the domain of social media and showed that
it can provide a means to document, describe, and analyze creativity. Practice of creativity
outside the classroom has a key role in one’s growth as individual creativity is supported
by domains and field. Burnard (2012) describes how the creative and learning aspects of
childhood and youth cultures in the digital age are changing and describes the importance
of identifying digital tools in the field of creativity. Social media provides an ample space for
interaction among friends, students, professionals, and similar minded people. It creates an
environment that connects online and offline activities. In wide usage, these social media
communities can influence one’s creativity. Therefore, the framework of Csikszentmihalyi
can be adopted to understand how Instagram community or culture facilitates music cre-
ativity, acting as a home or habitat for music creativity. In adopting Csikszentmihalyi’s
framework to this virtual community it is important to identify the individuals, domains,
and fields in the Instagram community.
In observing the role of Instagram as a habitat for creativity, the system model of Csiksz-
entmihalyi can be adopted as shown in Figure 35.1.
Individual: In the Instagram community the individuals can be recognized as the creative
individuals who follow Instagram and contribute and adopt things from Instagram. Csiksz-
entmihalyi quotes that creative individual are sensitive and cold, arrogant and humble, mas-
culine, and feminine, as the occasion demands (Csíkszentmihályi, 1996). These individuals
can come up with inborn skills, experience, and motivation. What dictates their behavior
is not a rigid inner structure, but the demands of the interaction between them and the
domain in which they are working. Creativity occurs when a person makes a change in the
information contained in a domain, a change that will be selected by the field for inclusion
422  Himasha Gunasekara et al.

Figure 35.1  Adopting Csikszentmihalyi’s system model of creativity.

in the domain. Likewise, these individuals absorb knowledge and inspiration by looking at
other’s Instagram posts – mainly by following professionals. As an example a young musi-
cian can inspire by looking at a professional designer’s Instagram profile. Daily, thousands
of music artists upload or post their works in Instagram.
Domain: The Instagram domain is a blend of virtual community and creative commu-
nity. Virtual studio practices create exciting collective efforts and communications (Mc-
Niff, 2000). Musicians who maintain digital platforms support new norms in the creative
world (Budge, 2012). The internet has embraced social relations and it is a mean of creating
online network social contact (Papacharissi, 2007, p. 21). Even though Papacharissi does
not focus on artists’ usage of social media, many observations can be taken into account in
terms of studying the impact of social media on artistic practices. It is always a positive and
rich experience to be a part of a virtual community and social networking among creative
individuals enables sharing a practice of creativity and supports each other’s creative work
to develop and thrive (Budge, 2012).
Field: The experts in the music industry include music teachers, professionals, freelance
musicians, and even music students. The field interacts with the characteristics of individ-
uals and the needs of the domain to provide opportunities that contribute to the advance-
ment of creative individuals. The field’s perceptions of an individual’s ability and potential
to succeed influence the emergence of eminence by determining if an individual’s contri-
bution will be accepted into the domain. In Instagram the field consists of music teachers,
music professionals, freelance musicians, and even music students who are Instagram users.
Collectively, this group selects the music products that become recognized as legitimate
music. This field differs from a traditional field. Up until now, most researchers use the
system model of creativity in referring to “a panel of experts” in representing the field to
assess the creative contributors/producers in the particular community (Kaufman et al.,
2008; MacDonald et al., 2006). The system of creativity is evolving in a way that it can fit
 Instagram as a Creative Tool  423
the ways that technology enlarges society and culture (Bentley, 2009; Zhao, 2012). In social
media, atmosphere expertise is divided among the members of the particular community,
and crowd sourcing is applied in figuring out the most important and suitable contributors
(e.g., ratings, number of likes, or views). This completely broke the traditional practice and
definition of the field, expanding new ways of discovering creativity. But what does that
mean? Does that mean the Instagram post which gets more likes is being considered as the
most creative piece of work? If not, what inaugurates the creativity in Instagram? Instagram
makes a perfect domain as most of senior and junior musicians have made their presence
available in Instagram.
Though the archive is not illustrated in the original model, it has been illustrated in the
adopted model as archiving or re-posting is a common practice in the Instagram commu-
nity. The rejections from the field go to the archive and there is always a potential that they
may be accepted by the field in the future and pass to the domain.
As we can fit Csikszentmihalyi’s system model of creativity to the Instagram community
and clearly figure out each component as individual, field, and domain it proves that Insta-
gram acts as a habitant for music creativity.

Conclusion
The evolution of human beings has tended to coincide with the invention of new tools. The
journey of human beings took a different pathway after the invention of the wheel, then the
steam engine, and now these digital tools. Humankind appears to be predisposed to evolve
with these tools and it is necessary to understand the applications of these digital tools for
the benefit of future generations. Instagram is one such digital tool used in everyday life by
millions of people. In this chapter we have described the dual role of Instagram as a tool
for expressing music creativity as well as a habitat for music creativity. The digital story-
telling tools of Instagram allow individuals to express themselves creatively while reaching
to a massive audience. As a result, Instagram can be identified as a modern tool for music
creativity. Further, it not only acts as a supporting tool but also supports as a habitat for
creativity. Understanding this dual role of Instagram helps to enhance its sustainable use as
a modern tool for creativity and to find new norms in future creative industries.

Questions for Consideration

1 What other ways might artists in all fields of creativity use ever-evolving social media
apps to create innovative works?
2 How might these innovative practices impact the presentation and reception of live
music event?
3 Will there be an expectation in future arts education of a high level of digital knowl-
edge and skills included in courses to allow students to succeed in this new digital
world?

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Part 6

Re-Thinking, Re-Searching,
Re-Visioning Creativities in
Performance
Music educators have been researching creativities for the better part of four decades. Fresh
perspectives on the foci of research efforts are brought forward in this part of the book.
Concept maps, silence, gratitude, spirituality, and more are held up to the light of better
understanding creativities at their implications for and application to the music classroom.
Burnard, Sorensen, Gill, and Rabinowitch help us to identity the salience in perfor-
mance creativities with implications for teaching and learning.
Keller, Mandanici, and Messina consider what co-located and remote educational activ-
ities and live patching might have for the trajectory of creativities research.
Van der Shyff studies music pedagogy and the creative body.
Bernhard helps us understand the role of gratitude in times of uncertainty and what that
might mean for the study of creativities.
Smith puts us in the mind of a drummer seeking to understand his own musical practices
and how they are spiritual in nature.
Moors and Himonides tell a story of resilience and profound creativities with people who
have lost their voices and then are able to sing together via technological means.
Gomez and Cremades-Andreu take on transdisciplinary dialogue and participatory cre-
ativity in improvisational activity.
Ghent, Carlson, Panetta, Patterson, and Randles tell the story of the creation of a concept
map of the speakers at an international creativities in music education conference housed in
Tampa, Florida, and broadcast virtually for a global audience.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-41
428  Re-Thinking, Re-Searching, Re-Visioning Creativities
36 Making Silence Matter
Rethinking Performance Creativity as a
Catalysing Space for Sounding Oneself in
Music Education
Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen

Introducing the Salience of Silence

What if we saw the performance of silence – whether on the page or between sounds – as
a performative space? What if silence itself becomes a space of performance and the sounds
become spaces in which bodies move and things come alive with meaning (and mean dif-
ferently)? What if silence is much more than the simple absence of sound but rather part of
the performance text itself?
Silence is experienced in many ways in relation to the expectations and conventions of
musical performance practices. Silence makes audible the material authoring and enact-
ments of musical performance creativity. A number of writers, including Jane Davidson (2014),
further develop these ideas in their definitions of performance creativity1 as authorial and iden-
tity forming through the patterns of interaction with the performer(s), the instrument(s),
the physical environment, the body, the mind, the cultural and the social, all of which, we
maintain, can be enacted through music. In addition to these parameters the interplay of
silence and sound that takes place in the sonic ‘in-between’ (Gadamer, 1975, p. 109) of the
performer and audience, we believe, is central to the core relationships between the artist
and their environment, instrument, other musicians, self and pulse (Green, 2011). We can
go even further still with the concept of the music itself as an atemporal ‘other’ that we
nurture into being time and again through our performances, permitting different charac-
terisations of silence as musical performance practice. There are clear connections here with
the increased attention to ontological study in music in the past decade, not least as a result
of the ‘performative turn’ in musicology (Cook, 2013) which seeks to validate the transfer
of musical meaning from texts to performance.
Silence is one of the dynamic locales of the sounded agency and choices of the performer
as they develop their performative voice (via performance creativity), particularly in relation-
ship with specific recordings or interpretations. Cook (2013, p. 241) describes this phenom-
enon as each performance of a work being related like a family member, sharing the same
features but in different proportions. In contrast, the discourse on silence, dominated by
discussion of John Cage’s work and ideas, particularly his 1952 composition 4’33”, is criti-
cally and conceptually important to the development of 20th-century sound art and music.
In this chapter we focus on why silence matters and how silence and sound become cor-
poreal spaces in which music performance practices become crystallisations of performance
creativity. In this way, our discussion contributes to the growing body of research on the
salience of silence in performance, as exhibited in diverse performance practices. We also
consider the potential of this work to catalyse innovation in music education.
We draw on a scoping study reported elsewhere whose aim was threefold: (i) to identify
how silence is manifest in performance practice; (ii) to identify whether silence in a musical
excerpt can affect the listener’s perception; and (iii) to further our understanding of the role
of silence as a parameter of performance creativity (Burnard et al., 2021). All of this is reported

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-42
430  Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen
elsewhere, where we explored the ways in which two musicians performed silence in rela-
tion to sound, Miles Davis in ‘Round Midnight’ and Glenn Gould in the Aria from Bach’s
Goldberg variations. We made qualitative analyses of transcriptions of their recordings, and
conducted an online survey of listeners’ perceptions of the difference between two record-
ings of the same piece played by the same performers. In this chapter we wish to explore
the question of how silence acts relationally – in moments of temporal expansion and contraction,
in which different phases of the music suggest different rates of temporal unfolding – as a dimension of
voicing performance creativity.

Silence as a Space-Time Performance Practice

Silence, it has been argued, is a relational and emergent ‘cutting’ of sound’s multifarious
presences (Brackett, 2016). Similarly, Coggins (2016) suggests we should view genre, like
silence, as a ‘constellation’ of reference points which upholds listeners’ subjective responses
and mediates the enactment of performance creativity. Just as silence performs and interacts
differently with different social, political and environmental settings, silence is both mate-
rial and corporeal, existing in time and space in performance creativity.
What then do diverse music performance practices reveal about silence? Silence is seen
to reveal the sublime. For example, Handel’s audacious and rule-breaking silences are seen
as rhetorical interruptions and considered and experienced as sublime. In the performance
practices of Indian classical music, there are pauses and interruptions, but the sublime
moment of silence is a heightened moment of acute senses, a moment of suspended ani-
mation, when time seems to stand still. In the concert hall, Cage’s 4’33” acknowledges
the impossibility of silence; consequently, any sound heard or made in relation to the ex-
pectations and conventions of musical performance makes audible the ‘dematerialisation
of the object of composition, emptying the score of its musical sounds’ (Voegelin, 2010,
p. 81). For Miles Davis, who made the performative value of the silent space or absence
of sound even more explicit, ‘It’s not the notes you play, it’s the notes you don’t play’ (da
Fonseca-Wollheim, 2019).
John Coltrane’s ‘sheets of sound’ approach to playing offered an alternative aesthetic in
which long musical lines, comprising multi-noted patterns, were characterised by the ab-
sence of silence. Coltrane’s deep involvement with what he was playing meant that his solos
went on for some time ‘I get involved in the thing and I don’t know how to stop’. On one
occasion Miles replied, ‘Try taking the saxophone out of your mouth!’ (Carr, 1998, p. 167).
So, what can we learn from crossing the thresholds of diverse performance practices and
performance spaces, when we consider how silence matters? For some the significance and
role of silence in music is a well-worked furrow. Nevertheless, there remain a number of
questions about how musicians use, perform and understand silence in relation to sound,
and how silence contributes to a player’s performance creativity, meaning their authorial or
expressive voice.
In the humanities and performance arts, the aesthetic and social function of silence as
an act has been considered a grounding force in forming knowledge, and a space for re-
flection and emotion. Modernist composers such as Anton Webern and Salvatore Sciarrino
have scrutinised silence, seeing it in intimate relation with sound or, as with John Cage,
have sought to erase the line between silence and sound and thereby between music and
sound (Metzer, 2006). In musicology, silence has been considered as both shaping music
as an aesthetic (Harris, 2005) and bypassing the aesthetic and cultural premise of music
(Wong, 2014).
The COVID-19 pandemic and the impact of lockdown strategies across the world have
given an even greater significance to studies, such as the present one, that attempt to engage
 Making Silence Matter  431
2
with the salience of silence. As performances in the presence of physical audiences have
ceased, musicians have sought to develop new ways to create and share music with listeners,
taking innovative approaches to spanning the gulf of silence. Along with finding ways for
music to be heard, musicians have also needed to cope with the experience of playing to
virtual audiences, where the absence of the physical presence of listeners has exposed the
significance of the shared silences embodied in performance.

What Does the Study of Enactments of Silence Reveal about Music?

Samuel Wilson argues in his recently published book New Music and the Crises of Material-
ity (2021) that if ‘music writes bodily discourses, and bodies are one matter of music as a
discourse, this can also be compared productively with other kinds of writing’ (p. 30). If
this is so, then how is making silence one of most lucid moments of one’s production of
performance creativity? As an example of how silence reveals the sublime, Handel’s ‘audacious and
rule-breaking silences’, which have been seen as rhetorical interruptions, are now being
posited as a reason for his music being considered and experienced as ‘sublime’ (Harris,
2005, p. 558). Harris draws an analogy here with Longinus’s idea that ‘sublimity is the echo
of a noble mind’ (p. 556). In the intimacy of silence and sound, the fine line between the
interior of a person and the exterior social world is a space of silence that for the composer
Luigi Dono carries deep feelings, and for Salvatore Sciarrino, madness and spirituality
(Metzer, 2006).
In Indian classical music, there are pauses and interruptions, but the sublime moment of
silence is a heightened moment of acute senses, a moment of suspended animation, when
time seems to stand still. The pause in Indian classical music is an opportunity for the artist
to do something new, something fresh, something of higher quality; it evokes a heightened
sense of anticipation in the listener, priming them to enter a heightened state of listening,
whereby the pause can be a spectacular entry or a glorious interruption. In north Indian
music, the silent space khali is also the space between two beats, implied with the wave of a
hand, and ‘forms the basis of time keeping’ without which it would be difficult to find the
sam, the first beat, the beginning of the cycle (Courtney, 2020).
In antiphonal singing in Western psalm chants, where two halves of a community sing alter-
nate verses, there is in the middle of each verse a pause for breath, the media distinctio, which
Hornby and Maloy (2013, p. 31) propose heightens a sense of communal unity. The music
does not disappear in this silence but ‘functions temporarily and temporally on a different
level’ (Williamson, 2013, p. 31), as the pause for breath signals a shift from an embodied
performance of music to a collective performance of silence. For Pauline Oliveros one of
the most interesting moments in an improvisation is the silence that precedes the first sound:

It’s a beautiful moment because anything could happen. And nobody knows necessarily
in an improvisation what is going to happen … I think that moment is really special.
The moment the first sound is there then the waveform collapses – meaning that the
potential has now got a direction. Whereas before it didn’t have a direction. That’s
what makes it so special you know.
(Rose, 2017, p. 200)

Whether improvised or notated, silence is not an absence of music; silence is directly related to
sound, a formative element of music involving ‘the coordination of sonorities and silences’
(Clifton, 1983, p. 163). Music psychologists recognise that the silence between notes may
be as important for what makes music as the notes themselves, and they have investigated
empirically how silences affect the perception and experience of music, for example, in
432  Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen
anticipating the end of a phrase or perceiving a dramatic moment, by experimenting with
the placements of silences and their lengths (Margulis, 2007).
Yet, despite rich historical and cultural depths of expressing silence in music, silence tends to
be defined in the West as ‘the absence of sound’ (de Visscher, 2014, p. 197) and is often sig-
nalled by the instruction that an instrument should not play or a voice should not utter. This
suggests a simple relationship between sound and silence, a binary that privileges sound (e.g.
playing) over silence. This relationship is rendered more complex when we consider other
terms that are used to represent a silence in music, for example rest and pause, which differ
from tacet, which is the instruction not to play at all. A rest is a notational device indicating
silence for a specific duration of time; the signs for rests correspond to the duration of notes.
The experience of a pause in music, defined as ‘a short silence’, is indicated by a sign placed
over a note, chord or rest which, in performance, ‘is to be prolonged at the performer’s
will’ (Scholes, 1964, p. 433). The composer Harrison Birtwistle argues that the distinction
between a pause and a silence has to be felt, as it cannot be prescribed (personal communi-
cation, 1 November 2019). The locale of this condition – performing silence – is played out
by the body, through the body, as sounding oneself. As argued by Samuel Wilson in his 2021
book, New Music and the Crises of Materiality when he says ‘music tells us what the body is’
(p. 44), is it this attunement to silence that is experienced with/in our bodies as the locale
and an incipient ecology of performance creativity?
In Japan, however, silence is privileged over sound with the Japanese concept of ma,
which is the silent and empty space in between the notes, a space of contemplation, energy
and creative potential. Ma is also a sense of place in relation to the whole; hence in music a
pause is related to the whole.
These examples from history and a range of cultures reveal a rich and complex relation-
ship between silence and music, in which silence is energy, a creative space in between the
notes, a creative space in between sound and movement, a sublime suspended animation
and a pause that may be a glorious interruption. These ideas and musical practices may also
be seen in the cultural practices of silence in performing rituals and artistic practice, and
these may shed further light on the parameters of the use of silence in creative practice. For
example, in Japan, the performance of ritual in the chado tearoom takes place in a space of
dialogue and contemplation that is conducted in silence, where participants set aside the
concerns of everyday life in a suspended time away from an otherwise unpredictable and
violence-prone world. In this space, one is not bound by the limits of language, and one
can engage in a kind of flow.
From contemplation in the dialogic ritual of silence to contemplation in the self-dialogue of an
artist, Matisse reflects on how in silence one can seek oneself, see oneself, then translate
this seeking and seeing into the artwork. For him, every creative act comes from one’s
inner vision, light and contemplation through the silence of the paintbrush (see Caranfa,
2014). And, reflecting on the elusiveness of silence, as conceptualised by Merleau-Ponty
(1968), language communicates and performs the silence that is wished for and enveloped
by language.
Silence may also extend a sound, movement, utterance or brushstroke, as in Japanese Noh
theatre:

The movement that is allowed in Noh theatre is only a moment’s movement. You need
to stage the silence after that moment of movement so that it becomes movement that
extends beyond that moment. It is a reversal of silence and movement.
( Japanese playwright Kensuke Yokouchi, as cited in Kenny, 2011, pp. 100–101)

The performance art of drama recognises that

 Making Silence Matter  433
The space around, between, or beyond words may be deployed to great effect, creating
suspense or contrast, and highlighting the significance or insignificance of what is ac-
tually said. Audiences can be drawn into the stage by silences, or be fascinated by the
ways in which playwrights evoke the inarticulate.
(Kenny, 2011, p. 98)

From the arts we gain further richly complex understandings of the role of silence in crea-
tive processes: silence suspends time and opens dialogic spaces for contemplation with others
and with self; silence is flow; silence can extend movement beyond the moment; and silence is
flexible, available for many possible meanings in reciprocity with words, actions and sounds.
These may be added to the parameters of silence in music.
In sum, silence is much more than the simple absence of sound. These illustrations of the
parameters of silence in creative performance drawn from literature, painting, dance, the-
atre, tea ceremony and music come from diverse creative practices and cultures, and offer
fertile ground for investigating musicians’ use, performance and understanding of silence in
relation to sound, and the potential role of silence in the listener’s perception of the player’s
creative and authorial, expressive voice.

The Importance of Silence in Performative Practices across Genres

The following discussion explores two contrasting viewpoints on the relationship between
sound and silence in music: the conceptual perspective of John Cage (1912–1992), who
challenged the conceptualisation of the nature of silence in his composition 4’33” and the
practice of jazz drummer John Stevens (1940–1994), who proposed that sound and silence
are equal and opposite. Both of these positions go beyond understanding silence in music
as merely ‘not playing’ and enable us to interrogate the mechanism of silence within music
performance and advance the discourse on the manifestation of silences as intentional or
unintentional, relational and collaborative, underpinned by the authorial voice of a com-
poser or performer.
Any discussion of the relationship between silence and sound has to take into account the
contribution of John Cage, ‘an obligatory point of passage’ (de Visscher, 2014, p. 196), who
problematised the way we perceive silence at both a conceptual and a compositional level.
Conceptually, his expectations of silence were challenged by his experience of entering an
anechoic chamber, a place of no echoes. Up to that point he had maintained a conception
of silence as an absence of sound; however within that space he realised that absolute silence
does not exist, as the body is always producing sound, such as the working of the nervous
system and blood pulsing through our circulatory system. ‘And so silence becomes the set
of all non-intentional sounds and is expressed as an attitude of listening and openness’ (de
Visscher, 2014, p. 197).
This insight encouraged Cage to react against approaches that privileged the intentional-
ity3 of the composer and over an extended period of time he developed his ideas about the
possibilities of music, embracing the influence of composers such as Varèse, who was open-
ing music up to include noise and silence, and Zen Buddhist philosophy. His compositions
utilised structures that were based on time frames, not on tones, ‘because only duration is
common to both sound and silence’ (de Visscher, 2014, p. 196). The iconic composition
4’33” became ‘the logical conclusion to Cage’s quest for self-withdrawal from his work’
(Griffiths, 1995, p. 28) and occupied a central place in his oeuvre (de Visscher, 2014).
In 4’33” the performer is instructed to be tacet and to adopt the stance of someone who is
about to play. This establishes a reciprocal relationship between the performer and the au-
dience, a channel for social, musical and artistic interaction in which the audience recognise
434  Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen
that any sounds they make will be part of the piece. Speaking after the première of 4’33”
Cage said:

They missed the point. There’s no such thing as silence. What they thought was silence,
because they didn’t know how to listen, was full of accidental sounds. You could hear
the wind stirring outside during the first movement. During the second, raindrops
began pattering the roof, and during the third the people themselves made all kinds of
interesting sound as they talked or walked out.
(Kostelanetz, 2003, p. 70)

In what ways did Cage manage to problematise how we perceive silence and what con-
tribution did he make? First, in his writings he foregrounded the significance of silence.
Second, he challenged the binary view that privileges sound over silence. Third, the way
we hear silence has been changed by his claim that silence is impossible. Compositionally,
he embraced non-intentionality by adopting structural forms based on time frames within
which non-intentional and accidental sounds can be acknowledged, thereby silencing his
authorial voice. From an audience’s perspective, Cage’s music demands that we learn how
to listen, to hear silence as a material presence of intentional and non-intentional sounds
that demand equal value and attention.
While Cage denies the possibility of silence, the jazz drummer John Stevens perceives
silence and sound as being equal and opposite. John Stevens, a leading figure in the London
free jazz scene and founding member of the Spontaneous Music Ensemble, played a key role
in developing a distinctive practice for non-idiomatic/free improvisation in Europe. Ste-
vens’ performance practice included improvised music workshops that were ‘not exclusive
in their intention but inclusive; anyone can play, regardless of formal technical accomplish-
ment’ (Stevens, 1985, p. iv). The workshop exercises that he created are published in Search
and Reflect (Stevens, 1985).
For Stevens rhythm is fundamental to the language of music and it emerges from the
equal relationship between sound and its opposite, silence. A property that is common to
both sound and silence is duration, achieved by manipulating the length of sound from a
click (the shortest possible sound) to a sustain (the longest possible sound). Rhythm manifests
itself through attending to the lengths of the silences and the sounds.
Stevens argues that if sound is taken as a starting point then this immediately implies the
opposite, the absence of sound, which is silence. For him music making is about being aware of
silence as a positive, and equally important, musical ingredient that co-exists alongside sound.
Giving silence and sound equal value requires those playing these pieces to give attention to
what they are not playing as well as to what and when they are playing. Consequently, the
ability to listen with care and attention and to be able to collaborate is more significant than
individual performing skills. As Lash points out, ‘Listening is of primary importance while im-
provising. Indeed, guitarist Fred Frith once described the London improvisation scene as being
one of “virtuoso listening”’ (2013, p. 4.). For Stevens the development of listening skills allows
us to engage with and appreciate the significance of silence. Whereas Cage perceives silence
as a space for unintentional and accidental sounds, Stevens sees silence as a space that invites
musicians to contribute intentional sounds and respond intuitively to the unique sound-silence
environment of each improvisation. A similar perspective to Stevens is seen in Frank Zappa’s
concept of the time hole where ‘a composer … goes around forcing his will on unsuspecting air
molecules’ within a pocket of silence (Zappa with Occhiogrosso, 1990, p. 162).
These two contrasting perspectives illustrate that music is a complex landscape in which
silence emerges from, and is particularly salient to, the creative possibilities between space,
time and sound as an aesthetic and interpreted expression (Born, 2013, p. 5). They also raise
 Making Silence Matter  435
questions about why silence features so little in performance practice studies when its sig-
nificance as a performative act and perceptual process is so great. Research in sound studies
has had little to say about music’s entanglement of time-space and sonic-spatial practices,
which include not only the nesting of performance and composition4 of acoustic space but
‘the confluence of acoustic, political, social and public spaces’ (Born, 2013, p. 5). The crea-
tive possibilities of the boundaries between music, sound and space, and ways of addressing
music as both performance and event (Cook, 2001) suggest the salience of silence can be
found in its generative and non-generative dimensions.
And so in returning to what characterises the salience of silence in relation to sound, as
evidenced in diverse practices, what matters is that we are attuned to:

a the particularity of the space of silence in music performance practices;

b the localisation of silence and sound in physical and perceptual space; and
c the creation of performance creativity and its ability to voice artists’ inherent manifesta-
tion, illumination or expression of their musical self.

So, while silence has been treated as a quite uniform entity in musicological studies, the
complex structure of sound and silence gives rise to a number of different kinds of questions
about how silence is put to work in different performance practices and how this becomes
manifest in music education. For example, and elaborating further from the previous ques-
tions, what differences are there between composition-based performances, as found in
Western classical music, where silence is largely determined by the composer prior to the
performance, and jazz performance practices (which are improvisational), where silence can
be utilised by the performer in the moment?
The relationship between improvisation5 and composition is a complex and contested
matter. One approach is to see them as binary, opposed concepts, constructed on the ba-
sis of perceived fundamental differences in which composition is presented as a superior
form of creativity that is ‘thought through’, an aesthetic of perfection (Hamilton, 2007a),
whereas improvisation is what happens on the spur of the moment. A more nuanced ap-
proach is to see improvisation and compositions as two ends of a continuum that share the
common characteristic of the dynamic interplay between fixed, non-negotiable structures
and emergent structures that permit variation and adaptation (Sorensen, 2014) and embody
individual and sociocultural authorings of diverse creativities through engagement with
sound which provides us with a pathway to the good life (Randles, 2020).
The difference between composition and improvisation creativities, whether scripted or
unscripted performance practices, can be seen as a matter of degree, the extent to which
the performance creativity manifests in practical terms the materiality of scripted sound spaces
that delimit the degree to which performers are permitted to exercise their agency. Maybe
the relationship between improvisation and compositional creativities is best understood by
performers being permitted greater or lesser agentic licence, and a significant aspect of that
agentic licence is concerned with where, when and how silences are placed within the music.
This suggests that the different parameters of the performance of silence, such as tempo-
rality, spatiality, interpretation, intentionality and non-intentionality, are present in both
scripted (compositional) and unscripted (improvisational) performance practices; however,
the extent to which they give agency6 to the performer is a matter of degree.

Rethinking the Materiality of Silence

There is a tension at the heart of the discourses that characterise the relationality between
silence and sound. First, there is the binary approach, which perceives silence simply as the
436  Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen
absence of sound, which we call the tacet perspective, and which privileges sound (i.e. play-
ing) over silence (i.e. not playing). Second, there is the perception that sound and silence
have an equal relationship. Central to this performance practice is the aim to make musi-
cians aware of the silence into which they are placing their sounds. The third view is that
temporal silences act as structural frames within which music can exist. The score no longer
represents the musical ideas heard and intended by the composer but delineates a time frame
within which sounds may occur.
The relationship between sound and silence is clearly fundamental to the way that we
perform and perceive music. This leads us to the question of how we pinpoint the manifes-
tation of silence in diverse performance practices as an expressive parameter that contributes
to the formation of an authorial voice and/or performance creativity and the role of audience
perception. Three key ideas from within Chinese thought, by social psychologist music
education researcher, C. Victor Fung (2017), come to mind here – that of change, balance
and liberation through the ying-yang relationality and entanglement of sound and silence.
In our earlier study we found that Miles Davis and Glenn Gould had different approaches
to the way that silence is used. These differences appear to stem from different performance
practices that were grounded in aesthetic judgements relating to the agency that each musi-
cian allowed themselves in relation to dialogue and interpretation. We found that:

1 Miles Davis’s performance practice appeared to be primarily concerned with his own
sound, interpretation and aura as a jazz musician. The intentionality underscoring his
performance practice appears to have a unique quality informed by in-the-moment de-
cisions that mark each performance out as being different from previous performances,
allowing him greater interpretative leeway, which includes permission to adapt the
tune.
Similarly, American jazz saxophonist and composer John Coltrane, a major figure in the
evolution of modern jazz, said, ‘The reason I play so many sounds, maybe it sounds angry, is
because I’m trying so many things at one time, you see? I haven’t sorted them out. I have a
whole bag of things that I’m trying to work through and get the one essential’ (Kentake, 2015).
2 Glenn Gould’s performance practice, by contrast, was also concerned with interpre-
tation but this was confined within the tighter parameters established by the compo-
sition, which provide limited opportunity for adaptation. This is often referred to as
the ‘feel’ that a jazz musician brings to a performance. Similarly, American Jazz pianist
Lennie Tristano’s underlying belief was that ‘the jazz musicians’ function is “to feel”’.
He stated in an interview that ‘You have to be influenced by all great musicians, no
matter what instrument they play, because the essence of jazz is feeling, it’s not really
the notes, it’s the feeling behind’ (Shim 2007, p. 124).
3 Miles Davis, as one of the greatest jazz trumpeters in history, appears to have been able
to create new silences that were not in earlier performances. These seem to have been
made in the moment by sensing when silences could interrupt the temporal flow. This
creates anticipation and tension within the music. These could be called macro-silences
and are both intentional and intuitive, an example of the musician’s agency. ‘Silence’,
one of the pieces performed by the Ornette Coleman Trio at the Fairfield Halls Croy-
don on August 29, 1965, is a rare example of a jazz tune that deliberately exploits the
way in which silences interrupt the temporal flow of the music. ‘Silence’ begins loud
and fast, until a huge split alto-sax tone leads to sudden silence; passages of fiery phrases
alternate with rubato silences, then, though at times faint, momentary bass and percus-
sion enter the silences (once, a soft instance of bass is struck dead by a drum shot); the
silences are the theme of the work, with interludes of happy or passionate or ferocious
playing (Litweiler, 1992, p. 200). The first significant silence, coming some 23 seconds
 Making Silence Matter  437
into the performance, elicits a pattern of applause from the audience which fades away
as they comprehend that the silences are part of the piece and that it is not over.
4 Glenn Gould did not create silences in the music in this way and there are certainly no
extended pauses between the phrases. Given that his purpose was to be faithful to the
written score, his attention was to the micro-silences that separate one note from another
in an attempt to give each note its due and appropriate attention. The precision in Gould’s
playing was a consequence of his attention to detail, especially in the relationship between
one note and another. He was able to achieve this in the recording studio, recording pas-
sages several times until he achieved a take that satisfied his intentions as a performer.
5 Miles Davis’s interpretation of the theme of ‘Round Midnight’ allowed him to leave
notes out (i.e. to silence them), adapting Thelonious Monk’s original theme to create
his own interpretation, a personalised and minimal account of Monk’s original tune.
Glenn Gould’s aesthetic did not allow him to remove or extend the written passages.
However, he did permit himself to play the music at a slower tempo in his later record-
ing from 1981, expanding the amount of time in which to play the piece. This could
be seen as expanding the frame of silence into which he placed the notes. The greater
amount of time and space in the later recording allowed him to attend to the way that
the notes were placed in relation to each other. American improviser and saxophonist
Lee Konitz does not consider it is possible to really improvise when playing really fast
as this does not give time to think and you have to rely on pre-conceived patterns. He
has said ‘One of the reasons I wasn’t able to do that (play fast and strong) is that I didn’t
know what I was going to play … you can play as strongly as you want when you’re not
thinking about what note to select’ (Hamilton, 2007b: 106). Slower tempos match the
speed that he can think as an improviser.

In summary, we can say that as the most potent amplifier of silence in performance practice,
Miles Davis’s use of silence could be characterised as the art of subtraction in which silences are
introduced into the music and notes are left out. In contrast, Glenn Gould’s use of silence
was more subtle, an art of attention to the spaces between the notes, to the micro-silences which,
in the later recording, allowed him to give greater attention to the detail of the music. What
these two artists help us to understand is that the relationship between silences and sounds,
the choices that inform decisions about when to play and when not to play, significantly
shape the authorial voice of the performer. This is clearly illustrated if we consider the
counter-example of John Coltrane, who played with Miles Davis from 1955 to 1960 prior
to leading his own groups. Compositions such as ‘Giant Steps’, or the later ‘Meditations’
demonstrate a wide range of expressive possibilities from obsessive harmonic explorations
to wild and tormented free playing. He aimed for a sweeping sound, thinking ‘in groups
of notes, not one at a time’ (Ratliffe, 2007, p. 42), ‘stacking’ three chords on to one and
needing to place as many notes as possible within the space of a bar. Coltrane’s sound, as ‘a
full and sensible embodiment of his artistic personality, such that it can be heard, at best, in
a single note’ (Ratliffe, 2007, p. x), is as much an erasure of silence. In this respect Coltrane’s
authorial voice provided the yin to Miles Davis’s yang, a creative contrast derived from
differing relationships with silence and sound.

By Way of Conclusion
In this chapter we have investigated how silence is manifest in musical performance creativity.
We have explored the way in which performance cultures and performing artists utilise si-
lence in relation to sound as a potential parameter of authorial voice, and how silence affects
the listener’s perception of the player’s authorial voice.
438  Pamela Burnard and Nick Sorensen
We found that the performance of silence is a purposive performative act. The recogni-
tion of silence is scripted and scored through the body – sounding oneself as a technology of
performance creativity – and in the perceptual apprehension of the bodily experience silence is
sounded as a condition of the materiality of sound. Silence, performance practice and perfor-
mance creativity come together as sound and silences that count as something new, original,
fresh and refreshed in the authoring of a performance. The silence of the ensemble gives
meaning to the performance of solo instruments. This is an example of the silencing of all but
a few possible sounds, based on culture, so that the remaining sounds have meaning due to
the silences, as creative spaces stretching the time frames that have been created around them.
Despite the vast range of possible ways of dividing up time and space, whether the unit of
measurement is tones, or units of time, the separation or space between sound and silence is
a temporal interval and the passage from one to the other always entails a choice. What does
this understanding mean for music education? How, then, should the relationship between
sound and silence be realigned and foregrounded in questions about performance creativity and
how might all of this inspire innovation in music education? We offer three ways to enable
its potentials beyond the limitations of institutions.
The first way is foregrounding the importance of listening, attending to the ways in
which sounds engage in a dynamic relationship with silence and the ways that this propels
an authorial voice of/in/through performance, built on time and space which emerge si-
multaneously. This challenges music educators to engage with the pedagogical possibilities
of alternative staging choices, in-the-round performance spaces, new ways of experiencing
and voicing performance creativity, and moving beyond sounds in space and time into differ-
ently performed silent spaces.
Second, following Stevens’ example, educators can reclaim workshops as a site for recon-
structing performance and inviting learning communities to think of/about/with silence as
a text with which to create material, corporeal entities. This could start with a discussion
of the phenomenology of how we experience silence and then lead to considering the re-
lationship of sound and silence in diverse performance practices. Focusing on the rhythms,
repetitions and sound-silence relations can lead to considering the spaces in which practice
and/or teaching takes place. Reflecting on how silence functions as a performance creativity
can open up spaces for collaborative dances among players, within the processes of rehears-
ing and devising performances.
Third, by making a privileged space for silence, as part of an authorial practice and dis-
course of music performance, the phenomenon becomes foundational to authoring certain
performance practices, supporting a quest for the new and the innovative. When such seem-
ingly ordinary participatory gestures (performing silence) carry an unexpected potential for
new forms of material production, they call attention to and allow a shift away from the old
assumptions underlying certain forms of performance creativity. Each of these understandings
invites an expansion of performance practices, a broadening terrain for developing innovative
methodologies that blur the boundaries between audiences and performers. The intersections
and borders between the space of sound and silence may become less accidental and more
about a reimagining of the relationship of music to education and to society. Music education
could be a means of transforming the agency, discourse (language) and practice of performance
creativity in ways that are not necessarily predetermined by the makers of the artworks alone.

Questions for Consideration

1 There is a need to develop the practice and discourse on silence and the ways in which
the use of silence reveals aspects of the authorial voice of composers and performers.
The choices that inform their use of silences are as significant as the choices made in the
 Making Silence Matter  439
use of melody, harmony, rhythm and timbre. How does musical silence open musical
possibilities and questions of musical materiality and conventions of performance and
performance creativity in your practice and programme?
2 When is silence possibly the most lucid moment of one’s experiential production of
sound? Reflect on what you listen to and the soundscape of your sonic life-world. How
do you experience sound out of silence as a relationship? What does silence emphasise?
What does silence contribute to the co-construction (by performer and audience) of
performance creativity? When is there a dialectical differentiation? When and how do
you hear sounds in silence? Miles Davis said, ‘In music, silence is more important than
sound’ (Brian Eno News, 2013). Do you agree with this?
3 As music educators, what should we rethink about performance creativity as manifest in
the temporality of material sounds emerging out of silence? What does this bring to
the silences that are composed, performed, perceived and talked about? What are the
implications for the assessment of performance creativity?

Notes
1 Music psychologist Jane Davidson explains that we should view performance creativity in relation to
‘persona, competence and group interaction, improvisatory practices, emotion and inter-subjectivity,
entrainment of groove and reception’ (2014, p. 180).
2 Salience comes from the Latin word salire, meaning to leap. Something with salience leaps out at you
because it is unique or special in some way (https://www.vocabulary.com). The Oxford English Dic-
tionary defines salience as ‘most noticeable or important’.
3 From a phenomenological perspective, intentionality is concerned with the fact that all consciousness
is consciousness of something or is directed towards something (Macey, 2001).
4 Composition: a type of creativity resulting in creative work containing predetermined ideas that have
been arranged or organised in the most ideal way (Burnard, 2012).
5 Improvisation: a type of spontaneous and intentional creativity, occurring in real time as a conse-
quence of the dynamic interplay between fixed and generative structures and interactions (with other
performers, audience or materials; Sorensen, 2014).
6 Agency: the capacity to act or take action according to the conditions of a given environment (Bur-
nard, 2012).

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37 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated
and Remote Educational Activities
Harmonic Walk and Live Patching
Damián Keller, Marcella Mandanici and Marcello Messina

Prelude
Two factors – locations and stakeholders – played an important role in shaping the first wave
of ubimus initiatives. During its first decade of development, the field of ubimus encouraged
the access to creative experiences by people who were previously considered just passive
consumers of musical products. Another ubimus goal entailed the creative exploration of
sites and contexts that were out of reach for musical practices. Ubimus targets included: to
erase the barriers to music-making encountered by newcomers and casual participants, and
to expand the limits of what it means to make music. Both objectives remain valid today.
But the palette of ubimus methods and conceptual frameworks has been greatly expanded.
Consequently, the label of a second wave of ubimus initiatives is well justified.
New forms of music-making fostered by the ubimus conceptual frameworks acquire a
special relevance during the current times of scarcity. Reduced physical mobility, lack of
face-to-face, physical interaction and avoidance of crowds are all detrimental factors for
acoustic-instrumental musical thinking. Will musical robots, musical algorithms or refined
methods of data analysis replace music-making as it was done during the 20th century?
Lazzarini et al. state that

[the current] changes are not limited to the application of technology or to the sonic
results. They affect the whole chain of social and material relationships that perme-
ate the musical endeavours. Therefore, these emerging cultural practices demand
flexible frameworks that support rapid technical reconfigurations, while enforcing a
cautious and responsible attitude towards [their] potential environmental and social
consequences.
(Lazzarini et al. 2020: 1)

Such concerns are at the core of several ubimus research initiatives and are particularly rel-
evant for ubimus educational initiatives (see also Burnard 2007).
Consider, for instance, the emerging subfield of lay-musician interaction. Various stud-
ies indicate that the motivations to join in a musical activity may vary, depending on the
subjects’ level of domain-specific training (Ferreira et al. 2016; Lima et al. 2012). Precon-
ceptions on what is or what is not a musical activity impact the attitude of the stakeholders,
sometimes enticing them to be part of the activity (especially when laypeople see trained
musicians playing) and in other occasions dissuading the potential participants to engage
in group activities (as a byproduct of what is thought to be acceptable for public settings)
(cf. Montero et al. 2010). Consequently, ubimus support strategies for lay-musician interac-
tion need to move beyond the deployment of technological infrastructure and encompass
the cognitive and social factors at play. These contrasting forces have motivated the notions

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-43
442  Damián Keller et al.
of ecologies and ecosystems, within the context of a second-wave ubimus initiative: ecolog-
ically grounded creative practice (Keller and Lazzarini 2017; Lazzarini et al. 2020).
Enhanced support for social interaction is one of the pressing needs of a post-­coronavirus
world. The deleterious impact of the neoliberal economic policies – with a lack of le-
gal restrictions on the financial accumulation and the political influence of hedge-fund
conglomerates – has reduced the access of vulnerable social groups to healthy food and
reasonable shelter. The Syrian and Venezuelan migrant crises – both induced by ongo-
ing campaigns to conquer oil reserves – have placed millions of people in a potentially
catastrophic situation. The consequences of the lack of shelter and food cannot be over-
stated. But the current restrictions on social interaction, especially when considering
children, may also have long-lasting negative effects. Life through online interactions has
limitations. Collaborative music-making by means of ubimus ecosystems could furnish
opportunities to avoid some of the negative aspects of current online exchanges while
encouraging meaningful forms of engagement through distant socialization (Brown et al.
2014; Brown et al. 2018). The educational possibilities of these approaches are ample but
remain unexplored.
This chapter tackles emerging conceptual and practical issues related to the deploy-
ment of ubimus ecosystems in educational contexts. As mentioned above, these contexts
have been radically changed by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Despite these drastic
changes, the design frameworks featured in various ubimus projects may furnish answers
to the recent educational demands, entailing either distant socializing or touchless human-­
computer interaction. Two case studies serve as examples and highlight the opportunities
and limitations of the ubimus designs for formal and informal education: the Harmonic
Walk Metaphor and Intercontinental Live Patching. The results of these studies are placed
within the context of the second-wave ubimus frameworks. The final section of the chapter
addresses their potential for future ubimus deployments.

Ubimus beyond Musical Genres

For many years, the acoustic-instrumental paradigm has limited the musical activities to
actions exerted by humans on resonant objects designed exclusively for humans. According
to Lazzarini and Keller (2020), the usage of interfaces and resources to emulate the behav-
ior of European orchestral instruments is a prime example of this type of genre-specific
knowledge. Such music practices focus on the resources produced through the instrumental
performance of acoustic and digitally emulated acoustic instruments. Rather than “musi-
cal”, this knowledge should be labeled “orchestral” or, more precisely, “piano-”, “clarinet-”
or “guitar-based”. This type of knowledge has limited applicability. First, it does not en-
compass the rich experiences provided by a growing variety of multimodal artistic formats
that feature hybrid forms of creative endeavors entailing the use of tangible, gustatory or
volatile epimusical resources. Second, it does not address the application of a field that has
a long standing in the history of improvisatory practices, analogue computing. Through
­ubimus-oriented developments analogue-computational devices could eventually be fea-
tured as components of the internet of musical things (Timoney et al. 2021). Furthermore,
it does not engage with the recent contributions of the ubimus-makers movement that
highlights the design of tangible resources as compositional strategies.
The acoustic-instrumental perspectives are hardly applicable to music based on vola-
tile, distributed, ametric or pitch-free resources. According to Keller, Messina and Ol-
iveira (2020: 10), current investigations converge on music-making as a key element of the
evolution of socially motivated human cognition. Ubimus creative practices indicate that
Varèse’s notion of music as organized sound is partially aligned with a genre-free approach
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  443
to creative music-making. Furthermore, if musicality is in fact grounded on evolutionary
processes built upon exchanges between human and non-human agents, then effective
knowledge-transfer mechanisms cannot be constrained to a single cultural manifestation
within a narrow period of history – much less if the chosen genre is loaded with racial,
geographical and economic biases!
Another issue of concern for educational practices that target cultural diversity is the
value ascribed to specific cultural manifestations. The musical genres that receive the seal
of the authoritative musicological knowledge present a serious danger to creative endeav-
ors.1 These genres are forcefully aligned with the tradition of instrumental music training
(an illustrative and keenly critical example is provided by Lima et al. 2012). They feature
well-trodden procedures that are formalized as instructions used by specialists to com-
municate the expected musical results. This conservative tendency acts in tandem with
the weight of tradition: “what worked well yesterday should also be effective today and
will definitely be effective tomorrow”. One argument supporting this view is the lopsided
conviction that widely used procedures are easier to adopt than innovative or original
techniques.
Given this conceptual weight or hysteresis of the knowledge pool of established
­acoustic-instrumental genres, it is not surprising that genre-neutral design frameworks are
fairly rare. There are at least two factors to consider. (1) Genre-free frameworks need to
be general enough to be applicable to rapid and drastic changes of the material conditions.
Consider, for instance, the pace of change of the mobile-platform interaction techniques.
Within a period of only a few years, touch-based support moved from single-point touch
to multitouch (McGlynn and Lazzarini 2010). Current health concerns are now pushing
the hardware industry to search for proximity-based and touchless modalities as alternatives
to touch-driven interaction (Barré et al. 2009). But if we consider the current prosumer
devices, how many design frameworks are available that can handle touch, proximity and
touchless musical interaction as a consistent set of techniques? And particularly trouble-
some for the educational field, are we prepared to deal with a future generation of portable
devices that are aware of our actions, intentions and emotions? What are the ethical and
social implications of the pervasive presence of these technologies in our everyday life?2 (2)
­Genre-free design concepts need to be specific enough to be musically useful. It may be
tempting to sweep the history of instrumental and electroacoustic compositional techniques
to look for previously successful methods to generate musical products. An example of this
trend is the endless reproduction of “laptop orchestras” and their variations for educational
purposes (Trueman 2007). Why not propose design metaphors based on ubiquitous serial-
ism (to revisit Babbitt) or how about refloating the tenuous Schaefferian phenomenology
through an internet of musical objects? Recycling a technique for usage in a different mate-
rial or cultural context may sometimes be applicable. But the relevance of a compositional
technique rests on a tightly knit set of social, political and economic factors that shape both
the individual and the collective aesthetic needs (Haworth 2015). The mechanical reappro-
priation of old musical technologies may not live up to the drastically modified educational
requirements of a pandemic-ridden world.

Knowledge Transfer in Second-Wave Ubimus

Some areas of ubimus – despite the intrinsic caveats of jitter and delay of any network-based
activity (Barbosa 2010) – strive to deploy computational resources for distributed synchro-
nous activities. For a small number of time-sensitive applications, emerging fast protocols
such as the tactile internet could eventually provide partial solutions to synchronization and
speed of transmission (Maier et al. 2016). Nevertheless, it should be stressed that there is
444  Damián Keller et al.
no free lunch. Homo sapiens groups have been doing music possibly since the beginning of
their biological history (Mithen 2007). There is mounting evidence that socialization is an
important factor for the healthy development of human cognition. Hence technologies that
ignore or hijack – for commercial or sectarian purposes – our dependence on community
exchanges sever the implicit bonds of trust that foster the development of musicality and
socialization (more on this below). It is very dangerous to replace physical presence, human
contact and other processes of musically based social bonding with prosthetics. These issues
need to be at the forefront of the initiatives to develop the hybrid human-machine ecosys-
tems that will enable music-making in the times of pandemics. Aspects to be considered
include facial expressions, temporalities and territorialities.
Are facial expressions necessary for musical knowledge transfer? Acoustic-instrumental
practices built around fixed scores, centralized decision-making and linear organization
of time would appear to indicate so. There are two aspects to consider as complementary
and interrelated: temporality and semantics. Tempo, beat or pulse, bar or measure and
rhythmic figures are all forms of temporal organization intrinsically tied to m ­ eter-based
music-making. The metaphors derived from Creative Semantic Anchoring3 [ASC] (Keller
and Feichas 2017; Keller et al. 2020; Messina and Mejía 2020) furnish an illustrative ex-
ample of support for temporalities that do not require the use of meter but that could
eventually incorporate metric-oriented resources (when and if required by the musical
context). From an educational perspective, by skewing the use of traditional notation
ASC may foster larger and quicker accessibility to nonmusicians. Ascribable to the ubimus
formulations of ASC, the tool Playsound.Space supports collaborative actions to trigger,
organize and categorize sonic resources and/or to perform collaborative musical activities
through meaningful verbal tokens (Stolfi 2020; Stolfi, Milo and Barthet 2019). While it
is true that some collaborative ubimus activities have relied on explicit verbal exchanges
to support collective decision-making, recent ubimus practices indicate that synchro-
nous face-to-face interactions are not required to achieve musically effective knowledge
transfer.4
A key contribution of ubimus to a broader understanding of musical theory is its ability
to deal with time without resorting to genre-specific mechanisms (Keller and Lazzarini
2017). Ubimus ecosystems let the stakeholders deal with their sonic resources through the
organization of temporalities rather than through the imposition of meter. For instance,
time tagging uses local acoustic cues for decision-making; graphic-procedural tagging
employs selected visual features of found resources as visual triggers for musical actions;5
the Playsound.Space system uses sonograms to complement the semantics-based process
of selecting distributed materials; and the Sound Sphere Metaphor provides a combination
of color-coding, tones of gray and airport-style abbreviations of semantic labels to furnish
information on the sonic mix deployed on its virtual sphere. The stakeholders may use
various combinations of these cues to reach consensual decisions on temporalities, with-
out resorting to the beat, the measure, the time signature or any other metric-oriented
crutch.

Case 1 – Harmonic Walk: Ecological Thinking in Ubimus

Ubimus proposals involving the standardization of mobile and web protocols for
­music-making are gaining importance as targets of mainstream computer-music research.
Consider, for instance, Gurevich’s (2012) statement:

[…] standardization does have its benefits: spectators on some level know how [inter-
action with musical devices] works. Furthermore, the ubiquitous touchscreen mobile
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  445
phone and tablet offer a [rich] gestural repertoire and palette of sensing technologies.
Years of experience using and seeing others use these gestural devices have inculcated
a suite of interactional techniques and paradigms into many of us. Although there is
no substitute for embodied musical knowledge, many recent mobile apps have already
demonstrated that mobile devices can offer both a low entry fee for novices and com-
plex means for interaction.

Gurevich’s remarks targeting everyday personal devices in musical interaction design echo
the strategies employed and discussed in the early ubimus workshops and publications
(Flores et al. 2010; Keller et al. 2011; Pimenta et al. 2009).
How does the “embodied musical knowledge” mentioned in the statement above relate
to the strategies for musical interaction enabled by the ubimus ecosystems? A fine distinc-
tion is needed due to the special requirements of ubimus participation. About a decade be-
fore this concept became widely adopted by musicologists and anthropologists, ecologically
grounded creative practices applied the notion of embodiment to creative music-making
(Keller 2000; Keller and Capasso 2006). The early ecological approach to musical creativity
was not divorced from the perspectives of embedded and situated cognition, indicating an
epistemological alignment with the recently labeled E4 creativity perspective6 (Malinin
2015) and with the third-wave approaches (Cash 2013). Current developments in ubimus
point to an increase in the potential for educational applications of this approach (Lima
2020). Let us consider a subset of acoustic-instrumental knowledge that has been treated as
an abstract disembodied entity, tonal harmony.
Due to the prevalence of genre-oriented musical theory in the traditional syllabus of
higher-education courses,7 tonal harmony has been usually handled as an abstract subject.
Through a mechanical repetition of rules, the relationships between the principles of har-
mony and their practical and perceptual implications are severed (Eberlein 1996). Recent
studies have shown that very young children may have an implicit knowledge of tonal-
ity and functional harmony (Schellenberg et al. 2005; Corrigall and Trainor 2010). This
knowledge, of course, may depend on an early exposure to tonal music. Thus, the teaching
strategies need to be tailored to account for the students’ specific sociocultural contexts and
needs.
The use of space to represent harmonic relationships dates back to the Swiss mathe-
matician Leonhard Euler. In 1739, Euler published the first treatise on “tonnetz” (web of
tones)8 (Euler 1774). Nowadays, the possibilities furnished by human-computer interaction
technologies point to the spatial metaphors of harmony as a bridge between abstract musical
concepts and material proxies. For instance, Bouwer et al. (2013) report the deployment of
a prototype named Song Walker, based on a previous tool called Harmonic Space. These
systems can be described as the computational counterparts of Balzano’s (1980) perceptu-
ally inspired spatial metaphors of tonal harmony. Song Walker uses a dance mat and a Wii
controller to handle the interaction with a visual display based on the Harmonic Space
metaphor. The authors report results of a study involving 15 adult participants with vari-
ous levels of musical training, ranging from beginners to experts. The experimenters used
popular tunes and asked the participants to play chord sequences, to harmonize the tunes
and to analyze simple melodies targeting the identification of tonality. The methods were
qualitative but the results indicated interesting possibilities to be explored. Bouwer et al.
report the successful completion of the proposed tasks by most participants, involving just
a few minutes of training. Regarding the limitations, they point to the need to reconsider
the hardware to be adopted in these projects.9
Prototype 1: Harmonic Walk. As underlined by Bouwer et al.’s study, embedded-embodied
approaches that deal with abstract relationships in tonal harmony are still scarce. Our group
446  Damián Keller et al.
designed and deployed the prototype Harmonic Walk, a tool for studying and practicing
harmonic tasks. By following a sequence of musical chords, nonmusicians, children and
music novices are encouraged to experience the harmonic movements as trajectories in
space. This spatial metaphor involves gestural and whole-body interaction to explore this
complex domain, stimulating the perception of harmonic relationships and eliciting the
implicit knowledge derived from the subjects’ daily exposure to tonal music.
Following the theories of Hugo Riemann, Harmonic Walk divides the conceptual space
into primary chords – namely tonic (T), dominant (D) and subdominant (SD) – and parallel
chords, that is, parallel tonic (Tp), parallel dominant (Dp) and parallel subdominant (Sdp)
(Riemann 1896). The prototype targets chords belonging to the same key. Each chord is
played when the user steps on the corresponding landmark. The spatial delimitation of the
primary- and parallel-chord areas may ease identifying and remembering these tonal func-
tions. To achieve these goals, a simple spatial arrangement of the tonal Harmonic Space is
proposed, as depicted in Figure 37.1.
The first version of Harmonic Walk uses computer-vision techniques to track the sub-
jects’ movements. The movements are captured through a camera hanging from the ceil-
ing. This setup is particularly well suited for elementary-school settings. Students can play
timed movements according to the harmonic changes while the melodies are sung by their
classmates. Our observations indicate that this modality of participatory, full-body interac-
tion makes the experience fun and engaging, fostering curiosity and a desire to explore the
sonic relationships afforded by the harmonies. The last section of this chapter addresses the
potential for developments of this approach.

Tp

SDp Dp

parallel chords area

primary chords area

SD D

Figure 37.1  Spatial arrangement of the conceptual space featuring the two areas of primary chords (below)
and parallel chords (above).
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  447

Example 1. Harmonic Walk. https://youtu.be/c4ru468eqM0

Prototype 2: Harmonic Touch. A second prototype transferred the principles of the Harmonic
Walk Metaphor to a web-based tool. The Harmonic Touch application deals with the Har-
monic Spaces through three different tasks. The first task targets the implicit key, defined
as a chord that fits a melodic excerpt (Bigand 1993) – similar to the tonality identification
task in Bouwer et al. (2013). The harmonies follow the order displayed in Figure 37.1. The
circle is rotated randomly while the tune is played. The user can click the unlabeled buttons
(depicted in purple in Figure 37.2). The aim of the activity is to explore all the possibilities
while searching for a chord that matches the melody’s key.

Example 2. Harmonic Touch. http://harmonictouch.

lim.di.unimi.it/experience_1_explain.
php?s=5sfpco6tnh2ed35pvck227skv3
The second experience features the representation of a route that stands for the harmonic
changes of the musical excerpt. The musical material is divided into several audio files
matching the number of harmonic changes. When she perceives a harmonic change, the
participant advances along the path by clicking on each stage. If she misses a cue, the exe-
cution is interrupted. Hence, a continuous playback is achieved by a successful realization
of the task.
The third and last experience supported by the prototype Harmonic Touch involves
the harmonization of a melody. By clicking on the chords, the users create a sequence of
harmonic changes to match the melody. This task is comparable to the activity of stepping
on chords proposed for the Harmonic Walk prototype. Thus, it targets the training of the
harmonic relationships that happen in time, as directly related to the user actions.

Figure 37.2  Harmonic Touch: the first experience focuses on the search for an implicit harmony of a me-
lodic excerpt – in this case Maurice Ravel’s Bolero.
448  Damián Keller et al.

Example 3. Harmonic Touch. http://

harmonictouch.lim.di.unimi.it/experience_2_test.
php?s=4gdu4k9fjgg4jedd16cinoskm7&id=12
Results. Harmonic Walk has been tested in elementary school settings and in music-­
educational institutions. During the activities, the children moved easily within the Har-
monic Space and were able to locate and remember the positions of the chords (Mandanici
et al. 2014). After concluding exploratory sessions with the system, music students were
interviewed. Was Harmonic Walk an efficient application to foster learning of tonal har-
mony? After only a few minutes of practice, 26% of the subjects could accomplish the
melody harmonization task (Mandanici et al. 2016). Harmonic Touch was deployed with
a group of music teachers. They described the tool as very clear (64%), user friendly (52%)
and effective for music teaching (60%) (Mandanici et al. 2019).
Implications for ubimus educational practices. The adaptation of the Harmonic Walk Meta-
phor from a whole-body interactive system to a web-based platform fulfills various goals.
First, a desktop environment is easier to manage than the multiple devices required by the
­computer-vision system. The latter demands a dedicated location with a strict control of the
light sources and with restricted access. Second, the timing of the desktop-based system is
more reliable, encouraging the execution of temporally precise sequences. Finally, the web-
based prototype is particularly fit for distance learning, an important factor in the current
times, especially in places such as Italy, Brazil and the USA in which the governments’ ac-
tions to limit the pandemic have ranged from insufficient to disastrous (Figure 37.3).
The next section provides a coverage of a collaborative practice enabled by the emer-
gence of ubiquitous music ecosystems, live patching. Targeting a profile of technologically
savvy users, it offers an ideal complement to the stakeholders envisaged by the metaphors for
harmonic training. While the above examples relied on implicit musical knowledge gained
through early exposure to tonal music, live patching requires a working knowledge of com-
putational concepts without any musical genre bias. We chose these two cases to exemplify
the variety of educational strategies supported by the ubimus conceptual frameworks.

Figure 37.3  T
 he stage route of the second experience of Harmonic Touch deploying four harmonic
changes. The user’s performance is evaluated based on the coincidence of the clicked changes
with the harmonic changes of the melody.
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  449
Case 2 – Intercontinental Live Patching and Creative Semantic Anchoring
Creative Semantic Anchoring, together with asynchronous interaction and a constant
awareness of imagined or visualized territorialities, characterizes a remote live patching
experience that constitutes the second case study presented in this chapter. This experience
took place between two working groups based in France and Brazil, and involved the use
of the software Kiwi.10
Tools and resources. Kiwi was developed between 2016 and 2018 as part of the research
project ANR MUSICOLL, in partnership with the CICM (Centre de recherche et création
musicale) and the private company Ohm Force. This tool can be described as “a graphical
programming environment dedicated to music and sound creation, such as Max or Pure
Data […], but offering a real-time collaborative approach: Kiwi allows several distant users
to work simultaneously on the same patch hosted online” (Paris et al. 2017). All the users
connected to the server have access to a list of rooms. They may download, delete, upload,
rename or duplicate patches from this window. It also furnishes hosted rooms where col-
laborative patches can be created and placed at the disposal of the other stakeholders. Each
room allows multiple users to modify the patch simultaneously.
Procedures and results. The live-patching experience involved graduate and undergraduate
students from the above-mentioned universities, enrolled in the Curso de Licenciatura em
Música of the Universidade Federal do Acre and in the module Introduction à la programmation
avec Kiwi, Max et Pure Data 1, offered to Licence 2 (second year undergraduate) students of
the music department of the Université Paris 8, with computer-assisted composition spe-
cialization (CAO).
After a session of tests to familiarize the participants with the software, three instances
of Intercontinental Live Patching were carried out during April 2019. The initial technical
difficulties due to server failures were promptly fixed by the technical team involved with
the development of Kiwi. Once these issues were solved, the live patching experiences
produced multiple outcomes in the form of audio recordings and Kiwi patches.11 Beyond
these material results (Messina and Aliel 2019), the experience produced significant insights
triggering critical and analytical reflections on the operational and functional aspects of
Kiwi usage (Messina et al. 2020).
The creative and aesthetic experience of remote live patching highlights the pitfalls of
the algorithmic replicas of human activity as a foundational constraint. During the inter-
continental sessions with Kiwi, a typical situation involved users interacting while being
physically alone at their terminals, only to spot the presence of the other participants via the
evolving changes of objects and cables. Often, the lack of an immediate exchange of words
or gestures created a feeling of awkwardness; most users did not know what the others were
doing. This situation led to a search for strategies to communicate while patching, for ex-
ample, by making comments on the patch.
Implications for ubimus practices: Territoriality. Territoriality was among the hidden oper-
ativities that came to the forefront when adapting our – customarily individual – music-­
programming efforts to a protocol of collective, remote interactions. In line with oral-history
qualitative methodologies (Portelli 2009), we conducted focus groups and unstructured
interviews with the participants throughout the sessions. Recurrently, the issue of terri-
torialities was associated with various social demarcations such as gender, ethnicity, class
or geographical location, highlighting a scenario where collaborative live patching could
eventually reinforce the same hegemonic mechanisms that characterize in-presence societal
interactions.
The power relations inherent to any type of intercontinental exchange are made imme-
diately apparent by the synchronous patching activity. In an attempt to align this reflection
450  Damián Keller et al.
with ubimus investigations, a Kiwi patch may be described as a sandbox or testing space for
ecologically grounded creative practices, where multiple agents attempt to coexist while
struggling for control of limited resources. The intercontinental collaboration happened
within the limits of a single room in Kiwi. To some participants, the visualization of the
patching canvas – a section of screen space shared with the other stakeholders – suggested
the operativity and pertinence of the territorial metaphor.
Volatility. The adopted paradigm of synchronous interactions was abundantly questioned
during the sessions. Kiwi supports both synchronous and asynchronous modalities. While
connected to the same patch, users can interact in real time. But collaborations can also be
sparse. Hosted patches created several months or even years before are available for access
and modification. Kiwi stores these patches but does not enforce a closure. They remain
open to the community, as a persistent, shared resource (Keller 2014).
Semantics. Describable as linguistic fragments that connect meaningful information
through visual threads, Kiwi (or Pd, or Max) objects might also be seen as verbal tokens
subsumable to Creative Semantic Anchoring (ASC). The intercontinental sessions involved
a series of verbal interactions that relied on textual comments on the Kiwi patching canvas.
The written text, in this case, operates as a bridge to the other participants. As observed in
other ubimus practices, verbal communication with distant participants constitutes a key
component of the creative activity (Keller et al. 2019; Miletto et al. 2011).
Presence. This need for immediate verbal contact points to an unsolvable gap between
remote and presence-based interaction. While both ubimus practices and the ongoing pan-
demic make remote interaction necessary and meaningful, reflection on this incompati-
bility is required by the phenomenological characteristics of what we are proposing. For
instance, drawing upon the work of Derrida, Joseph Pugliese et al. (2014) propose a critical
grasp of the metaphysics of presence adjusted to the algorithmic and digital nature of the
computational detection of humans. The idea put forth by Pugliese is that the computa-
tional tracking of human presence is metaphysical because it relies on algorithmic copies
and simulations. That is, it exists beyond the materiality of direct human experience. This
caveat also applies, for instance, to the presence-based musical interactions of traditional
concert settings and to the “social paraphernalia” enacted by these rituals (cf. a critical
analysis in Keller et al. 2010). All objects and bodies involved in these practices, a priori and
without exceptions, have “already been technologised” (Pugliese et al. 2014: 665). They
are somatechnic 12 assemblages of material, biocultural, discursive and artifactual elements.
The relevance of Pugliese’s reflection for ubimus practices becomes apparent when re-
mote interactions are considered. In network-based scenarios, all negotiations rely on algo-
rithmic indicators of presence or action. Each stakeholder’s experience – whether human,
robotic or just a “thing” (as in the Internet of Things) – is limited by the data furnished by
the other stakeholders and by her ability to “make sense” of the available information.13 The
reliability of the infrastructure places a further limitation on the experience. As discussed
by Keller, Messina and Oliveira (2020), the musical experience does not depend just on the
speed of transmission of bits. The results of the live patching study corroborate that mean-
ingful exchanges can occur in spite of the technical hurdles.

Coda
We have covered a range of issues arising from actual deployments of ubimus ecosystems
in educational settings. In this chapter we chose to focus on two applications of ubimus
frameworks that exemplify the diversity of perspectives that coexist within this established
research field. One study showcased the Harmonic Walk Metaphor, materialized by means
of two prototypes that enable either whole-body interaction or web-based collaborative
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  451
activities. The other study dealt with the emerging practice of live patching, engaging two
technologically savvy groups of students across the Atlantic Ocean. We made a point of
featuring low-cost, widely available infrastructure that could be adopted by educational
institutions on tight budgets and by communities located in peripheral and rural contexts.
The results of both studies were very positive but they also raised concerns regarding the
social interaction dynamics, the genre specificity of curricular musical training and the
limitations imposed by some design choices.
Regarding the implications of case 2, the aforementioned engagement with game-­
oriented strategies and the exploration of connections with other ubimus initiatives might
lead to a reformulation of the stakeholders’ roles in live-patching activities. Cutting-edge
ubimus research by Guido Kramann (2020) explores the advantages of structuring gamelike
environments to encourage everyday musical creativity. The recent developments in Kiwi
involving a built-in Faust compiler capable of supporting new computational objects and au-
dio processes (Guillot, Paris and Bonardi 2019) could open new pathways for live-­patching
practices in ubimus. This initiative, aligned with the ongoing developments of Faust-based
techniques, could enhance the available audio-processing tools for ­browser-based ubimus
ecosystems (Lazzarini et al. 2014). Hence, it is reasonable to expect ubimus educational de-
ployments that take advantage of an increasingly refined palette of digital signal processing
techniques (see, for instance, Brandtsegg et al. 2018).
Overall, several adjustments are needed to recalibrate the users’ expectations during live
patching to target casual and untrained participants:

1 The phenomenology of human interaction in a situation of non-presence needs to be

handled explicitly – remote live patching is not a surrogate of colocated interaction and
the stakeholders cannot expect to behave as if they were in place.
2 As a result of the previous caveat, other people’s actions may, at times, appear un-
predictable, bizarre or pointless – possibly due to the absence of immediate verbal or
gestural feedback. This limitation can be partially compensated via ASC strategies –
such as through comments in the patch, by holding parallel chats on social media, or
through integrated support for negotiations as featured in ubimus systems like CODES
(Miletto et al. 2011) or Playsound.Space.
3 The task of dealing with indecipherable actions by other participants might be ad-
dressed by considering the patching environment as “gamelike settings”. In these set-
tings, the rules and aims of the activity may foster “action-oriented comprehensibility”
(Kramann 2020), that is, an understanding of musical creativity that is independent
from exclusive and esoteric codes and that is immediately accessible through action (see
also WYDIWYHE14 – Bessa et al. 2020).

Based on the results of case 1, we believe that the participatory, full-body interactions
supported by the Harmonic Walk Metaphor enable fun and playful activities, encouraging
the participants to explore the sonic qualities afforded by the harmonic relationships. This
musical knowledge is not necessarily restricted to the acoustic-instrumental forms of sonic
organization. These fairly abstract musical properties could also be applied to timbre-based
sound making (cf. recent ubimus research by El-Shimy et al. 2014 and Navarro-Cáceres
et al. 2020). The Harmonic Walk web-based prototype is currently being updated to pro-
vide support for group usage. Through personalized access, music teachers could set their
own database of musical examples. Alternatively, they could prepare selections of online
resources to be later selected by the students (see, for instance, the semantics-based system
Playsound.space – Stolfi et al. 2019). In line with the game-oriented strategies proposed by
Kramann (2020) and also exemplified in Mandanici et al. (2019), a full-body usage of the
452  Damián Keller et al.
Harmonic Touch prototype can be enabled through custom-designed physical tokens (see
also Shapiro et al. 2017).
The results yielded by both studies highlight new targets for second-wave ubimus re-
search that may have multiple educational implications. A design quality such as harmonicity
could be adopted as an organizing principle for various artistic, ludic and informal activities
for educational purposes. Rather than imposing a set of abstract rules extracted from an ide-
alized notion of a “universal musical language”,15 teachers could work from the harmonic
qualities of found materials present at the students’ daily settings. Harmonic relationships
emerge from any sequence of harmonic and quasi-harmonic sounds. They are properties
of resonant materials. Therefore, they do not depend on pitch, equal temperament or the
derived entities of note, interval, scale, chord or tonality. Yes, tonal music is everywhere.
But harmonicity is not a byproduct of tonality, it describes a superset of sounds that includes
many other forms of pitched and unpitched materials. Therefore, harmonic relationships
could be extracted and applied to the sounds of bells, of urban noise (such as traffic – Lacey
2016) and to other sonic textures for which we do not yet have verbal descriptions.
Another design quality identified in this chapter is presence. This quality can be approached
as a problem to be surmounted (as it occurs in the proposals that target cyber-security,
privacy and the ethical hurdles emerging from the massive deployment of computational
resources in settings such as homes or schools).16 But it can also be seen as an opportunity to
empower the stakeholders with ethical and aesthetic choices. Distributed decision-making –
particularly when it involves a mix of living and nonliving agents – entails an increased
amount of responsibility and a heightened awareness.17 Musical and artistic activities have
an enormous potential to reinforce trust and social bondings. Historically, this potential has
been abducted for the sectarian agenda of religious and military groups. If the separation
between the Church and the State is to be taken seriously, public funds cannot be employed
for religious proselytism or authoritarian propaganda, much less if this is done in public
schools. The issue of presence entails the ability to enforce the individual control of access
to information and the right to exert our cultural diversity.

Acknowledgments
The first author received support from the Brazilian National Council for Scientific and
Technological Development (CNPq) through a Research Productivity Grant.

Questions for Consideration

1 In what ways does the concept “ubimus” further the discourse in music education re-
search and practice?
2 What questions might we ask about the practice of live patching in music education?
3 In what ways can we further explore the role of ecological cognition in music educa-
tion research and practice?
4 In what ways can Harmonic Walk be further utilized in research practices in and out-
side of music and music education?

Notes
1 We employ the label genre to denote a restrictive view not only of the musical materials and activi-
ties but also of the resources employed to support music-making. The enforcement of genre-centric
design perspectives is one of the characteristics of current music-information retrieval and “new
instruments for musical expression” approaches.
 Ubimus Strategies for Colocated and Remote Educational Activities  453
2 In light of the recent questions formulated by the US Congress to the four largest usonian IT com-
panies, this is not a minor issue. There is slowly mounting evidence that these firms use the personal
data of millions of subscribers to push their commercial, political and ideological agenda.
3 ASC is the abbreviated version of the original label in Portuguese: Ancoragem Semântica Criativa.
4 Despite the preliminary evidence on this trend, the implications of the lack of face-to-face interaction
have hardly been documented. A whole area of ubimus research targeting the dynamics of social in-
teractions and their relationships to the ubimus ecosystems is currently ripe for development. See the
discussion on presence below.
5 Graphic-procedural tagging, aside from being a metaphor for creative action, can also be classified as
a form of sonification. This is one of the intersections between ubimus and auditory display that are
being explored in the special issue dedicated to the overlap between the two areas, published by the
Computer Music Journal.
6 Ecological, enactive, embedded, embodied cognition.
7 Depending on the country and the type of educational system, institutional music training may take
place in conservatories, colleges, technical institutes or universities. Given the scope of this chapter
we cannot get into fine distinctions. But we acknowledge that there are differences related to the
profiles and targets of the various institutions.
8 Interestingly, this idea of a web of tones predates the existence of the World Wide Web or the internet
of things. A link between the ubimus proposals of an Internet of Musical Things and its derivatives
could be established through the deployment and access to material resources that enable musical
activities.
9 Device repurposing – especially when involving commercial closed platforms such as Wii or K ­ inect –
needs to be approached with caution. Ubimus projects have employed a variety of strategies for hard-
ware repurposing but a key goal has always been wide accessibility and the adoption of standards.
10 The sessions involved four academic poles, namely, Université Paris 8 and Université Paris Nord in
France, and Universidade Federal do Acre and Universidade Federal da Paraíba in Brazil. Alongside
MUSICOLL and CICM, the live patching experience involved the Amazon Center for Music Re-
search (NAP) and the research project Live/Acc/Patch, funded by the Brazilian National Council for
Scientific and Technological Development (CNPq) and the Federal University of Acre (UFAC), as
part of the Brazilian Institutional Programme for Undergraduate Research (PIBIC).
11 These materials are available at https://mega.nz/#F!b8ZniKAK!QqoFc8bjKu9UtkcibsX_-Q.
12 Pugliese and Stryker (2009) call somatechnics the intersection between the body as a physical, natural
object and the very same body as a discursive, biocultural, socially determined artifact.
13 Here we should stress that second-wave ubimus conceptual frameworks tend to avoid the tacit pre-
conceptions of the acoustic-instrumental paradigm that enforces a social hierarchy among the musical
stakeholders by imposing metaphors such as “the orchestra”. In ubimus ecologies, robots, internet
things, lay participants and highly skilled musicians share equal rights to be creative and be recog-
nized as such.
14 What you do is what you hear: a ubimus design principle applicable to various contexts.
15 Believe or not, two decades into the 21st century we still encounter this nonsense in many textbooks
and most appallingly even in scientific writings!
16 This is a huge concern, particularly with the current trend of governments adopting commercial
platforms for public- and state-funded institutions. Think for a moment what could happen if one or
a few companies controlled the access to the digital resources of every school on the planet? Not even
Orwell could have imagined this menace, but this is not science fiction anymore.
17 A case in point are the children being murdered by drone attacks. https://www.thebureauinvesti-
gates.com/projects/drone-war

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38 Embodied Music Pedagogy and
Musical Creativities in Action
Dylan van der Schyff

The idea of “embodiment” has become a central theme in music education research. The
growing interest in the corporeal basis of musical experience and development has resulted
in better understandings of how musical learning stems from engagements with instru-
ments and other people; and it has drawn attention to a range of bodily dynamics associated
with the emergence of musical skills such as instrumental control, coordinated action, and
communication (Davidson, 2012; Davidson & Correia, 2001; Juntunen & Hyvönen, 2004;
Powell & Lajevic, 2011). Embodied music pedagogies are also articulating the important
role music education can have for personal and social development, and human well-being
more generally. These perspectives come from thinkers who develop affinities between a
range of critical and philosophical approaches, current work in cognitive science, and in-
sights from teaching practice, to provide models that highlight the relational, creative, and
world-making potentials of music education (see Elliott & Silverman, 2015). Many of these
approaches assert richer ontologies for what it means to be and become a musical being—
ontologies that embrace the adaptive, autonomous, relational, and self-making nature of
living systems as a bio-ethical first principle (Bowman, 2004; Silverman, 2012, 2020; van
der Schyff, Schiavo, & Elliott, 2016).
This chapter introduces ideas drawn from the field of embodied cognitive science that have
helped to stimulate and guide these new pedagogical perspectives. More specifically, I out-
line how key ideas associated with the “enactive” approach to mind (Varela, ­Thompson, &
Rosch, 1991; Thompson, 2007) provide bio-cognitive insights that support pluralistic con-
ceptions of what musical creativity entails (Burnard, 2012, 2013; Merker, 2006). As I dis-
cuss, the enactive stance sees living cognition as inherently embodied and creative—as an
adaptive and relational process whereby worlds of meaning are brought forth through the
manifold ways agents interact with the material and social environments they inhabit. Ac-
cordingly, I consider how an enactive perspective decenters the traditional emphasis on the
reception and evaluation of products produced by creative individuals; and how it places
more focus on understanding the ways musical creativities unfold in action through pro-
cesses of exploration, cooperation, adaptivity, and the development of “bodily knowledge.”
In line with this, I suggest a 4E (embodied, embedded, extended, enacted) framework for
thought, research, and practice that may aid in comparing and integrating musical creativi-
ties as they play out in active, collaborative contexts. To conclude, I discuss the implications
of a pluralist/4E approach to creativity for issues central to contemporary music pedagogy.

The Enactive Stance

The interdisciplinary research orientation referred to as “enactivism” started to form in the
1980s with the pioneering work of the Chilean thinkers Humberto Maturana and Fran-
cisco Varela (Maturana & Varela, 1980, 1984; Varela, 1979). Maturana and Varela drew on
a range of philosophical and scientific perspectives to explore the essential question, “what

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-44
458  Dylan van der Schyff
is life?” Centrally, their writings highlight the way that living systems bring themselves
into existence and maintain themselves through various forms of adaptive behavior—­l iving
systems are not only self-organizing, but also self-creating. The prototypical example of
such a system is the living autopoietic (self-making) cell. As Maturana and Varela (1980,
1984) discuss, even simple single-celled organisms actively develop and maintain relation-
ships with their environments that keep their metabolic within ranges that are conducive
to survival. Developing these relationships involves the self-generation of adaptive patterns
of action and perception that unfold in terms of a history of coupling with the environ-
ment (Varela, 1988). This process results in the bringing forth or “enactment” of a world
of salience (a niche). Therefore, in being autopoietic, living systems are also autonomous: an
organism does not merely respond to a pre-given environment; how it makes sense of the
world is driven by its own history of action-as-perception within a contingent environment
(Varela, 1979, 1988).
Put simply, a living being is not a thing—it is, rather, complex system of adaptive pro-
cesses engaged in realizing and maintaining a life-world. These processes involve a man-
ifold of action and (cross-modal) perception, and the emergence of mutually influencing
relationships that, depending on the complexity and context of the animal, evolve into ever
richer forms of interaction with the material and “social” environment. Accordingly, from
this perspective, concepts such “cognition” and “mind” are cast in a situated, synergistic,
and embodied light. Importantly, this view offers a biological grounding for pluralistic and
relational conceptions of creativity: it highlights how the processes of life necessarily entail
the ongoing enactment of meaningful relationships; and how these relationships form and
play out in various ways depending on the agent’s history of adaptive corporeal engagement
with the environment (Schiavio & Benedek, 2020; van der Schyff et al., 2018).
Maturana and Varela’s work paved the way for the seminal enactivist text, The Embod-
ied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience, by Varela, Evan Thompson, and Eleanor
Rosch (1991). The Embodied Mind draws on knowledge from ecological psychology, cogni-
tive linguistics, robotics, theoretical biology, dynamical systems theory, eastern philosophy,
and phenomenology to develop an embodied approach to cognition and “mind” that is
based in the self-producing nature of living systems. Here, the authors trace a deep conti-
nuity between biological processes and mental processes, between mind and life. In doing
so, they launch a sustained critique of the dominant information-processing (or mind-as-
computer model) of cognition.
Very generally, the information-processing approach conceives of cognition as confined
to the brain and involves the assumption that all mental processes are essentially computa-
tional and representational in nature: experience is not direct, it is not of the world itself,
but of the representations of the world computed by the brain. While this approach has pro-
duced some important insights, its relevance for actual living minds has been questioned by
number of prominent thinkers. Notably, the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio (1994) sums
up the main issue in terms of a problematic duality where

mind and brain are related but only in the sense that the mind is the software run in a
piece of computer hardware called the brain; or that the brain and body are related but
only in the sense that the former cannot survive without the life support of the latter.
(pp. 247–248)

The enactive stance contrasts with the information-processing perspective in that it does
not assume that cognition should be limited to abstract processes of computation and rep-
resentation in the brain. As noted previously, the enactivist approach begins by exploring
cognition in the ways even the simplest organisms move purposefully and interact with
 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action  459
their environments. Indeed, while an organism may not be in possession of a brain, or even
a nervous system in some cases, it can nevertheless engage in forms of action and perception
that allow it to develop survival relevant relationships within a contingent environment
(Thompson, 2007). Because of this, enactive theorists argue that cognition cannot be based
in abstract representations of “a world out there” (as basic life forms are not in possession
of the required neural hardware to perform such “mental gymnastics”). Instead, cognition
begins with movement, with the forms of adaptive, perceptually guided action associated
with how an animal develops and maintains its history of relational coupling with the world
(Di Paolo, Buhrmann, & Barandiaran, 2017). The term “sense-making” is used to refer to
these kinds of organism-environment interactions (Thompson, 2007). Here it is also im-
portant to highlight the fact that cognition as sense-making often involves interactions be-
tween organisms (Torrance & Froese, 2011). Living systems necessarily form environments
for each other, and thus each animal’s “point of view” is guided in its development by the
forms of otherness it encounters. This means that sense-making is also a “participatory”
phenomenon, involving synergistic dynamics that play out between agents over a range of
(developmental and in-the-moment) time scales and across various contexts (De Jaegher &
Di Paolo, 2007; De Jaegher, Di Paolo, & Gallagher, 2010).
Again, this strongly implies that fundamental forms of cognitive activity are not best un-
derstood strictly in terms of pre-given environments that an organism responds to or repre-
sents internally. Rather, living participatory sense-making involves the creation of complex
“cognitive ecologies” that include other organisms, as well as nonorganic environmental
features. Additionally, because the life-worlds that are brought forth through such inter-
actions are not pre-determined but unfold through processes of adaptation, sense-making
may be seen as a creative and improvisational process, whereby a world of salience and
meaning is continually enacted (see Torrance & Schumann, 2019). Accordingly, Varela,
Thompson, and Rosch (1991, p. 205) write that cognition is “like a path that is laid down in
walking.” This phrase describes how cognition always involves a “next step,” in which “the
actions of the system are always directed toward situations that have yet to become actual,”
and how “cognition as embodied action both poses the problems and specifies those paths
that must be tread or laid down for their solution.” In line with the pluralistic conception
of cognition and mind introduced above, the ways that these processes play out may be
understood to involve the development of a repertoire of “adaptivities” that function and
evolve in different contexts, and that allow for world of meaning to be continually brought
forth anew.

A 4E Perspective
The enactivist stance highlights the fundamentally adaptive, creative, or “world-making”
nature of embodied minds. But while the body is indeed seen as the primary cognitive
domain by which we make sense of the world, the process of sense-making is not under-
stood to be limited to the brains and bodies of individual agents. For social animals, such
as ourselves, participatory sense-making involves the development of shared repertoires of
coordinated action that coincide with the enactment of complex emotional, empathic, and
co-operative/creative modes of communication between agents (e.g., musical entrainment,
caregiver-infant interactions, emotionally laden gestures and utterances). When one speaks
of an “embodied mind,” then, one must also include the interactions between multiple
brains, bodies, spaces, and things, as well as the modes of co-operative conduct, practice,
discourse, and negotiation, through which social life is enacted (Froese & Di Paolo, 2011).
It follows that an embodied conception of cognition cannot exclude the fact that living sys-
tems are necessarily situated or “embedded” within specific environments. And for human
460  Dylan van der Schyff
life, this embeddedness includes the material, technological, and cultural factors that char-
acterize the cognitive ecologies in which we participate (Malafouris, 2013).
Recognizing the embedded aspects of cognition leads to the more radical claim that, in
addition to being enactive, embodied, and embedded, the mind is also an ecologically “ex-
tended” phenomenon (Menary, 2010). Here one can think of how we use notebooks, maps,
or smartphones as extensions of our cognitive capacities that aid with memory or direc-
tions. Or how, when a visually impaired person uses a cane to navigate an environment, the
cane becomes an extension of their perception as it extends beyond their hand to the tip of
the cane (Merleau-Ponty, 1945). Similarly, pianists may extend their corporeal and sensory
capacities with and through a rather complex piece of technology. And, with practice, they
may achieve a remarkable transparency between their expressive goals, motor actions, and
the instrument. Here, the instrument is no longer experienced simply as an object. Rather,
the (musical) world is enacted and experienced through it as an extension of the body.
The extended aspect of cognition also plays out in social contexts. For example, musical
ensembles develop shared repertoires of action and perception that allow them to enact the
various forms of emotional and corporeal coordination required to sustain the music they
co-create. This process involves adaptive self-organizing dynamics that are continuous with
those that enable more fundamental forms of participatory sense-making (Schiavio & van
der Schyff, 2018). These dynamics are synergistic, involving tightly coupled multi-modal
feedback and feedforward loops that play out across and between bodies in action. Through
the negotiation of such complex dynamics, musicians collectively “scaffold” the musical
environment by taking on and offloading various tasks to and from each other. These pro-
cesses may involve, for example, entraining with a beat provided by a drummer, adapting to
another person’s phrasing, leading or following harmonic and dynamic shifts, and more (see
also Bishop, 2018; Keller, 2001). Through such extended goal-directed activity, the ensem-
ble enacts and maintains musical structures within the culturally embedded constraints of
style and genre that characterize the musical world they co-create. In brief, musical partic-
ipatory sense-making may be described as an unfolding ecological process in which agents
come to know and understand each other through histories of embodied interaction that
play out within the shared environments they co-enact (van der Schyff & Krueger, 2019).
To describe the complex interactions between living systems and their social and material
environments, theorists have recently proposed a model that examines cognition in terms
of the four overlapping dimensions I have just begun to sketch out (Glăveanu, 2014; Newen,
de Bruin, & Gallagher, 2018). Put simply, this “4E” approach suggests that cognition may
be understood as embodied (as it involves a deep relationship between action and percep-
tion), embedded (within a contingent social, cultural, and material milieu), extended (by
and with objects, technologies, and other people), and enactive (as it involves “bringing
forth” a meaningful world). As I discuss next, these dimensions provide useful tools for
thinking about how musical creativities unfold in action.

Musical Creativities in (Inter)action

Traditionally, researchers have tended to explore creativity in terms of the reception of
products, ideas, or outcomes, and as a cognitive process that is limited to the individ-
ual domain of the creative agent (see Sawyer, 2012). And although these approaches have
provided important insights, they often have little to say about the types of interactive,
socially engaged, and “distributed” forms of creativity associated with musical practice (see
Burnard, 2012; Burnard & Dragovic, 2014; Gl ăveanu, 2014; Merker, 2006; Sawyer & De-
Zutter, 2009). The range of activities and experiences we associate with the word “music”
involves many different manifestations creativity—where various adaptive processes are
 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action  461
put into play in different contexts and over various time scales (Burnard, 2012; Burnard &
Haddon, 2015; van der Schyff et al., 2018). Accordingly, the experience and use of modal,
temporal, spatial dimensions—as well as values and traditional skills—can be quite different
across types of musical creativity (Merker, 2006). Musical performance, improvisation, and
composition involve different social dynamics, the use of different technologies, and the
development of different affordances and “authorial” strategies (Burnard, 2012). This said,
however, contemporary musical practice is often highly collaborative: creativities over-
lap, interact, and inform each other; and this plays out over various time scales, involving
various kinds of adaptive behavior and a range of complex corporeal, developmental, and
interpersonal dynamics as agents negotiate new relationships and possibilities for thought
and action.
An enactive stance has interesting implications here as it can help us to value different
manifestations of musical creativity, while also revealing their common origins in the forms
of embodied sense-making associated with the development of living systems more gener-
ally (van der Schyff, Schiavo, & Elliott, 2022). For example, an important characteristic of
living systems is that they must constantly work to maintain a balance between constraint
and freedom, between stability and entropy. This dynamic reflects an animal’s ability to
develop consistent patterns of action and relationships with an environment, but also to
how it can (and must) adapt to perturbations in the environment and self-organize new
relationships and patterns of action as it moves through life. These kinds of dynamics have
been studied empirically. For example, psychologists (Stephen & Dixon, 2009; Stephen
et  al., 2009) used motion and eye tracking to observe participants engaged in problem
solving and learning new forms of bodily coordination. They noticed distinct spikes in
system entropy (instability in movement and low coordination) in just before the “Ah-ha!”
moment associated with the realization of a new insight, or the onset of the ability to suc-
cessfully perform a novel action. The researchers also noted that a rapid decrease in entropy
follows once the new state is achieved, indicating the “self-organization of a new cognitive
structure” (Dixon et al., 2010).
Other researchers have examined these kinds of processes in the context of human de-
velopment (e.g., see Smith & Thelen, 2003). Here one may think of how, as a child moves
from crawling to walking, it trades one set of stable bodily configurations for another. This
process involves periods of instability and discomfort (falling, crying, frustration) as the
child makes this shift. However, once the shift is made the child’s walking is characterized
by both stability and flexibility: walking becomes a stable part of the child’s motor reper-
toire that can be adapted in various ways to realize various goals, to respond to environ-
mental conditions, and so on (Thelen & Smith, 1994). Similarly, the play of entropy and
stability can be discerned in the context of instrumental learning (van der Schyff, Schiavio, &
Elliott, 2022). Developing new ways of engaging bodily with an instrument can result
in physically uncomfortable and frustrating periods indicative of unstable and dissociated
relationships within the body and between the body and the instrument (see Sudnow,
1978). However, these experiences are necessary to create new relationships between bod-
ily, neural, and environmental dimensions. These processes continue as musicians practice,
learn, and explore creative possibilities; they allow the musicians to develop a wider range
of musical actions and understandings, to be more flexible and adaptive, and to perceive
new “affordances” in the musical instruments one is using.
The term “affordances” refers to the possibilities for action that an agent enacts through
its history of engagement with features of the environment (Gibson, 1966, 1979; Chemero,
2003). Learning, growth, and experience lead to phase transitions that open new ways of
moving, acting, and thinking (Gibson, 1988). For example, as children explore their en-
vironments, they discover objects and develop ways of using them. And sometimes these
462  Dylan van der Schyff
discoveries involve the sound-making affordances of an object or a collection of objects.
As children explore these objects further, they begin to develop patterns of engagement
that produce desired sounds—their exploratory actions lead to the creation of repertoires
of goal-directed action and perception, and the self-organization of early musical environ-
ments (Imberty, 1995; Schiavio et al., 2017). Eric Clarke (2005) provides a useful example
of these processes,

On first encountering a xylophone, the child’s more-or-less unregulated experiments

with hands or sticks will result in all kinds of accidental sounds. With unsupervised
investigation, the child may discover that different kinds of actions [. . .] give rise to
differentiated results [. . .] and even that these distinctions can themselves be used to
achieve other goals.
(p. 23)

These processes continue as people begin to learn musical instruments and, through prac-
tice and experimentation, discover new ways of manipulating them. The affordances
that arise are available to the musician as creative options that can be juxtaposed in var-
ious ­configurations—e.g., articulation, tone quality, rhythm, dynamics, and “extended
techniques”.
The idea of affordances highlights the close relationship between physical development
(growth and practice), adaptivity (the ability to form new relationships and repertoires of
action), conceptual development (the ability to combine different actions, tools, and ideas in
new ways), and the various ways these aspects intersect in creative practice. It is also impor-
tant to note that musical affordances may extend beyond the musician-instrument coupling
into the social musical environment (Krueger, 2014; Reybrouck, 2012) as musicians co-­
enact the kinds of relational dynamics required for effective forms of musical performance.
And here too, we may discern periods of instability and stability as an ensemble negotiates
processes of learning and development (van der Schyff & Schiavio, 2022). These periods
involve shared explorations, experimentation, and the various challenges, frustrations, and
rewards that result. Once again, these processes are required for the ensemble to develop
the collaborative forms of thought and action that allow them to perform coherently and
to develop satisfying (and novel) musical outcomes within the constraints of the embedded
cultural forms they work within (Linson & Clarke, 2017).
The kinds of perceptual and action-based understandings associated with performance
in music, sport, and other domains are often referred to as “skilled coping” (Dreyfus, 2013;
Høffding, 2014). This term is used to describe the interplay of bodily know-how and thought-
in-action in environments that require constant adaptivity and in-the-­moment problem
solving (Geeves et al., 2014; Høffding, 2019; Kimmel et al., 2018; Sutton et al., 2011). Such
forms of bodily knowledge allow agents to experience creative “flow,” which refers to a deep
synergistic engagement with the environment in which equipment and other agents become
integrated with the actions and perceptions of the performer (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996). De-
veloping high levels of skilled coping and flow also allows musical (and other) performers to
place their bodies and action repertories in new contexts and configurations that are resolved
in the moment—to reconfigure affordances and take “risks” by introducing new elements
(sounds, rhythms, dynamic shifts) into the extended musical system, and thereby contribute
to the creative development of the performance in which they participate.
In considering this last point, the continuity between musical creativity in performance
and the adaptive dynamics associated with sustaining more basic organism-environment re-
lationships becomes clearer (i.e., maintaining the survival-relevant linkages between body
and world). Indeed, although collective music making is not a “life or death” situation
 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action  463
in the literal sense, it nevertheless involves maintaining appropriate balances between the
corporeal, instrumental, emotional, social, and sonic factors required to keep the musical
event “alive” and flourishing. And as with other living systems, musical systems must strike
appropriate balances between stability and freedom: too much stability and constraint and
the organism cannot grow and evolve; too much entropy and the system loses coherence
and decays (van der Schyff et al., 2018; Walton et al., 2015, 2017). Likewise, as musicians
strive to maintain stability in their interactions, they also sometimes willfully introduce in-
stability into the system. And this can happen in various ways depending on the context and
the musicians involved. Jazz musicians often introduce unexpected rhythmic or harmonic
structures that require real-time adaptivity. The members of a string quartet may “chal-
lenge” each other with shifts in tempo and phrasing. And free improvisers become highly
adept at pushing musical balances to extremes, to the edge of chaos and back (Borgo, 2005).
In all, then, the “play” of musical creativity in action involves making moment-to-­
moment adaptations to perturbations in the musical environment to maintain conditions
within certain constraints (e.g., established tempos and phrasing patters, culturally embed-
ded norms associated with genre and style) such that the performance doesn’t fall apart.
But, in turn, it also entails initiating shifts in the musical dynamics, and pushing against
constraints, which introduces moments of instability to which the ensemble must adapt
(Schiavio & Benedek, 2020). Additionally, these forms of adaptivity and boundary pushing
can affect the embedded cultural environment, resulting in new conceptions of practice and
style within a given genre. The factors that support musicians and ensembles in develop-
ing the kinds of bodily knowledge (skilled coping) and the extended social, material, and
conceptual affordances necessary for musical creativity in performance include various ex-
ploratory engagements with objects and social configurations that affect muscular, neural,
emotional, perceptual, and conceptual development.
Interestingly, these corporeal and ecologically situated factors also guide the realiza-
tion of musical creativities in areas like composition, which also depend on a range of
developmental trajectories associated with situated embodied sense-making (Cook, 2014;
Kozak, 2019; Nagy, 2017; Pohjannoro, 2020). As composers explore the affordances of en-
sembles, technologies, and acoustic spaces, they discover novel ways of moving within or
pushing against established stylistic constraints (van der Schyff et al, 2018). And here too,
uncomfortable areas of instability must be negotiated for new relationships and possibili-
ties to emerge. Contrary to the myth of the “lone creative genius” (Montuori & Purser,
1995), composers do not create in isolation, and their works do not simply appear as flashes
of inspiration resulting in “fixed” outputs (Burnard, 2012; Schiavio & Benedek, 2020).
Composers interact with technologies, other composers and performers, and the broader
cultural milieu (Cook, 2014). In brief, composers are guided by their history of corporeal
engagement with and within social, material, and sonic environments; and the process of
composition involves a range of exploratory, experimental, technologically mediated, and
socio-culturally negotiated behaviors whereby new musical devices, forms, and concepts
may emerge (new affordances for thought and action). It follows, then, that what falls under
the term “composition” can itself entail a myriad of creativities, each of which may take on
prominent roles at different stages of a composer’s progression (for example, improvisation
can be a part of a composer’s process and part of the performances of the work he/she/
they produce). Likewise, it is also important to recognize that within domains of musical
practice like performance and improvisation, various creativities (e.g., compositional, tech-
nological, stylistic) may come into play for a single musician; and that a given performance
may be realized by through multiple creativities that are special to each participating mu-
sician. Think, for example, of the different creativities that may combine interpersonally
in the collaboration between an improvising violinist and a live-coding artist, or in the
464  Dylan van der Schyff
relationship between a popular music group and the producer who edits and crafts the
sound of their recordings.
And so, while it is important to understand and value the characteristics between differ-
ent musical creativities, it is equally important to understand how creativities can support
each other in collaborative environments. Doing this requires an understanding of the fac-
tors associated with the emergence of adaptive behavior (e.g., the play of entropy and stabil-
ity, freedom and constraint), the development of affordances, and the dynamics of creative
collaboration more generally. Indeed, the examples introduced above all highlight the deep
integration of corporeal, social, and material factors in the realization of creative musical
environments—aspects that are not well captured by reductive conceptions of creativity
associated with lone agents and fixed artifacts. By contrast, a 4E framework offers non-­
reductive possibilities for exploring, comparing, and integrating musical creativites (see van
der Schyff et al., 2018) across the following mutually influencing dimensions:

• The embodied dynamics of creative musical action: the motor, affective, and devel-
opmental aspects associated with how musicians produce, experience, and conceive of
musical sound in performance, composition, production, and so on; the bodily enact-
ment of musical affordances and skill through exploration and practice.
• The embedded dynamics of the shared creative niche: how musicians adaptively situate
themselves in relation to the physical, social, and cultural environment they are part
of; how they adapt to and push against constraints through creative musical practice
(performance, composition, education).
• The extended dynamics of musical thought and action: how musicians use instruments and
other technologies as parts of their cognitive domain; how they adaptively offload and take
on various tasks related to maintaining and manipulating the balance between stability and
entropy within an ensemble; and how environmental factors (including other musicians,
teachers, audience members, sound engineers, and so on) contribute to the realization of
new musical forms and relationships in composition, improvisation, and production.
• The enactive dynamics of musical development: how unique musical identities, percep-
tions, and environments emerge and transform through the self-organizing activity of
musical agents; and how these processes shape relational and creative constraints in an
ongoing way resulting in new musical worlds.

In brief, this approach could be used to explore the processes and interactions of creative
agents by examining how creativities unfold—and how they differ and converge—across
each “E.” This could include, for example, phenomenological accounts of the bodily, social,
and conceptual transitions associated with each dimension as new possibilities for thought
and action emerge. Additionally, because the enactive stance sees a living system as a fun-
damentally creative process, it brings with it an ethical dimension in which thought and
action in music education aim to preserve and nurture the positive world-making potentials
of musical sense-making for human life (Randles, 2020; Smith & Silverman, 2020). In
connection with this, a 4E framework may also aid in understanding what musical envi-
ronments and actions afford the right kinds of interactive dynamics that foster creativity,
personal growth, and social well-being.

Implications for Pedagogy

The “life-based” orientation associated with the enactive stance provides a much-needed
corrective to assumptions that have tended to guide education over the past century. For
example, prominent thinkers have examined how modern educational institutions have
 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action  465
been shaped by an “industrial” worldview, where students are trained to memorize and re-
produce existing knowledge so that they may meet standardized testing criteria—a kind of
pedagogical production line (Elliott & Silverman, 2015; van der Schyff, Schiavio, & E­ lliott,
2016). In musical contexts, this approach often assumes a hierarchy where the domain
of “creativity” is reserved for composers (Sawyer, 2007). Accordingly, musical learners
are trained to develop the technical skills to correctly reproduce the information encoded
into a score, and/or to perform appropriately within the pre-existing conventions of a
given musical genre as standardized by the accepted pedagogical tools (e.g., big band jazz
charts, chord-scale theory and tonal harmony books, and other codified methods). While
the acquisition of technical skills and conventional understandings is an important fac-
tor in musical development, the types of knowledge afforded by music go well beyond
­information-based forms of learning. Indeed, it is argued that models centered on the trans-
fer of pre-existing facts and techniques from teacher to student constrain the potentials of
learners (Regelski, 2002). Keith Sawyer (2007) writes that these approaches do not pro-
vide students with the opportunity to develop the “deeper conceptual understandings and
adaptive expertise that allow them to generate new knowledge” (Sawyer, 2007). Likewise,
Wayne Bowman (2004) argues that these limited conceptions of what musical learning can
entail reduce music education to:

A psychologistic affair, purged of things like muscle, blood, bone, struggle, power,
politics—in fact, most of the things that make it momentous. [...] This leaves the body
in an awkward place, if any place at all, and neglects music’s status as cultural action.
Foremost among the reasons music truly matters educationally is its participatory, enac-
tive, embodied character—and its consequent capacity to highlight the co-origination
of body, mind, and culture.
(p. 46)

Musical environments can offer unparalleled possibilities for learners to explore contextual
and embodied forms of knowing that reflect and inform how they navigate the contingen-
cies of social, cultural, and material worlds in which they participate. Research has shown
the benefits of co-operative creative musical practice for children, which appears to foster
heightened levels of empathy in other contexts (Rabinowitch & Knafo-Noam, 2015; Ra-
binowitch, Cross, & Burnard, 2012). Additionally, studies of community music projects
involving participants from diverse cultural backgrounds (e.g., settler and indigenous resi-
dents, recent immigrants, and refugees) have documented how collaborative music and arts
activities that highlight embodied forms of communication (improvision, dance) and the
development and realization of shared goals can help to foster understanding, trust, and
friendship even in situations where communication through spoken language is difficult or
impossible (e.g., see Schiavio et al., 2019). In line with such potentials, educators are devel-
oping new models for musical development that explore collaboration, improvisation, and
other relational forms of creativity that reflect the actual lives and interests of students and
teachers (Burnard, 2012; Green, 2008). For many, this move embraces music as a praxis—a
shared, creative activity in which technical knowledge is seen as serving a greater set of
social and ethical factors; one where learners are encouraged to actively explore their po-
tentials as active self and word-makers through the co-enactment of musical environments
(Elliott & Silverman, 2015; Regelski, 1998, 2002).
Such possibilities also bring to light the critical and ethical implications of enactive ap-
proaches to music education in face of engrained personal and cultural assumptions. As I
discussed previously, a key aspect of the development of living systems involves their adap-
tivity: their proclivity to engage with extended cognitive ecologies, to navigate body-world
466  Dylan van der Schyff
phase transitions, and to co-enact new worlds of understanding and meaning. Recognizing
and nurturing these fundamental sense-making capacities in education contexts means that
students and teachers must be aware of and critically reflect upon the power dynamics,
institutional structures, and habits of thought that risk limiting their possibilities and the
potentials of others. To do this, educators need to provide safe environments where students
may explore, adapt to new contexts, take risks, and, in doing so, engage with their poten-
tials as self-creating (musical) beings. Revealing these potentials also requires extending the
cognitive reach of students and teachers beyond the conceptual (and physical) boundaries
imposed by institutional environments so that they may engage with the diversity of the
broader community in which they participate (Campell, 2009; O’Neill, 2009; Schaivio
et al., 2019).
Extending forms of music education and research into collaborations with indigenous
and other marginalized communities may decenter, and perhaps play a role in eventually ef-
facing the Eurocentric, patriarchal, gender-binary, and white supremacist assumptions that
limit human flourishing. Such possibilities are already being explored by a range of critical
thinkers and practitioners (Bradley, 2012; Herbst, Nzewi, & Agawu, 2003; Hess, 2018;
Kallio, 2020; Korsyn, 2003) who are revealing, for example, the systematic exploitation of
indigenous music musicking, in which aspects of living musical traditions are stripped of
their contexts to add an exotic air to compositions and performances produced by people
who do not fully appreciate the meaning of the practices they appropriate (see Robinson,
2020). Accordingly, new forms of critical and culturally aware practice and theory can help
to break through the “cognitive confinement” of the colonized mind (Batacharya & Wong,
2018, Werner, 2020) by placing artists, teachers, and students in collaborative positions in
which engrained ways of thinking and doing are challenged, where new extended may
relationships emerge, and where more flexible, adaptive, and inclusive environments are
enacted.
In short, the activities involved with such forms of critically engaged music and arts
praxis are an essential part of what it means to be and become a creative musical person in
contemporary society. These activities include exploration, adaptivity, improvisation, and
collaboration; and they involve encounters with different conceptions of creativity (Camp-
bell & Teicher, 1997). Accordingly, enactive and creatively pluralistic environments may
foster new ways of musicking in relation to and with others, the negotiation contingent mu-
tual understandings, and the co-creation of new knowledge, forms of practice, and hybrid
cultural experiences and expressions (Bhabha, 2004). These types of sense-making involve
developing new body-based and environmentally situated knowledge (new bodily skills,
perceptions, and affordances), advancing social understanding (empathy, cultural awareness,
shared affordances), and the ability to rely upon and contribute to the creative actions of
others (trust, shared experience and understanding). Again, realizing such possibilities can
involve navigating challenging periods of bodily and interpersonal instability as new ways
of acting and thinking develop. However, acquiring the skill, experience, and confidence
to negotiate such dynamics is essential for participating in the kinds of conceptual, stylis-
tic, and cultural boundary crossing that characterizes contemporary creative praxis and
the diverse communities in which it plays out. Therefore, it is important that we provide
students with the environments where they may develop their fundamental proclivities to
explore, create, and cooperate in multiple ways (deBruin, Burnard, & Davies, 2018; Szabo
et al., 2021). And this includes engaging in the kinds of self-organizing processes associated
with the creation of original music—music that reflects shared experiences of being and
becoming (Elliott & Silverman, 2015).
The complex set of factors at play here goes well beyond hierarchical, input-output,
information-processing, or reproduction-based approaches to cognition and musical
­
 Embodied Music Pedagogy and Musical Creativities in Action  467
learning. Rather, they highlight the deep continuity between musicality and the synergetic
dynamics of living systems as they play out across bodily, social, and material domains.
Accordingly, a 4E framework may serve as a useful starting point as educators and students
research the kinds of dynamics that characterize co-enactment of creative musical environ-
ments. For example, they might explore creative development by asking:

1 What new instrumental challenges have emerged through practice? What new
body-instrument relationships and understandings have developed in the process of
meeting them? How do people experience (bodily-emotionally) the play of instabil-
ity and stability in learning new skills, interacting, and pushing creative boundaries?
How do different musical creativities draw on bodily action and corporeal experience?
(Embodied)
2 What roles does the socio-cultural environment play in shaping the ways we think and
act creatively? How do musical activities lead to new understandings of the broader
physical, sonic, historical, social, cultural, and gendered world(s) we live through as
individuals and social groups? (Embedded)
3 In what ways are creative possibilities enhanced or made possible through interactions
with co-performers, technologies, and other nonorganic ecological factors? How do
different creativities support and inform each other across an extended musical net-
work? (Extended)
4 What new meanings arise through music making? What new relationships and under-
standings emerge? How do these relationships and understandings transform the ways
musicians engage with the world musically, sonically, socially, emotionally, and so on?
And how might this result in new or hybrid creativities? (Enacted) (see van der Schyff,
2019)

Additionally, these dimensions could serve as a critical framework for examining factors
that negatively impact creative engagement across bodily (e.g., injury or poor health, emo-
tional distress), embedded, and extended domains (e.g., poorly functioning equipment;
environments that are physically unsafe or that involve inappropriate, coercive, threatening,
or prejudicial social dynamics).

Conclusion
The insights and possibilities I have discussed here are currently being developed by think-
ers in music education across a range of contexts (Ridout & Habron, 2020; Schiavio et al.,
2020; Silverman, 2020; Tuuri & Koskela, 2020). However, the enactivist stance has also in-
spired key developments in critical pedagogy more generally. Notably, the late Joe Kicheloe
(2003) drew on the work of Maturana and Varela (1980) to outline the value of the shift
toward a life-based approach to education:

if life is self-organized, then there are profound ontological, cognitive, and pedagogi-
cal implications. By recognizing new patterns and developing new processes, humans
exercise much more input into their own evolution than previously imagined. In such
a context human agency and possibility is enhanced.
(p. 50)

As Kincheloe comments, the sensing, adaptive, and creative embodied mind is a “reflec-
tion of the evolutionary concept of autopoiesis, self-organizing or self-making of life”
(p. 50). Following on from this, other thinkers are exploring how the kinds of embodied,
468  Dylan van der Schyff
empathic, and synergistic activities associated with creative musicking may aid in devel-
oping a deeper appreciation of the ecologies that sustain us (see Mathews, 1991, 2008;
Rothenberg & Ulvaeus, 2009; Shevock, 2018; van der Schyff, 2015). The idea is that as
students (and other practitioners) imagine and identify continuities between the embodied,
self-making processes they discover in their own music making, and those they encounter
in the environment—e.g., through deep listening in nature, studies in ecology, and the
development of creative projects inspired by such experiences—they may develop deeper
understandings and more compassionate relationships with other-than-human life forms.
There is, of course, much more to be explored here. For now, however, I simply note that
the previous discussion suggests that music education inspired by enactive and 4E thinking
can do much more than guide creative instrumental and musical practice. Indeed, the kinds
of personally, socially, ecologically, and critically engaged perspectives embraced by em-
bodied music pedagogies may play a central role in helping students explore, understand,
and express the experiences and challenges they face in the modern world. Accordingly,
these educational approaches can help to open pluralistic perspectives and new relation-
ships, empowering students (and teachers) to enact new forms of musical praxis that reflect
more diverse, compassionate, and evolving ways of being and knowing.

Questions for Consideration

1 What kinds of creativities are you able to discern in your own practice and teaching?
In what ways do they combine and inform each other?
2 How might a 4E model aid in researching and planning pedagogical environments
that encourage multiple creativities? How could this approach be used to conceptualize
creative collaborations involving technologies, improvisation, composition, dance, and
visual media?
3 How could various creativities combine in projects that explore and express experi-
ences of difference and diversity? How would embodied, embedded, extended, and
enactive aspects come into play here?
4 In what ways could enactive and pluralist conceptions of creativity inspire deeper en-
vironmental awareness? What kinds of creative projects might be involved with this?
5 How do you experience, conceive of, and engage with challenging periods of insta-
bility in your musical learning, creative practice, and teaching? How do they manifest
across bodily, emotional, social, and material domains? And what kinds of factors and
strategies might help to ensure that these transformative experiences result in positive
outcomes?

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39 Gratitude during Times of Uncertainty
Connections to Creativities in Music Education
Christian Bernhard

Ted can’t believe his bad luck. Thirty years of high school teaching are ending at the height
of a global pandemic, forcing cancellation of live concerts, pivoting to video-conferenced
lessons and rehearsals, and causing frustration from students, parents, and administrators
(Figure 39.1). Plans for one last “Superior” rating at the state concert band festival and a gala
final concert have all been abruptly placed on hold. Ted can only notice the negative, failing
to realize small gifts and opportunities in the new reality. His anger leads to poor personal
health choices, which only cause him to feel worse. He lacks motivation to plan for online
classes and rehearsals, simply stating that everything is ruined, and lashing out at students
or colleagues who attempt to help.

Figure 39.1  Children playing.

Source: Robert Collins, Unsplash, https://unsplash.com/

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-45
474  Christian Bernhard
Considering Gratitude
As music teachers have grappled with challenges associated with the COVID-19 pandemic,
economic fallout, and social unrest, questions related to curricular content, modes of in-
structional delivery, and even relevance of performing ensembles continue to pervade the
profession of music education. During such times of uncertainty, it is possible to seek rem-
edies and reasons for hope. Experts from the field of positive psychology have suggested
that practicing gratitude – feelings or responses of appreciation, thankfulness, and wonder –
can help to manage stress, prevent burnout, and even enhance creativities (e.g., Burnard,
2012; Charzynska, 2020; Elmore & McPeak, 2019; Emmons, 2007; Seligman, 2011). Mc-
Cullough, Emmons, and Tsang (2002) found gratitude to be positively related to optimism
and life satisfaction, while negatively related to depression, anxiety, materialism, and envy.
Emmons (2007) further documented that gratitude can enhance willpower, improve aca-
demic performance, deepen spirituality, and increase self-esteem.
Bass (2018) suggested that gratitude includes both personal and communal expressions,
with both emotional feeling and ethical response. Personal expressions of gratitude might
include strong feelings of awe, delight, and joy when someone helps or offers a gift of some
sort. Communal expressions of gratitude can occur in places of worship, in sporting events,
and even in music-making environments, and have been shown to lessen feelings of lone-
liness and isolation. According to Emmons (2007), “gratitude takes us outside ourselves,
where we see ourselves as part of a larger, intricate network of sustaining relationships,
relationships that are mutually reciprocal” (p. 54).
The Gratitude Questionnaire-Six Item Form is a survey developed by McCullough, Em-
mons, and Tsang (2002) that has been employed in research studies to measure gratefulness
among various populations (Table 39.1). All six items measure perceptions of thankfulness,
both short and long term, on a seven-degree scale, from “strongly disagree” (one point)
to “strongly agree” (seven points). Items one, two, four, and five are scored on an additive
scale, while items three and six are reverse scored. For reverse scoring, “strongly disagree”
is scored with seven points, “strongly agree” is scored with one point, “disagree” is scored
with six points, “agree” is scored with two points, etc. Final scores for the GQ-6 fall be-
tween a minimum of six and a maximum of 42 points. “The GQ-6 has good internal reli-
ability, with alphas between .82 and .87” (McCullough, Emmons, & Tsang, 2002, p. 112).
I used the survey in two recent studies of music majors and K-12 music educators.
Participants for the first study (Bernhard, 2020a) were 257 music majors at a public uni-
versity school of music (47.07% of 546 potential respondents) who were compared by year
in school (freshman, sophomore, junior, senior, or graduate) and major (music education
or non-music education). The secondary purpose was to examine relationships among
perceived gratitude and academic/personal variables (number of credits and hours per

Table 39.1  T
 he Gratitude Questionnaire-Six Item Form (GQ-6)

1 = strongly disagree, 2 = disagree, 3 = slightly disagree, 4 = neutral, 5 = slightly agree, 6 = agree,

7 = strongly agree
1 I have so much in life to be thankful for.
2 If I had to list everything that I felt grateful for, it would be a very long list.
3 When I look at the world, I don’t see much to be grateful for.
4 I am grateful to a wide variety of people.
5 As I get older I find myself more able to appreciate the people, events, and situations that have
been part of my life history.
6 Long amounts of time can go by before I feel grateful to something or someone.
Source: McCullough, Emmons, and Tsang (2002).
 Gratitude During Times of Uncertainty  475
week of classes, ensembles, homework, practice, exercise, sleep, work, and socializing).
Collectively, mean scores for gratitude were comparable to university students in pre-
vious studies (e.g., McCullough, Emmons, & Tsang, 2002). Results of multivariate and
univariate analyses of variance revealed that no significant differences in gratitude were
reported by year in school, but music education majors reported significantly higher lev-
els of gratitude than non-music education majors. Moderate positive correlations were
observed between gratitude and reported hours of sleep. Participants who reported more
sleep were also likely to report stronger dispositions for gratitude, and there is promise for
the teaching profession that music education majors were more likely than other music
majors to feel grateful.
Participants for the second study (Bernhard, 2020b) were 235 music teachers from the
state of New York (47% of 500 potential respondents) who were compared by grade level
taught (elementary, middle, high school, or a combination), certification status (initial or
professional), and teaching area (instrumental, choral/general, or a combination). The sec-
ondary purpose was to examine relationships among perceived gratitude and teaching/
personal variables (number of hours per week of teaching, preparing, exercising, sleeping,
socializing, family obligations, and working another job). Collectively, mean scores for
gratitude were comparable to adults in previous studies (e.g., McCullough, Emmons, &
Tsang, 2002). Results of multivariate and univariate analyses of variance revealed that mid-
dle school music teachers reported lower levels of gratitude than other music educators, and
early career music teachers (four or fewer years in the profession) reported lower levels of
gratitude than those with more experience. This finding supports long-known research re-
garding challenges for teachers in their first years of the profession (e.g., Gold, Bachelor, &
Michael, 1989; Hamann, 1986). Regarding teaching area, instrumental music teachers re-
ported higher levels of gratitude than others, on average. Moderate positive correlations
were observed between gratitude and reported hours of exercise, while moderate negative
correlations were observed between gratitude and hours of teaching preparation. Support
for early career teachers, as well as those who teach middle grades and/or a combination
of general/choral, is likely needed, and further support for the importance of exercise and
work-life balance is evident.

Connections to Creativities
In addition to these studies, researchers from fields outside music education have established
connections between gratitude and creativities. Pillay, Park, Kim, and Lee (2020) studied
the effects of gratitude intervention on the creativity of college students working in small
groups. Participants enrolled in existing psychology classes in Singapore were asked to con-
sider creative ways to improve education at their university. Half of the participants were
given a five-minute gratitude intervention, with instructions to write freely about issues
and people for which they were thankful, while the other half were given no intervention.
All participants were working in small groups, already assigned in their regular psychol-
ogy classes. Groups of students who had received the gratitude writing intervention were
judged to be more deliberate than others, and had more thorough integration of peers’
ideas, leading to more creative solutions for improving education at their university.
Similarly, Chen, Guo, Song, and Lyu (2020) examined workplace gratitude among 229
employees from architectural companies in China. Participants in this study also demon-
strated positive organizational behaviors and group creativity under conditions of gratitude
intervention. Interestingly, intervention in this study involved increasing levels of “error
management climate,” encouraging employees to embrace mistakes instead of hiding from
them, and sharing lessons learned from failures with one another. The researchers found
476  Christian Bernhard
these benefits to be particularly impressive for employees who had initially expressed the
lowest levels of job satisfaction, perhaps indicating even more need for gratitude among
those who are least content.
Arnout and Almoied (2020) designed a structural model to predict how gratitude, resil-
ience, and psychological well-being can predict creativity. Participants for the study were
369 psychological counselors working in Saudi Arabia, and the measure for gratitude was
the “Counsellors’ Gratitude Scale (CGS-10),” which included dimensions of both thank-
fulness to others and thankfulness from others. The researchers found that counselors who
reported higher levels of gratitude were more likely to also report more creative therapeutic
interventions than peers who reported lower levels of gratitude. Supporting the notion of
gratitude from others, Wang and Cheng (2010) studied connections between leadership
style and creativity of workers via 167 dyads of supervisors and subordinates in Taiwanese
technology companies. The researchers found that benevolent leaders positively impacted
creativity of those they guided, and that the connection was particularly strong when sub-
ordinates perceived autonomy and strong role identity in their work.
Burnard’s (2012) work regarding musical creativities resonates with many of these re-
search findings. She posited a multidimensional model of creativities in which individ-
uals rely on one another and sometimes change roles within a complex web of music,
technology, industries, commerce, cultural production, and social spaces. “Musicians are
constantly repositioning themselves across multiple fields. From the collective creativity
of collaborative teams to the empathic creativity of improvised musics, we see musicians
broaden their remit and locate their work across different industries” (p. 217). Within such
a complex system, awareness of relationships and gratitude for resulting symbiosis can aid
in furthering creativities.
Bass (2018) cautioned that gratitude should not be oversimplified, and can be difficult
to negotiate in cases of deep sickness or trauma. Suffering individuals will likely need
physical and/or mental therapy to address underlying tensions before normal practices of
gratitude can be negotiated. She also noted that males often struggle with gratitude more
than females, a finding supported by more recent research of Charzynska (2020), and that
traditional notions of gratitude sometimes involve a controlled system of benefactors and
beneficiaries, with targeted expectation for reciprocity. In worst-case scenarios, those on
the receiving end are indebted to their givers, potentially leading to guilt and shame. Bass
states that

if we’re thankful for something that cuts us off from others or sets people at odds, it
may not be genuine gratitude. It may be an emotion birthed in fear and control. Grat-
itude connects us, even across racial, class, and national boundaries, allowing us to feel
together.
(p. 107)

Despite these cautions, gratitude has been found to be beneficial across various age pop-
ulations. For example, Froh, Sefick, and Emmons (2008) examined the effects of grat-
itude on the subjective well-being of 221 early adolescents. They assigned participants
randomly to one of three groups (gratitude, hassles, or control), and found that counting
blessings improved school experience immediately following treatment and three weeks
following. Toepfer, Cichy, and Peters (2012) studied the effects of writing letters of grati-
tude. ­M iddle-aged adult participants wrote three letters over a period of three weeks and
reported increased happiness and life-satisfaction, as well as decreased depression. Similarly,
Killen and Macaskill (2015) found two weeks of gratitude journaling to be beneficial for
older adults, both short term and one month following treatment.
 Gratitude During Times of Uncertainty  477
Recommendations for Practice
One of the first steps in practicing gratitude is developing awareness. Setting specific times
of day to contemplate or write statements of gratitude can help to reduce depressive symp-
toms by reframing negative thoughts and promoting positive emotions. While it is some-
times easier to notice headwinds, or life’s difficulties and challenges, recognizing tailwinds,
opportunities, and advantages that are already in place can be sustainably beneficial (Dav-
idai & Gilovich, 2016). Similarly, Bono (2020) suggested that life satisfaction can be meas-
ured as a mathematical equation of division, in which recognizing what we have serves
as the numerator, and pining for what we think we want serves as the denominator. For
example, five blessings that are already occurring versus one item of want would result in a
life satisfaction score of five. Recognizing only one blessing while longing for five items of
want would result in a life satisfaction score of only 0.20, or one-fifth.
Scholars from the 2021 Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium supported many
of these ideas, including notions of kindness, mental space, and reflection. For example,
Burnard (2021) discussed the importance of mindful silence in order to recognize challenges
and opportunities for growth. Fung (2021) posited similar ideas within his philosophical
framework of ancient Chinese wisdoms. By recognizing cycles of Yin and Yang, he sug-
gested that the calm and quiet of Yin can be used to prepare for returns of Yang intensity
and energy. Kratus (2021) adjusted his well-known concept of “small acts of subversion” to
suggest that moments of uncertainty and renewal might also involve small acts of kindness.
As music educators and students negotiate post-pandemic challenges and opportunities,
gratitude can be a helpful practice to embrace work-life balance and space for reflection.
In addition to using gratitude during times of challenge and uncertainty, the practice is
likely beneficial for encouraging creativities. While much of the aforementioned research
connecting gratitude and creativity was conducted outside the field of music education,
there are many possibilities for the future. For example, music educators might consider
a paradigm shift from teacher- or conductor-led classes or rehearsals to student-generated
exploration. The research of Pillay, Park, Kim, and Lee (2020) suggests that implementing
gratitude interventions in small group settings might enable trust and collaboration among
participating members. Traditional chamber ensembles or more organic groupings of en-
semble members could allow space for decision making regarding existing repertoire or cre-
ating original improvisations and compositions (e.g., Kerchner & Strand, 2016; Randles &
Stringham, 2013; Stringham & Bernhard, 2019). Chen, Guo, Song, and Lyu (2020) im-
portantly noted that making room for errors or perceived wrong directions can be par-
ticularly beneficial to creative effort, and that gratitude for these possibilities should be
embraced. Encouraging group members to be more aware of and attentive to the needs of
others enables more flexible cognition and greater resilience, thereby promoting creativity
(Miron-Spektor & Beenen, 2015).
Shifts in the traditional role of teacher as leader, or even dictator, should also be nego-
tiated. Arnout and Almoied (2020) noted the importance of both gratitude to others and
gratitude from others. Music educators thus have a responsibility of enabling a welcoming
and caring classroom or rehearsal environment in which risk-taking is encouraged. Wang
and Cheng (2010) similarly found that students might create most readily as a result of
benevolent leadership and autonomy. Autonomy is the notion that individuals who have
freedom to self-regulate and responsibility to act alone are more likely to experience life sat-
isfaction than those who are controlled by others. Yu, Levesque-Bristol, and Maeda (2018)
conducted a meta-analysis of 36 studies correlating the need for autonomy and subjective
well-being among 12,906 participants from Japan, China, and the United States, and found
that autonomy is indeed a universal psychological need. However, Elmore and McPeak
478  Christian Bernhard
(2019) suggested that teachers, parents, and administrators often stifle autonomy over those
they supervise, unintentionally limiting creativities and growth among students, children,
and employees. It is important that music teachers trust their students and create space for
learning, while simultaneously receiving latitude and respect from their administration.
Revisiting the opening vignette of this chapter, consider how Ted could improve his re-
sponses to the pandemic, ultimately flourishing and enabling creativities among his students.
Like most of his colleagues and students, Ted is surprised by the sudden shift to online
teaching and learning. But he creates space to pause and reflect before acting. He challenges
himself to write and think about every aspect of life that is still going well. Ted recognizes
his good fortune in having students who have access to internet at home or local libraries. He
knows that he is safe in his own apartment, and that he still has the ability to make music.
Searching through social media and other resources, Ted finds digital programs capable of
recording multiple soundtracks together. He actually enjoys the process of playing multiple
parts of a popular movie theme on his trombone, and even adds a bit of beatboxing and phys-
ical movement to the performance. Ted’s students respond with tremendous enthusiasm after
receiving the recording, and start creating their own improvisations and compositions, often
with greater enthusiasm than they had practiced traditional concert band parts. Ted closes
the year with digital “informance” of student creativities, and they celebrate his retirement
with a drive-by parade outside his apartment, expressing joy and gratitude for his 30 years of
service. Ted is so touched and motivated that he decides to return for at least one more year.

Questions for Consideration

1 List and reflect about three things for which, or people for whom, you are grateful.
2 List and reflect about three people who have thanked you during the past year.
3 Discuss ways in which gratitude might be included in a traditional music classroom or
rehearsal setting.
4 Discuss ways in which gratitude might lead to enhanced creativities in a traditional
music classroom or rehearsal setting.
5 Discuss ways in which gratitude and creativities might impact the traditional teacher/
conductor-led music classroom or rehearsal setting. How might student agency and
leadership be impacted?

References
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40 Musical Creativities, Spirituality,
and Playing Drum Kit in Black
Light Bastards
Gareth Dylan Smith

Drumming and Self-Affirmation

Shortly after my 40th birthday, a tattoo artist by the name of Miaow emblazoned my right
arm with the logo of drummer John Bonham – one of the half dozen or so drummers
most influential in my playing (and the only one with a logo). I had always wanted tattoos
because I thought they looked cool, but it took me until the start of my fifth decade to get
one because only then had I come to know (or, more accurately, to accept) who I am. Who
I am is a drummer. I play rock drums. I have written elsewhere (Smith, 2019) about how
I have long felt like I ought to be playing more jazz, more musical theater, more classical
music, more solos, more sophisticated compositions, maybe learn how to play math rock.
But in my 40s I have finally come to terms with me. I am grateful to have found my stride,
but I am keen to help instill confidence and self-assurance in my students so that they might
find theirs sooner, and model means to help their own students find theirs. Per the opening
epigram from Gregory Melchor-Barz, I wrote this chapter in the hope that it might prompt
me to help my students to accept their whole selves and flourish; there is power in acknowl-
edging whom we are as musicians for, as Burnard (2012, p. 213) affirms, musicianship, and,
in particular, “musical creativities… are deeply embedded in the dynamic flux of a musi-
cian’s personal and socio-cultural life”.
It was unfortunate that acceptance of myself coincided with moving more than 3,000
miles from the United Kingdom where I had grown up, to the United States where I ac-
cepted a job and the possibilities of new opportunities for my family. A series of work visas,
temporary accommodations, and relocations made it impossible for me to play drums in a
regular outfit or look for one to which to commit myself. Unable to make much live rock
music in the ways that I wanted and to which I was used, I got two more tattoos by way of
affirming who I was in the world. My inner left bicep is inked with the word “eudaimo-
nia”, about thriving through pursuit of one’s true purpose (Norton, 1976; Seligman, 2002;
Smith, 2016), and the outer left bicep bears a stylized graphic representation of an unclut-
tered drum kit with sticks. The tattoos helped to remind me who I was and what I was here
for, during a time when opportunities to play drums were sparse.
After eventually putting down roots in the form of the down payment on a home in east-
ern Pennsylvania, I joined a promising stoner rock band in nearby northern New Jersey, but
we broke up during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic due to disagreements over
the importance of wearing masks in enclosed spaces during a global pandemic. The pan-
demic was admittedly far easier for me and on me than it was probably for 90% of people in
the world, so I do not mean to overstate the trauma of the experience for me as a privileged
working-class Englishman/aspiring middle-class US-American shielded from all of the
worst that the COVID-19 pandemic wrought on humanity. Nonetheless, the lockdowns
and continued anxiety and regulations over gathering in-person took their emotional toll

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-46
 Playing Drum Kit in Black Light Bastards  481
as I felt truly stripped of my ability to be most effectively me (Smith, in press a). There was
a sad, deflating irony to the artwork now engraved forever on my body, as I sat existentially
rotting in Zoom meeting after Zoom meeting, trying to content myself with playing drums
occasionally, alone and at a neighborly volume in my garage.
In November 2020, a local musician contacted me through my website to ask if I would
be interested in jamming with him and a singer on some new material they were develop-
ing in “a sound explosion of post punk, new wave, next wave” (Black Light Bastards, 2021).
He sent me some demo recordings, we met to rehearse in the music store just down the
road, and thus began a musical relationship wherein I felt unleashed and empowered – not
to mention relieved – to embark on a journey where my musicality and musical creativities
(Burnard, 2012) could be expressed, harnessed, and channeled into some fabulously fulfill-
ing collaborative musicking as a member of Black Light Bastards (hereafter, BLB).

Creativity and Spirituality

Pervading this chapter is the notion of collaborative, collective musical creativity ­( Burnard,
2012, p. 43). Any decisions I make about drumming in BLB – be they moment to moment
as we play a given song, or more considered such as layering samples to play back during
performance – are necessarily collaborative, since the impetus for my own creative pro-
cesses and decisions are the musical context and creativities of my fellow band members,
Yoav and Ingrid. Furthermore, playing drum kit is intrinsically and unavoidably collabo-
rative, since any drummer is constantly referencing other drummers and other drumming
in their art and craft. Even the decision to play a drum kit is socially located, made possible
only by the history and culture of drumming. Drummers’ music making is thus always part
of a moving, three-dimensional, cultural-historical, or cultural-psychological web (Bren-
nan, 2020; Pitsiladis, 2021; Smith, 2013, in press b). Scholars such as David Orr (2020),
June Boyce-Tillman (2020), Tim Ingold (2021), Daniel Shevock (2018), and Tawnya Smith
(2021) help to remind us that musical activity is also always made in collaboration with the
natural world of which we are each a part – however consciously or otherwise this may
be. With the trees that gave the wood for my drums, with the rocks that provided the ore
for my cymbals, and with the distant, anonymous human makers of the fine sticks, drums,
metals, and electronics that I play, I am connected far beyond my immediate context, and
my own musical creativities are dependent on others’ creativities in crafting the tools that
I use.
Playing drum kit is, for me, a holistically fulfilling experience and essentially spiritual.
Rock drumming is where and when I am most authentically me and when I experience
the greatest satisfaction and thrill in being alive, through being “able to perform the role of
a creative drummer and craft my own rhythmic-sonic palette” (Smith, in press a, emphasis
added). In this chapter I explore my musical creativities as the drummer in BLB through
June Boyce-Tillman’s (2011, 2020) model of spirituality, which encapsulates the richness
and interconnectedness of transcendent experience that is possible through making music.
The opportunities to realize musical creativities in BLB turn the places where we make
music together into poietic spaces (Pignato & Begany, 2015) where spirituality is pos-
sible; simultaneously, the various elements comprising spirituality engender poietic time
and space, where my creativity flows. Boyce-Tillman writes primarily about experiencing
spirituality in choral performance, but as I have described elsewhere (Smith, in press a, in
press b), it is a model equally well suited to framing experience of, and musical creativities
in, playing drum kit; indeed, “playing drums collaboratively, creatively, and expressively in
rock bands is vital to my holistic wellbeing, spirituality, and to meaningfulness in my life”
(Smith, in press a).
482  Gareth Dylan Smith
Boyce-Tillman explains that humans can achieve spirituality through alignment of ac-
tivity in four domains:

• Materials: the instruments, the body, and the technical aspects involved in producing
sound as well as the acoustics of the space
• Construction: the way music is put together – what is repeated, what is changed, the
degree of contrast
• Values: the context of musicking and its cultural meaning
• Expression: the feelingful aspects of the experience including those within the sounds
themselves (intrinsic) and those locked onto the sounds by significant life experiences
(extrinsic)

These combine to account for:

Spirituality/liminality—a different way of knowing where time and space operate

differently
(Boyce-Tillman, 2020, p. 75)

These categories necessarily overlap, so an experience identified under, for instance, Materi-
als contains elements that could also be explained or discussed under Construction, ­Values,
and Expression. This interconnectivity highlights the integrity – the integrated-ness – of
musical creativities as holistic and spiritual. In the following four sections, I explain how
creativities and Spirituality are entwined in my drumming with BLB.

Materials
the instruments, the body and the technical aspects involved in producing sound as well
as the acoustics of the space
(Boyce-Tillman, 2020, p. 75)

The music I make at the drums in BLB, and the creativities I access when doing so are not
entirely my own, nor even entirely those of the musicians in the band. What I can do and
say with the drums is defined and decided by, and done in collaborative creative interaction
with, the materials in harmony with which that music is made. The world in which we live,
and the parts of it with which we interact, “constitute[s] us” as humans. They are present in
our musical creativities, which are only possible because of the spaces, places, and tools with
which we make. BLB’s music is an expression in, through, and by the environment, the
“relational field” (Ingold, 2012, p. 13) in which it is created. Virtuoso bassist and creative
musical genius, Victor Wooten (2006), speaks beautifully to this understanding in his book,
writing about making music not only in but consciously and intentionally with the material
world; for this reason, whenever he puts down his bass guitar after playing it, he thanks
the instrument. Wooten urges that this “attitude of gratitude” (p. 150) makes his music less
about his ego and more about all of which it is comprised.
I am grateful for making music with BLB. When we started playing together I felt an
abundant joy during and after our rehearsals, which I also now feel when we perform. A
big part of that joy is gratitude – to and for my instruments, to the sound engineer who
manages the signals coming from the band’s equipment, to the room with the walls that
shape the sound, the hickory ProMark 2B drumsticks that feel like extensions of my arms,
the custom-fit in-ear monitors that help situate me sonically are the core of the ensemble,
and Premier birchwood snare and shimmering Paiste Masters 2000 series cymbals whose
 Playing Drum Kit in Black Light Bastards  483
sounds excite and thrill me. Each time I feel the drumstick in my hand connect to a drum-
head, hi-hat, or crash cymbal, and as I feel my leg sink seamlessly via my foot and the Tama
Camco pedal I have played for 23 years into the head of the bass drum, I relish and revel
in connecting with the other materials that comprise the BLB sound. Gratitude for these
material experiences and relations, I feel as joy (Compte-Sponville, 2001). Recognizing –
corresponding with (Ingold, 2021) – these Materials curates a space of poiesis, where cre-
ativity can flourish.
Playing in BLB was highly creative me for from the start. Given that we were getting to
know one another musically during the height of governments’ and businesses’ responses to
the COVID-19 pandemic, we were unable to perform. As such, our efforts necessarily cen-
tered on collaborative “compositional creativity” (Burnard, 2012, p. 44), a process captured
beautifully by Burnard’s description of “the creativity sparked by dialogue and determination,
and that arising from… collaboation in attempts to create a unique sound” as an originals
band (Burnard, 2012, p. 44). Yoav the bassist was keen for me to have a different drum kit
than the traditional punk/rock setup of bass, snare, toms, and cymbals. He had devised an
electronic snare sample that he wanted as part of the band’s signature sound, but when I played
from my sample pad instead of using a regular snare drum, we realized that we needed the
attack and acoustic impact of the real snare as well. We thought it would be fun then, too,
to trigger a massive, bassy kick drum sound, and that it would be even more fun for us and
audiences if I triggered it by playing my tiny, silver sparkle bass drum which, acoustically, is
quite quiet and unassuming. So I downloaded some open-source bass drum samples, found
five that worked well layered atop one another, played with the volumes and EQ of each, and
created a punchy, meaty, fist-in-the-chest bass drum sample to amplify the sound of our trio.
Working with sampled sonic materials in this way was new for me, so I was able to exercise
exploratory, compositional creativity in correspondence with these various sounds.
Thus ensued an iterative collaborative process between me working at home in a DAW to
layer and EQ drum sounds, and the band testing them out in weekly rehearsals to see what
made us all grin and tingle with excitement. The drum sound was massive, exciting, and
unique, and in conversation with what I heard when playing and hearing it in the context
of band, my creative choices about groove and dynamics evolved moment to moment, week
to week.

Construction
the way music is put together—what is repeated, what is changed, the degree of contrast
(Boyce-Tillman, 2020, p. 75)

The band’s individual and collective musical creativities seemed ablaze as we developed
and defined the BLB sound over months of rehearsals in the poietic space of our rehearsal
room. The band’s sound continues to evolve and is necessarily different from gig to gig due
to the creative musicality of the venue’s sound engineer, the acoustics of the room, and the
energy the band members each and collectively bring to respective performances. I explore
our performance creativities more, below, under “Expression”. In order to reach a place
where we could focus on these more expressive musical creativities, we had to co-create
the songs and the band’s signature sound. Here is where I got to exercise my compositional
creativity as a drummer and thinking musician; writing this, I recall Sean Lee’s description
of collaboratively writing songs for a commercially successful rock band in the early 2000s
that led him to call the drum kit a “thinking man’s instrument” (in Smith, 2013, p. 75)
(I feel certain that, if asked, Sean would agree the drums are an instrument well suited to
thinkers of all genders).
484  Gareth Dylan Smith
As is often the case with bands in which I play, the other two members of BLB had
already written an album’s worth of songs prior to my playing with them. The band was
looking for someone to help them realize a musical vision, and we all had to see whether
and how I would fit in. I had initially been slightly disheartened by the demo versions of
some of the songs Yoav sent me via email, as the drums sounded robotic and tedious and
lacked dynamics. My doubts were swiftly eliminated in rehearsals, however, when it be-
came apparent that I would be carefully and meticulously (also very loudly and groovingly!)
crafting new drum parts for the songs, in collaboration with bassist and singer. The BPM of
each song was set by click tracks I played along to, so with tempos already decided, I could
focus on crafting parts that ebbed and flowed, ducked, and wove, while continuously pro-
pelling the songs forward with the animated high energy necessary in a punk rock combo.
In rehearsals, we ran songs and sections of songs, with Yoav suggesting drum rhythms he
had in his head, me trying out variations on these, and both Yoav and Ingrid commenting
on what they thought worked most effectively for the idiosyncrasies of the song. I loved
working out bass drum patterns that complemented and emphasized the bass guitar pat-
terns while retaining a strong snare drum backbeat, creating hi-hat sticking patterns that
displayed moderately athletic flourishes around the contours of the vocal lines, and hi-hat
pedaling that helped outline melodic phrases in each song. I relied on the classic rock
drumming tropes of playing closed hi-hats during quieter parts of songs, and battering
open hi-hats and repeated cymbal crashes in louder, fuller moments. I love the relentless
whooshing roar that is sustained when a crash cymbal is hit evenly over and over, creating a
uniquely full sensory experience at that frequency range. BLB’s co-creation of these drum
parts exemplified “group-based compositional activity [that] is embedded in improvisatory
practices leading to final products” (Burnard, 2012, p. 68) – in this case, the songs we would
eventually perform live and record.
A key part of the band’s sound, and thus of each song’s Construction, is thick, lush,
melodic, and often raspy programmed keyboard tracks that we played long to in lieu of a
fourth band member. I enjoyed deploying compositional creativity in selecting when to
punctuate the keyboard tracks with cymbal crashes, and which of my two crash cymbals
to play when. In rehearsal and performance, I always try to create a conversation between
the two crashes; when I listen back to recordings of BLB, this back-and-forth seems less
obvious, but in my head the crash cymbals’ dialogue is a fairly intense and ever-present
component of the parts as I create them in real time. When I recorded the drum parts for
our album – operationalizing BLB’s “co-constructed production creativity” (Burnard,
2012, p. 43) – I agonized over where to play the 18-inch and where the 20-inch crash, be-
cause of the relative permanence of the recorded artifact.
I experienced an especially exhilarating compositional creative process when Yoav asked
me to create a loop to run in between two of our songs in the live set. He wanted it at 120
BPM so that it would lead into the next song in the set at that same tempo, and we all felt it
should be filthy and gritty sounding, in keeping with the aesthetic established by the sound
of Yoav’s aggressive bass guitar; Yoav came to practice one day and unveiled the gnarliest
snarl – his bass barks, roars, and growls. I had great fun at my digital audio workstation
(DAW), taking a jaunty drum pattern I had composed and recorded for a different project
a few months prior, compressing the sound, exporting it, and further compressing it till it
sounded really distorted, then dirtying the sounds more by overlaying the drum kit part
with a looped, reverb-saturated sound of earth’s atmosphere downloaded from the NASA
website, and folding in sounds resulting from a previous electro-acoustic jam session with a
friend. The result of exercising these composition and production creativities, in producing
a recorded artifact to play back during future performances, was a punchy, unique, groov-
ing fist-in-the-chest that amplifies the sounds and swagger of our trio.
 Playing Drum Kit in Black Light Bastards  485
Values
the context of musicking and its cultural meaning
(Boyce-Tillman, 2020, p. 75)

As I hope is apparent from some of the foregoing description of the collaborative, i­ntra-band
creativities (Smith & Gillett, 2015, p. 9) that characterize BLB’s collective music making,
there is a shared aesthetic among members of the band. We hail from different towns and
continents, but we have many musical influences in common and share an unshakeable
belief in collaboratively creating original, energetic music that rocks hard. Where our exact
influences are not mutual, they are complementary, so although I do not know many of
the nearly-made-it punk and new wave bands that molded the musical minds of my co-­
musickers (nor they, those that molded mine), I know the ethos and style. BLB’s members’
respective and shared values are integral in igniting the band’s collective compositional cre-
ativity which, as Burnard (2012) underlines, is “constituted by, arises out of, and is inscribed
in the dispositions and values, orientations and working practices of [originals] bands and
their members” (p. 4). In BLB, we have a tacit understanding of a shared aesthetic, which
we occasionally articulate aloud. For instance, Ingrid and Yoav want loud, driving drum-
ming, dynamic grooves with little fills, and flourishes here and there as a core component
of our sound. I am quite happy to deliver.
It is worth acknowledging here the overlapping practices of composition and perfor-
mance (Moir & Medbøe, 2015). For instance, in co-composing the drum kit parts for our
songs, BLB would play the music together – we never wrote the drum parts out and then
attempted to play (with) them. At that point, we were not performing the music, per se – we
played the songs in rehearsal, to ourselves. Later, as music venues re-opened and we have
come to play shows and perform to audiences, drum parts that originated in compositional
creativity now thrive in performance creativity; I use the composed parts as a basis for cre-
ativity in performance (as I elaborate, below). As such, drumming in BLB feels authentic.
To elaborate, I turn to Allan F. Moore’s (2002) model of “authenticity as authentication”
(p. 209), where musical authenticity inheres in its perception and reception by, in this case,
the musicians in BLB and our audiences. For Moore:

Authenticity of expression, or… “first person authenticity”, arises when an originator

(composer, performer) succeeds in conveying the impression that his/ her utterance is
one of integrity, that it represents an attempt to communicate in an unmediated form
with an audience.
(Moore 2002, p. 214)

BLB shares this authenticity of expression with our audiences and, moreover, among our-
selves, where we believe in the integrity of one another’s expressions. As Burnard (2012)
affirms, “the creativity of originals bands ultimately rests on the inputs of individuals work-
ing together to mine the wellsprings of their own musical histories and favoured traditions”
(p. 70).
Moore (2002) also discusses “Authenticity of execution, or… ‘third person authentic-
ity’… when a performer succeeds in conveying the impression of accurately represent-
ing the ideas of another, embedded within a tradition of performance” (p. 218). This is
a large part of how BLB works as a group – we understand one another’s musicalities
(Smith & Shafighian, 2013) and musical creativities in relation to the “sound explosion
of post punk, new wave, next wave” sonic vision we share (Black Light Bastards, 2021).
This authenticity was demonstrated in a text message I received from Yoav following our
486  Gareth Dylan Smith
day-after-Thanksgiving concert in Stanhope, New Jersey in November, 2021: “THANK
YOU for making this music/vision come to life. Your choices are PERFECT!” (personal
communication, ­November 27, 2021). The point here is not to “blow my own trum-
pet” (I can vouch for numerous blundering imperfections in my performance and creative
choices on the evening of November 26th!) but, rather, to underscore the shared Values and
mutual gratitude in the band. BLB is a space where I can be me, and where my collabora-
tive, compositional, and improvisational musical creativities are prized.
In BLB I feel empowered to improvise and play around with the drum parts I have
crafted; in truth, I composed them in order to play around with them. That kind of sponta-
neous creative freedom is important to me as a musician; I need the license to tap into my
improvisational creativity (Burnard, 2012, p. 150) at the drums or I feel trapped. The BLB
musicians share this attitude. One day in spring of 2021, Yoav brought an idea for a band
logo to rehearsal (Figure 40.1). Under the band’s name are the words “confined by none”
and when I asked what this meant, he said it was an expression of the band’s creative artistic
freedom and autonomy. We adopted the logo without delay. BLB are on a collective crea-
tive journey, on which we respect one another’s individual musical creativities and want to
allow these all to flourish.
As manifestations of performance creativity and improvisational creativity, my improv-
isations in BLB songs are relatively minor and do not change any fundamental features of
the songs, since to do so could undermine the band’s collective groove and momentum.
These are perhaps helpfully conceived in regard to the functional-compositional contin-
uum, along which Bruford (2018) positions drummers’ creative work. In rehearsal and per-
formance my drumming leans much more to functionality than composition, although, as

Figure 40.1  Black Light Bastards band logo.

 Playing Drum Kit in Black Light Bastards  487
noted above, I worked closer to the compositional end of the continuum when writing the
drums parts. It is vital to me that I have this creative latitude. As the marvelous drummer,
Brian Blade has said:

Everybody wants to be lifted up in their lives, in their experiences. No one, I don’t

think, wants to be too confined. It’s great to find that balance between, okay, am I
serving the situation, and am I giving what’s needed, and am I introducing something
that feeds the fire of it?
(Blade in Philip, 2013, p. 150)

The shared Values in BLB enable me to be my “true self ” (Winnicott, 1965 [1960], p. 142),
to have the “experience of aliveness” (Winnicott, 1965 [1960], p. 148) that comes with that.
As Wahlström (2021, p. 70) notes, “only the true self can feel real and be creative”; I feel
that in BLB.

Expression
the feelingful aspects of the experience including those within the sounds themselves
(intrinsic) and those locked onto the sounds by significant life experiences (extrinsic)
(Boyce-Tillman, 2020, p. 75)

Rock musicians know well the visceral thrill of making, feeling, co-creating the music we
make through our movements and in the reverberations of the sounds in the cocoons of
the spaces where we play (Gracyk, 1996; Smith, 2019). BLB formed during the COVID-19
pandemic before vaccines were available, and while music venues were not yet re-opening.
This meant that we were forced into a longer period of playing together exclusively in
rehearsals than we might have done before the pandemic. After a few months we were all
comfortable and happy with our sound, but rather than wait an indefinite amount of time
for performance opportunities, we kept returning to the practice room in the back of the
local music store to revel in the music we made – relishing the fruits of our collaborative
compositional creativity in sound we made together. The room was tiny, about 40 square
meters. With the PA cranked for backing tracks and vocals, the 10ʺ × 8ʺ bass stack pumping,
and me pelting the drums with all the rock energy the music required, we made a huge
sound. Yes, our sound was loud, but loudness wasn’t really the point – the music was ener-
getic and the sound was big; we could feel the music we made coming back at us instantly
and filling the room, penetrating our bodies, enveloping us.
We have since rehearsed in a couple of other, bigger rooms, and have now performed at
various places including a handful of outdoor gigs and others in more traditional dive bar
rock venues. These were all great fun experiences, and it has been wonderful to share the
music with appreciative audiences instead of just among ourselves, but for sheer physical,
bodily experience of what we do, nothing beats our setup in the small room in back at Bill’s
place in Stroudsburg, PA. There, my drums are positioned between the two inward-angled
PA speakers pounding out the backing tracks, vocals, and my drum triggers (so the bass
drum feels thunderous when I strike it!), with the bass stack also pointing in my direction
and that sound rumbling through my legs and torso. With the room’s diminutive size inten-
sifying the way the sound feels in the room, and my two bandmates moving energetically
while they play and sing, plus the sounds of my acoustic drums coming straight back up at
me, it is thoroughly invigorating!
A vital part of being comfortable enough to express myself is being in bands with friends.
Often, as with BLB, this means being in a band with people who become friends through our
488  Gareth Dylan Smith
mutual musicking. In BLB, Yoav and Ingrid are the most vibrant elements of the “relational
field” (Ingold, 2012, p. 13) in which I play. Expressing myself – giving of myself – in this
band feels valuable and worthwhile because the music belongs to all of us. While I initially
started playing with them after Yoav emailed me saying he “would like to discuss [my]
services (fees, schedule etc.) for live performances” (personal communication, November
11, 2020), now we are a band making music mutually, rather providing services (I have
never liked music making half so much when it feels transactional). Since I began playing
drum kit as a teenager, a “modus operandi [that] has guided my music making to this day –
­playing in bands with friends and peers centers and grounds me” (Smith, in press b). I am
part of the music and BLB’s music is part of me.
I don’t really know my BLB bandmates all that well socially, but musically we are quite
intimate. The benefits of being musically and creatively familiar with one’s co-creators are
widely acknowledged. The brilliantly creative and communicate drummer, Brian Blade
affirms, “It can be hard to play with musicians who haven’t really learned to play with you,
and you haven’t really learned to play with them” (Blade in Philip, 2013, p. 163). Moreover,
as Saxophonist Chris Potter has observed:

A lot of things have to come together to make a great performance. All the people
playing have to be great musicians individually. They have to be able to play really well
with each other, and hopefully play compositions that have some kind of substance to
them… it doesn’t happen all the time.
(Potter in Philip, 2013, p. 439)

In BLB, we fulfill these conditions for successful musicking (notwithstanding the utter lack
of objectivity I have in assessing the relative success of my own band’s music making!). I
would highlight Potter’s observation that this creative musical synergy – or “empathic cre-
ativity” (Burnard, 2012, pp. 159–63) – is not commonplace and is far from guaranteed. Our
empathic creativity is the product of, and works alongside, our collective creativity and the
collaborative musical creativity of bands, and of originals bands, in particular. I frequently
have music making experiences that are no more than adequate, but with BLB, because of
our empathic musical creativity, they are often transcendent, aesthetic, spiritual. On a good
day (and we are fortunate to experience many of these together), we make music at the
“magical nexus” where “musicians hold and encounter complexities of past, present, and
future” (Shorner-Johnson, 2020, p. 62) and where our co-creating is a “greater-than-the-
sum-of-its-parts awesomeness that transports [me and musical collaborators]… to another
plane of being” (Smith, 2013, p. 185). It may seem hyperbolic or un-academic to call music
magic, but I believe it is necessary to account for and to hold time and space for what hu-
mans know holistically and spiritually to be transformational and transcendent. As Randles
(2021) said, “I don’t know that [music] is anything less than magic”; at the core of that magic
in BLB is empathic musical creativity.

In Conclusion – Spirituality and Music Education

Exercising and realizing musical creativities are at the heart of my intense, immersive,
spiritual experience playing drum kit in Black Light Bastards. The experience of spiritual-
ity in BLB was especially liberatory during the pandemic when so little music making was
possible and this provided an outlet for expressing the deepest version of me. I am grateful
to my bandmates, Ingrid and Yoav, for this. I found my place among my people, and this
positioning enables, drives, and nurtures my musical creativities. As Randles (2020) noted,
“Your creativity is dependent upon your ability to make sense of where you are, what the
 Playing Drum Kit in Black Light Bastards  489
people around you are doing, and how you can best plan for what is ahead” (p. 312); in
BLB, I feel enabled to be authentically me. I feel similarly about writing this chapter; I
know the book’s editors well as colleagues, and one is a dear friend. They have enabled and
facilitated my creativity as part of this collective creative project.
As with this chapter’s opening epigram from Melchor-Barz, my point in this chapter
has not been merely to regale readers with the selfish indulgences and mid-life revelations
of an ageing drummer. Rather, I have reflected on realization of my musical creativities
as a drummer in a band, in the hope that readers might seek similar specificity in under-
standing the diverse and person-specific creativities and musicalities of themselves, their
colleagues, students, and peers. I see an imperative for music teachers and music teacher
educators to value all the musicians, the musicalities, and the musical creativities present in
their classrooms, lest, as Burnard (2012) warns, we fall back on “taken for granted” (p. 44)
assumptions about what constitutes musical creativity or creativities. I am sure that no one
else’s musical creativities look exactly like mine; for instance, I thrive on having poietic
space to exercise collective creativity in rock originals bands, among musicians I know
well, and whose music I have co-written deploying collaborative, compositional creativity,
and whose songs we play in front of audiences, exercising performance and improvisa-
tional creativities. Each individual’s musical creativities are necessarily idiosyncratic and I
would urge music educators in all areas of our field to celebrate musicians’ myriad unique
clusters of creativities, however these present and manifest. Even as one of the most norma-
tive-presenting individuals in the music education profession in the United States and the
United Kingdom – an anglophone, cis-gender, straight, white male brought up as a prot-
estant Christian, and culturally competent in Western popular low-brow and h ­ igher-brow
musical idioms – it took me four decades to be openly accepting of whom and what I am
musically. I believe that by embracing people’s musical creativities, and thereby curating
possibilities to access the spiritual and magical to which those creativities grant music mak-
ers access, we can make the music education profession a more welcoming place than it is
already. By recognizing the multiplicity of creativities and teaching to, or educating for,
particular musical creativities at different times, we may tap into those creativities that en-
able people, individually and collectively, to thrive.

Take-Aways
If gatekeepers in the music education profession can swing more gates open more widely to
more musicians and to more musical creativities (including many that we cannot predict,
as new forms of music and music making will surely engender and require new musical
creativities), that can only increase the abundance of humanity that we all experience in our
lives and in our music classrooms. Let us look for creativities and joy, in doing so anticipate
the unexpected, and welcome improvisation and spontaneity in our classrooms, schools,
and communities. In an age of insane levels of “standardization” and extreme testing, never
has the potency of music as a transformative agent been more relevant and important. Ed-
ucators should create and curate spaces where people can be and become musically them-
selves. And if we cannot do that in school, then we must at the very least acknowledge and
recognize the spaces and places outside of school where this happens already, celebrating
the deep and rich musical creativities among us. As Randles (2020, p. 319) noted, this is
imperative because, as a species, “we were created to create”.
This chapter gently breaks new ground in musical creativities research by providing a
first-hand account of musical creativities in practice at the drum kit in the context of an
originals band, in tandem with Boyce-Tillman’s (2020) non-religious model of spiritual-
ity. My writing highlights some of the nuances that comprise the workaday creativity of
490  Gareth Dylan Smith
one average, amateur drummer. In doing so, hopefully this chapter could help to validate
the unspectacular and publicly un-celebrated music making of other musicians who find
authenticity and spirituality in the collaborative, creative music making they do in rock
originals bands.

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41 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences
without a Voice
Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides

How It All Started

From early on in life, I was part of a boys’ choir and was introduced to the power of music.
I enjoyed the shared experience of preparing for a concert and performing together. Early
on in my medical career, I realised that this uplifting group feeling and the enjoyment
of engaging with music could be motivational instruments in speech rehabilitation after
laryngectomy and the loss of one’s voice. We introduced breathing, singing, beatboxing
and acting exercises to help explore laryngectomees’ new voices, and soon we formed a
laryngectomy choir.
During rehearsals and personal coaching, I discovered how superficial my understanding
of the psychosocial layered impact was after this operation, how limited we can be in our
communication as healthcare professionals, how much we can learn from their experiences
and expressions and how good it feels for them to talk about it and share. As a group we
wondered, if could we do something creative and constructive with it.

What Is Laryngectomy?
Laryngectomy is usually performed in patients who present in the later stages of throat
cancer, have recurrences after chemo-radiotherapy or less commonly to protect the airway
from aspiration in neuromuscular conditions. During surgery, the larynx (aka the voice
box or laryngeal assembly) is removed and the trachea (the windpipe) is brought forward
to be attached to the skin, creating an opening in the front of the neck. It is important
to note that, after laryngectomy, the airway is not directly connected with the mouth
anymore: instead, they are breathing in and out through the neck (Elmiyeh et al., 2010;
Figure 41.1).
Removing the larynx removes the normal source of the voice (i.e. through the vibration
of the vocal folds inside the larynx, caused by the drive through airstream). Some resto-
ration of an “altered” voice can be achieved by diverting the air through a valve from the
trachea into the narrowed “neo-pharynx” (i.e. the “new pharynx” – the repaired area of
throat where the voice box used to be) so that this can vibrate upwards towards the mouth
where articulation into speech can occur (Figure 41.2).
The psychosocial impact of losing the voice is significant, affecting a person’s professional
and social life in a devastating way. It should be no surprise that patients often fall prey to
social isolation and depression (Moors et al., 2020). Change in voice impacts the identity,
the emotional expression and social connection (Bickford et al., 2013). The additional im-
pact of laryngectomy on breathing, smell, taste, swallow, appearance of the neck, shoulder
stiffness, difficulties with lifting heavy objects and opening the bowels complicates the
recovery period and social reintegration (Krishnan & Maclean, 2013, Singer et al., 2014).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-47
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  493

Figure 41.1  Voice prosthesis.

It is a life-changing operation and its layered impact is complex to explain to the persons
who will have to undergo it, or their family and support circles. All this information is
hard to understand and too often, the language, used in these consultations, is too difficult
(Wong et al., 2017). To make things worse, the shock that comes with breaking bad news
interferes with retaining or understanding all the information provided and asking the
right questions. This is complicated even further with the short period of time to digest and
to come to terms with what is happening, as this cancer treatment in most cases happens
within two weeks of the decision to operate. This is very challenging to the good inten-
tions of a more patient-centred care with shared medical decision making (Arora, 2003;
Makoul & Clayman, 2006). As a result, a large proportion of the laryngectomy community
(between 21% and 47%) are dissatisfied with the information and psychological support re-
ceived prior to the operation. The worldwide incidence of laryngeal cancer is about 184,615
resulting in 99,840 deaths (Globocan, 2020) and only a limited proportion of this small
number undergoes the operation. It is a small and scattered community complicating the
provision of information and care.

The Importance of Information

Having access to quality information contributes to shared decision making, greater satis-
faction with care, less affective distress, more feelings of control, to better communication
494  Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides

Figure 41.2  Larynx.

between patient, family and health professional, and to a better quality of life (Arraras, 2010;
Bozec et al., 2019). The professionally active patient group will want even more information
and reassurance facing the additional organisational, familial and financial changes after this
operation (Bozec et al., 2019). Information is available online but, again, often too hard to
understand or too technical/medical without being presented more appropriately and with
too little involvement of post-laryngectomy patients and carers sharing their personal lived
experiences. Even though the support from others, who have similar medical histories and
experiences, is known to be very valuable. Cancer support groups improve the quality of
Life (QOL) and help in treatment decision making (Huber et al., 2018). These groups are
providing educational and psychological support (Huber et al., 2018 & Algtewi, Owens &
Baker, 2017). Indeed, besides the surgeon and the speech therapist, other persons who have
had a laryngectomy are the main source for information about the operation (Lennie et al.,
2001), followed by internet resources that provide education, training (Cnossen et al., 2016)
and online support groups.
For this reason, when diagnosed and told about the surgical plan, efforts are made to
introduce people who will have the operation in the near future to an experienced laryn-
gectomee. This introduction helps and supports both the patient and their social environ-
ment to whom the whole topic is new and frightening. However, it is not always possible
to be organised in view of availability of appropriate patient experts and the frequent short
notice due to the urgency of the surgery. Furthermore, specialised centres providing this
care are often distant for people living in rural areas who therefore engage less with support
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  495
groups. After discharge from the hospital, there are laryngectomy clubs or social gatherings
wherein more practical information is exchanged between patients and their support teams.
These meetings are very helpful but naturally tend to focus on practical issues and it is not
generally customary to encourage patients to express themselves in a creative way about the
trauma they have suffered and are suffering.
The diagnosis of cancer, however, comes with despair, discouragement and disorien-
tation (Dri et al., 2020). It is difficult to adjust to the new situation, recurrence is a worry
(Dri et al., 2020; Bozec, 2019) and there are unavoidable changes to long-term plans
and routines (Dri et al., 2020). The uncertainty and anxiety, the long-term side effects
of the treatment, change in physical appearance, the affected social life and anxiety in-
duced by risk of death are all factors that affect the emotional status of cancer sufferers
(Bozec, 2019).

We Tried an Unusual Way to Express Ourselves

Poetry, interestingly, has been found to be helpful in encouraging discussion of emo-
tional issues (Foster & Freeman, 2008). So we invited our group to engage with poetry
and writing exercises with other participants, their peers as well as clinicians. Poetry,
with its metaphors and similes, helps to express difficult topics and makes it easier to be
understood for different people to interact with, including the doctors and nursing staff
who are dealing with these patients. Poetry can help to find the right words, improve
communication and supplement scientific jargon with an easier more accessible style. It
can offer answers, support, encourage and help acceptance, for example: dealing with
chronic disease or cancer causes self-reflection about meaning of life and although a
common challenge in clinical practice, the medical profession seems less prepared to
deal with situations of ambiguity and uncertainty. For this reason, Foster and Freeman
(2008) argue that the use of poetry results in more empathetic emotional engagement,
including for the clinician, resulting in a better understanding of the individual patients,
their environment and the impact of their treatment. Through the use of metaphors,
poetry raises consciousness and stimulates imagination and helps to develop sensitivity
and empathy.
An obstacle in the social reintegration for this group is the poor understanding of laryn-
geal cancer and laryngectomy in the community, leading to negative experiences including
discrimination and less social support (Bickford et al., 2018). Sadly, despite its importance,
there are few initiatives to explain the layered impact after this operation to a broader au-
dience. A reason more for the Shout at Cancer charity and laryngectomy choir to bring
positive attention to the laryngectomy community. The inspiring outcome of this project
is shared, popular and also helpful for the social support of our target group as they too
undeniably go through distress, and are feeling overwhelmed and unprepared for the new
situation (Teschendorf et al., 2007). The use of creativity helps to explain the impact after
the operation, something new, beyond the familiar and helps to make it more accepted
(Zaidel, 2014). It helps to promote assertiveness in expression and rebuild confidence (Bick-
ford et al., 2018). One of every five patients searches the internet prior to their doctor’s
appointment (Tassone et al., 2004) and we want to contribute to the online database with
positive stories.
In this chapter, we will explain how we explored changes in life after this operation,
helped express the difficult themes and traumatic experiences, and translate those into in-
spiring and educational outcomes, using poetry, music and video as the means to manifest
the endurance and perseverance that our patients demonstrated. The project is interesting
because of the intersection between many different creativities and the central role of an
496  Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides
unusual artistic participant: our laryngectomy choir. Their prominence in the design of
the programme and its performance is what has set in motion this co-creation, and the co-­
authorship is what makes this project even more unique and impactful.

How Did We Make the Group Share Their Thoughts and

Experiences?
We developed three workshops, with ten individuals who had this operation (M 8, F 2) using
a variety of fun and interactive voice exercises, in combination with writing exercises (Spo-
ken Word) and group conversations to help communicate, share and discuss lived challenges
and the impact of laryngectomy on psychological well-being. After the workshops, the initial
writing exercises were further explored and “polished” by the poet, Bruce Sherfield.
During the project, songs that represented the participants’ feelings or those of the
laryngectomy community were suggested by the group. These included “Wonderful
World” by Louis Armstrong, “Ain’t Got No” by Nina Simone, “The Sound of Silence”
by Simon and Garfunkel, and “Shout” by Tears for Fears. We changed the lyrics of these
songs using keywords and information from the patient group gathered during these
workshops. The musician, Peter Edwards, rearranged the songs into jazz versions and
composed improvisations to accompany the expressed emotions and themes in the poems
written by the group.
The workshops were semi-structured and guided/informed by prepared questions and
topics. This allowed us to have control of the process, but invited the participants to influ-
ence the flow and exploration of their thoughts and reflections. It encouraged the elabo-
ration of sometimes less well-expressed thoughts, the exploration of feelings and views, to
help in seeking explanations and clarify meanings. Through initial reading and meetings
with Bruce Sherfield, the poet, we selected keywords, phrases, topics and previous quotes
or reflections from the group to explore further.
To raise the profile and reach a wider audience, we organised two concerts in London for
people to attend at the Cockpit and at the Tabernacle. The outcome of the workshops and
the poetry with songs was so powerful in affecting both those participating and the audi-
ence that it generated a feature-length documentary about the choir by Bill Brummel (Pe-
abody Award winning and five times Emmy-nominated film director). The film portrayed
examples of the broad experiences of laryngectomy patients, and how they traversed the
traumatic psychosocial obstacles of living without a voice box, to emerge as fully engaged,
communicative and accomplished human beings. The poetry and the songs became like
characters in the film. This emphasises, once more, why co-creating ways to unlock new
creativities together is important.

A Plural Creative Outcome Shared Together

The group of participants shared a plethora of interesting topics and valuable insights into
how laryngectomy had affected their psychosocial life. The discourse also involved chal-
lenges faced by negative perceptions in the wider society, primarily based on the lack of
understanding and lack of education about laryngectomy and laryngectomees. The Spoken
Word Workshops were translated into a narrative of testimonials and poetry that elaborate
and explain the landscape of life after laryngectomy. They were integrated in Jazz music
and performed and recited live. Only a few examples of the poetry and changed song lyrics
will be highlighted in this chapter.
WE’VE FOUND OUR VOICE (based on Nina Simone, Ain’t Got No – I got life) –
lyrics Bruce Sherfield
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  497

Ain’t got no cords, Ain’t got no smell Got my eyes, got my nose
My brain and tongue, Don’t talk too well Got my mouth,
Ain’t got no gulp, and that’s hard to swallow I got my smile
Can’t have a meal, Without a fight
I ain’t got no choice Got my mouth, got my tongue
And my teeth to make the sounds
I can show you my burns, I can show you my pain Kept my accent, changed my breath
It left me scars, I’m not ashamed I got control
It took my strength, It took my bounce I’ve got poise
It left me lonely, silent and without
Any words, only noise I got my poems, I got my friends
Got my songs, got my limbs
Hey, what have I got? Got my heart, got my soul
Why am I alive, anyway? Got my pride,
Yeah, what have I got I’ve got my voice
Nobody can take it away?
Hey, what have they got?
Got my hair, got my head I say again What have they got?…
Got my brains, got my ears Yeah what have they got?
We’ve found our voice, Yeah!
Link video: https://www.facebook.com/ShoutatCancerUK/videos/weve-found-our-voice/2223497347933349/

The lyrics cover multiple themes that came out of the workshops: the difficulties with
meals, the change in the swallowing process, the inability to talk when having food passing
the oesophagus, the changes in anatomy and the difficulties in finding the control. Further
themes explored included the visible markings: the scars and hole in the front of the neck
(i.e. the “stoma”) following the surgery and radiotherapy and the impact of this disfigure-
ment on self-esteem and the negative perceptions of others. The feelings of isolation and
the need for social interaction are part of the search to normalise behaviours and restore the
quality of life. The appreciation of the small things and the finding of a new balance is a
celebration of their courage and perseverance (Figure 41.3).
The songs and poetry made them realise their new responsibility to empower and inspire
others in the scattered and small laryngectomy community. Furthermore, these survivors
are demanding more attention in society, increased medical research focussed not only on
technical aspects of treatment and survival rates but also on how patients recover and in-
tegrate into society and the world. It seems clear that they felt this programme gave them
confidence and a stronger voice than before. It seemed an obvious choice to use this song by
Nina Simone to help express these thoughts as the song scans in a way that facilitates altering
the lyrics without losing the powerful uplifting and joyous climax of this inspiring work.
What the Snore?

Wife: “I confess, I miss that laugh and the way
it would soar, And I know the sound of my
name won’t be the same… as before… but
I’m so glad, he doesn’t snore anymore.”
PWL: “She’s so glad, I don’t (snore) anymore.
She says goodnight and I don’t become a
bore. I don’t have to sleep next to the door.”
Wife: “NO!” I said: “you go sleep NEXT
door!”
PWL: “Remember that time you slept in the
bathtub?? You looked So funny just trying
to ignore.”
Wife: “I had a neck that wouldn’t work for
a week, all stiff and sore! Curled up by the
sink, my shoulder against the cold tile floor.
I’m so glad, he doesn’t snore anymore!”
PWL: “She’s so glad, I don’t snore anymore.

PWL: “Sorry dear, How many hours do you You know, We have a good life, a long life of
sleep now?” course, not knowing what the future may
hold in store, but one good thing that has
come from all this is...”
498  Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides

Figure 41.3  Laryngectomy Stoma.

Wife: “Oh, thankfully many more than four, Wife: “I’m so glad, he doesn’t snore anymore!”
I’m so glad, he doesn’t snore anymore”
PWL: “And you know what?
PWL: “She’s so glad, I don’t (snore) anymore!
She sleeps so well, Now She’s the one that I
Wife: “While other things in life, admittedly, hear snore!!”
have become the routine of daily chore, there
is no need for pillows to cover my ears, as
before.”

Alan Pug
I’ll never face the water again a tricycle, unable to stop
Unthinkable… A fence…My first vivid memory.
My face in the water Skinned knees and tears
To float on my back My 6 year old brother picks me up, shows me
To push myself beyond my self the brakes, and I do it again…
To breathe until I can’t Fast forward 41 years, laryngeal carcinoma,
another fence…
With my blood racing in the
But It’ll be ok…The deed is done
cold pool—my heart about to burst
All moments become precious.
A sport I was good at to never do again?
A joke with the kids, a beautiful sunset
The word ‘never’
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  499

Drips into my eyes Or my first love: two wheels and an engine,

Me, a little boy Touching 60 down a leafy Hampshire lane,
Summertime, and friends The wind whistles into my stoma – like a
but with time and determination Turbocharger –
My memories of childhood Thanks, big brother,
I thought I had drowned, then found it again. but when it comes to life
How wrong was I – I swim Now there’s no stopping me!
I ride
Spyros Ian
Pressing down on a button and My grandkids running through my legs
pushing air through my mouth, Running over hurdles
I am a joy-making instrument Or running into trouble,
How wrong was I either way: they run to me for advice
I make music I support.
Andrew Peter
Years of sitting in school, How wrong was I to doubt what I could do
Living and learning, again, or be
Updating and refreshing, I didn’t quit.
Keeping my mind I speak, I build, I write, I teach
and body limber I am ME
I tutor.

Each personal testimonial was accompanied with drums and piano. Minor keys and sub-
tle, searching and uncertain rhythms using a brush on the drum were used to express the
initial anxiety and worries. It was followed by a sudden change to a major key combined
with ringing cymbals and ascertain drum kicks, like a revelation, when each person ended
their poem expressing what they still can do (against expectations). The crowd responded
with applause in between each testimony.

Can you hear my voice? One thing is

Sara Bowden- Evans Is that I’m still here
With opinions you can be sure
Can you hear my voice?
Equally as important
It’s there for all to hear
As they ever were before
It may not be a usual one
They may not come across the same
Not always very clear
Intonation isn’t always good
Some days it’s hardly there at all
But I ask for you to listen, please
But frustrating as it may,
In a way I can be understood
I have to persevere, you see
As I have something to say So here’s the thing, I know
I look and sound a different way
It’s gone
But I am still me, be patient, please
The box, the vocal cords
As I’ll always have something to say
They took it all away
So if I’m in mid-sentence
But can you shut me up?
And I stop, it’s not by choice
Well, no!
So I’ll ask you again, in a different way
As I have something to say
Can you hear my voice?
500  Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides
Bill Brummel’s (Film Producer) Reflection on the Power of Plural
Creativity
Early in the film’s production process, it became clear to me that the choir’s crea-
tive endeavours were vital to individual members’ emotional healing. A laryngec-
tomy is a life-altering surgery that can drastically change the way a person looks,
breathes, eats, and communicates. Those who’ve had the surgery can easily lose self-­
confidence and retreat from society – withdrawing into a world where they don’t
have to speak, eat, or be seen in public. For the choir members, writing poetry and
altering song lyrics, whether to express loss or describe their ordeals, was therapy.
Performing these verses was cleansing, helping liberate them from grief. The arc of
a Shout at Cancer concert reflects the emotional journey that many laryngectomy
patients experience – from initial anguish and self-doubt to the slow realization
that life can still hold many joys, passions, and adventures. But through music and
poetry, it’s done in an engaging fashion that is instantly assuring to new patients and
approachable to a general audience. The film is crafted in a similar fashion. The art-
istry is the vehicle transporting us to the layered personal stories of a few members
of the choir. But we don’t get there without the music. The poetry and songs are
like characters in the film. One of the tunes Ain’t Got No, became a lead character. I
borrowed the title of Sara Bowden-Evans lovely poem as the title of the film, “Can
You Hear My Voice?”.

It’s gone, the vocal cords

they took it all away.
But can you shut me up?
Well, no, as I have something to say.
Yes, Shout at Cancer choir, we can hear your voices…

The film “Can You Hear My Voice?” was shown at international film festivals Key West,
DocUtah, Three Rivers, Twin Cities, Heartland International and Nashville Film Festival
where it won the audience award. The concert or film was covered on National British
(BBC) and Australian (Nine) television, and on the BBC World Service and NPR radio.
Therefore, this project has largely contributed to the representation of the laryngectomy
community in society and potentially in the provision of public education.

How They Felt to Be on Stage

We asked the group to reply shortly or with keywords to how it felt to be on stage.

Keywords
Elevated Adrenaline Humble Empowered

Achievement Joy Dynamic Humble

Self-worth: I have Alive Confident I joined the choir to give
meaning something back
in control! they are in touch with and frightening to make anticipating
listening?!! (but responsible for a wrong sound at some embarrassment at the
controlled by my the laryngectomy a wrong time or crowd reaction. Why are
voice: what if it community no make a sound they cheering and clapping
goes?) when needed and giving us standing
ovations?
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  501
“Singing and expressing ourselves after having our voice boxes removed, it is a liberation.
We are achieving the unthinkable.”
“We have no soloists in our choir with our unique and imperfect sound. Our voices blend
and they tell our story. We have an inspiring message: Where I am now, I couldn’t have
done it by myself.”
“We cannot all be doctors or healthcare professionals, but we offer a representation to the
best of our abilities in the hope that someone in the dark of the audience will learn, grow
and be inspired from this experience.”
“We are inspiring ourselves by the work and effort required to perform as well as inspir-
ing other laryngectomees.”
“We are letting the world of research and medical and paramedical practitioners know
that there is more work to be done. We want others to have the best treatment possible and
we have to push the boat out!”
“We are changing the culture and expectations of laryngectomees who have often been
seen simply as patients passively suffering the consequences of disfiguring surgery.” “We are
inviting everyone to think laterally and explore new ways and approaches to the holistic
patient experience.” “We have a responsibility. Our voices are stronger than before, thanks
to the ears invited to listen and the efforts in the Shout at Cancer choir.”

What Did We Learn from This Project?

During the workshops it was made clear that the use of poetry allows everyone to talk about
them and encourages sharing ideas and feelings (Foster and Freeman). One might argue
that poetry is not an attractive medium being complex in its use of language; for example,
research suggests that nine in every ten Americans don’t possess the basic health-literacy
skills (National Centre for Education Statistics, 2003). The language used to explain the
procedure and impact of treatment affecting the voice might, therefore, be seen as already
too difficult to be understood (Wong et al., 2017). We made sure, however, to select short
poems, representing the lived experiences from our participants, without the use of chal-
lenging language. This combined with carefully selected music and displaying video re-
cordings made it easier to digest and appreciate.
Attending group meetings shortly after the laryngectomy operation helps laryngectomees
to regain confidence and attending these meetings with others who have more experience
helps regain confidence and learn from the experiences of others. Carroll-Alfano suggests
that counselling and education may need to continue for years after the surgery because
of the trauma induced by the operation and sees a role for in-person and online support
groups. The workshops we have undertaken can become part of laryngectomy support club
meetings and can be conducted online, especially in the COVID-19 era. There is a need to
have an experienced workshop leader who has to be prepared and informed by a special-
ist in the field, and this requires time, organisation and financial support, all of which are
potential obstructions that could hold back similar initiatives in different locations and set-
ups. While face-to-face meetings are traditionally very successful, having online meetings
would however provide variety and give scope for a different level of engagement to the
way these meetings are generally held.
We always made sure to include the partners into the workshops, as the support by
family or peers is crucial (Penner, 2009) and the adaptation to this new role is sudden and
difficult and frequently not acknowledged in the medical process. The burden of care and
personal strain on carers is long-lasting (Meyer et al., 2015) and there is little known about
their perceptions (Bickford, 2018). The change in relationships with partners shifting to a
more complex supportive role is something that needs more recognition, more attention
502  Thomas Moors and Evangelos Himonides
and tailored preparation to help this important pillar in the patients’ well-being and care
(Dri et al., 2020).
Support however doesn’t only come from services and family. We need to take into
account stigma, attitudes and awareness and other environmental factors that impact on a
health condition (International Classification of Functioning (Bickford et al., 2018), and
we are hopeful that the amount of international media presence we have achieved with
this Shout at Cancer project has contributed to the general awareness of what can fairly be
described as a “Cinderella cancer.”

An Example of a Powerful Outcome of Plural Creativity and

Co-authorship
Through this creative outlet, our research participants became the performative protago-
nists to recite their own shared stories in musical synergy with a professional instrumental
group. This process conveyed the real possibility of living a productive and meaningful
life after a laryngectomy without sugar-coating the emotional and physical challenges to
be confronted. At the same time, participation helped to express difficult and infrequently
addressed themes. Carefully selected music helped to empower and integrate the Spoken
Word poetry based on the stories of the unfortunate individuals who have lost their voice
box.
The marketing materials, nomenclature, etc. described this work as follows:

Shout at Cancer created a stimulating and interactive environment for collaborative

artistic performance between cancer patients, their relatives and supporters and a pro-
fessional group of musicians and poets. The outcome is an empowering and educational
statement performed live by our laryngectomy participants: a beautiful expression of
inspiring resilience to adversity.

The opportunity to contribute to this important volume allowed us to critically reflect on

the underlying intersectionality of the plurality of the varied creativities involved in this
project. Participants and artists were invited to link their own creativity, self-­d iscovery,
self-realisation into a shared expression using different media (storytelling, music and po-
etry). Important to note is the central role of the participants with laryngectomy who are
not just taking part in the interactive exploration and its translation into a production,
but are performing as well. The immersion for everyone involved in a musical dynamic
interplay between trauma recovery, social reintegration, the collective creation of a per-
formance, the audience interaction and media presence is a celebration of a co-authored
representation of different voices. The outcome is faithful to their stories and generates dis-
cussion, further reflection (for participants and audiences) and a shared feeling of achieve-
ment and proud ownership.
The imperfection and the focus on inclusion challenge the traditional expectations of
musical creativity and highlight the benefits of building bridges between rehabilitation,
healthcare professionals, educators, artists and a potential wide variety of communities.

Questions for Consideration

1 If you were asked to design the next intervention for Shout at Cancer and the laryngec-
tomees, what plurality of creativities would you emphasise and why?
2 One of the most celebrated examples of music where the performers sing about their
own lives’ problems (i.e. not someone else’s) is that of the Blues. How important, in
 Voicing Plural Creative Experiences without a Voice  503
your opinion, is the notion of “ownership” in collaborative and transdisciplinary crea-
tive praxis?
3 How extensible, do you think, is the work presented herein, and how feasible would it
be to engage people from diverse neuro-developmental, health, cultural, educational
and socioeconomic backgrounds?
4 Are there communities, local to you, who are challenged in participating in music?
Would you be interested to engage with them in a project of plural creativity?

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42 In Between Transdisciplinary
Dialogue and Participatory Creativity
Group Improvisation in Secondary School
Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu

Group Improvisation as Transdisciplinary Musical Dialogue

Dialogue is conceived as a form of ethical engagement, framed on the aim of “advance
understanding and human wellbeing” (Kazepides, 2012, p. 915). From this perspective,
dialogue is understood as a form of interrelation, considering the difference emerged in dia-
logue as a generative ontological principle of engagement in responding to others (Higham,
2018). Meaning emerges through an open process of sharing ideas with others, or at a dis-
tance. Wegerif (2011, p. 181) suggests: “meanings are not universal but are situated within
dialogues”. This resulted in a process of identification where learners “identify with differ-
ent self-images at different times” (Wegerif, 2011, p. 184). Linked to dialogue, transdisci-
plinarity has its origin as an approach to the integration of knowledge, which seeks to blur
disciplinary atomization in order to address the integral understanding of real-world prob-
lems. Thus, the complexity of knowledge would be approached from a holistic perspective
as a general principle (Nicolescu, 2012), which would crystallize from an epistemological
perspective through the concept of intra-action (Barad, 2007). This establishes the intrinsic
relationship between matter and/or subjects, that is, doing and being are not separate ele-
ments, but emerge in the interactions themselves. The implications for a holistic conception
of knowledge, and thus, dialogue, are profound.
By focusing on the relational nature of dialogue, and on the syntactic properties of its
relationships (such as call and response, “mutual attunement”, speculation and exploration),
dialogue is inherently a form of improvisation: rooted in the disposition of openness to oth-
ers, responsive, emergent, unpredictable – and focused on process rather than (as) outcome.
Although music semantics represents a complex and ambiguous aspect, there are explicit
and implicit parallelism with music group improvisation, widely conceived as a form of mu-
sic dialogue where a series of multi-directional interactions take place between musicians
and the audience.

Group Improvisation in Secondary School

Group improvisation has been a constant practice throughout the history of music in a wide
range of contexts. Several authors have highlighted the lack of research studies on improvisa-
tion in secondary school (Larsson & Georgii-Hemming, 2019). Burnard and Dragovic (2015)
analysed group improvisation within the framework of collaborative creativity as a demo-
cratic and transformative social practice. In this sense, collaborative creativity deepens on the
distributed and multivoicedness perspective rather the individual one (Sawyer & DeZutter,
2009), and focused on the social interactions and environment. From this perspective emerge
the concept of group Flow (Sawyer, 2003), and the conception of collaborative creativity as
enhancing life experiences and well-being by empowerment and engagement (Burnard &
Dragovic, 2015). Lage-Gómez and Cremades-Andreu (2019) highlighted the perspective

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-48
506  Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu
of group improvisation as a dialogical practice framed in the music creative space, which is
determined by a series of interconnected aspects such as student participation, motivation,
positive emotions, class environment/well-being and group identity. Tress (2020) analyses
how students use their previous musical knowledge in musical improvisation and suggests the
incorporation and adaptation of the students’ background to group improvisation practices.
Hickey (2009) deepens the perspective of free improvisation as a differentiated didactic ap-
proach rooted on enabling students to be free thinkers through experimentation with sounds.
From the perspective developed in the study, and as suggested by Siljamäki and Kanel-
lopoulos (2020), group improvisation is conceived as a form of creative rupture, in search of
the voice of students, and based on the principles of dialogic theory. It allows a democratic
co-construction of meanings and shared musical experiences from musical experimentation in
symmetrical (peer-peer) and asymmetrical (student-teacher/parent) interactions ­(Littleton &
Mercer, 2013). From this perspective, group improvisation would become an emancipatory
practice that would promote its democratic perspective (Kanellopoulos, 2007).

Participatory Creativity in Music Education

Participation in education explores the student voice at the different phases of the learn-
ing design, process and outcomes, bringing an emancipatory and democratic perspective
(Kushner, 2010). Thus, as Freire indicates (2003), students undertake a process of self-­
discovery as creators and re-creators of reality through action and shared reflections.
The creative emergence in group improvisation through a process of music “interthinking”,
conceptualized as using talk as a collective intellectual process (Littleton & Mercer, 2013), cor-
responds with the redefinition of musical creativity from the first decade of the 21st century
onwards. From this perspective, musical creativity is conceived not just as a complex phenom-
enon in a cognitive and individual level (Feldman, Csikszentmihalyi & Gardner, 1994) but as
a kind of social and cultural practice that emerges in different forms (Burnard, 2012). Different
kinds of musical creativities have been identified from the dichotomy i­ndividual-collaborative
(Webster, 2002; Miell & Littleton, 2004), emphasizing different aspects from the social per-
spective: inclusion (Lapidaki et al., 2012), multiculturality (Saether, Mbye & Shayesteh, 2012),
empathy (Seddon, 2012) or participation (Clapp, 2016; Lage-Gómez & Cremades-Andreu,
2020). The plural, distributed and sociocultural approach to the study of creativities in music
education, emphasizing environmental aspects favouring creative thinking, has been shared
throughout the XIII Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium.
From the perspective of participatory creativity, creative processes in the classroom can
be given an innovative new focus through educational projects aimed at shared musical
creation, based on students’ active decision-making; the student commitment in a shared
goal; and the participation through enculturation, as a kind of musical background ex-
change (Lage-Gómez & Cremades-Andreu, 2020). In this sense, and from a socio-cultural
perspective (Glăveanu & Beghetto, 2021), participatory creativity would be determined by
a threefold perspective on participation related to teaching and learning processes in music
education. First, in relation to the group perspective, different levels of participation could
be established upon by the participants on all phases of a didactic project, based on demo-
cratic principles. Second, connected to the learning environment, the elements favour the
commitment of the group with the didactic project. Third, and in line with dialogic theory
applied from a multidimensional perspective to the field of music education, the intrinsic
and shared value between peers and teachers is established, defined as the confluence of the
different and varying perspectives which emerge in the classroom (Higham, 2016). Wegerif
(2013) refers to dialogical education as it is neither student-based nor teacher-based, but
dialogue-based. In sum, participatory creativity emerges from the link between the group
 Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity  507
involved and the didactic project developed. A transdisciplinary dialogical perspective on
group improvisation, and through the conceptual framework of participatory creativity is
proposed. In this sense, the research questions are as follows:

1 How the transdisciplinary dialogue has been emerged in the learning processes through
the didactic project in the group improvisation?
2 Which aspects characterize the participatory creativity in group improvisation?
3 Which aspects have characterized the dialogue in the group improvisation in the didac-
tic project Ruptures?

Methodology
From the epistemological principles of research implemented by educational professionals
(Cochran-Smith & Litle, 2009), the project has been carried out through a process in which
students, teachers, researchers, artists and expert professionals have been involved in  a
shared social space aimed at understanding and transforming our educational context. In
this sense, Biesta (2020) proposes a pragmatic approach, from the perspective developed in
the study, that integrate what Biesta (2020) has defined as the three distinctive purposes of
the research: explanation, understanding and emancipation.

Context and Participants

The study was carried out in a public secondary school in the city of Madrid (Spain), lo-
cated in a district with an average income of 25% below the average for the city of Madrid.
The project involved 49 students (31 women 63.3% and 18 men 36.7%), aged 16–17, in two
groups of first year of a high school.
Seven teachers from five departments participated in the study: one Music, one Philoso-
phy, one Language and Literature, two Biology and Geology, one Educational Psychology
and one Art. In addition, we have had the collaboration of six external professionals (a
professional dancer and teacher, a professional painter, a historian retired teacher, two social
workers who develop their professional work in the third sector and a professional soccer
player), two professionals from the audio-visual recording and a recording studio. All of
this, together with the participation of the Secondary School Parents Association and the
Secondary School Leadership Team. In addition, we have had the cooperation of a Senior
Centre and a Cultural Centre.

Instruments
The analysis of the project has been developed using qualitative and quantitative instru-
ments. The qualitative techniques have been the participant observation by the teachers,
noted in the class diaries and recorded on video. The non-participating observation has
been implemented by university researchers. Eight group interviews have been carried out
with participants, teachers and students. The quantitative instrument has been a question-
naire, elaborated ad hoc for the integration of the transdisciplinary dialogue in the project,
which meets the methodological requirements of validity and reliability. Content was vali-
dated through the technique of expert judgement, a process in which ideas and suggestions
made by six specialists close to the field of study of this research were considered. The
reliability or internal consistency of the questionnaire was measured through the analysis
of Cronbach’s alpha reliability coefficient, which yielded a value of 0.894, indicating a high
index of internal consistency in the answers given by the students to the questionnaire.
508  Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu
From the deductive framework of the Activity Theory in education (Greeno & Engeström,
2014), the activity system establishes the components and the framework of relationships that
take place in the didactic project. The subject would be the student immersed in the didactic
project (Ruptures), defined as the object. The relationship between the subject and the object
would be mediated by a series of instruments or tools, in this case, focused on transdisciplinary
integration from the axis of group improvisation, along with a series of rules derived from the
involvement, active participation and dialogue of the participants (teachers, external profession-
als and participants, families, researchers and audio-visual editing professionals), as well as the
division of labour, through the various roles assumed by the students and cooperative learning.
The quantitative data obtained from the statistical analysis of the questionnaires through
the SPSS software, the narrative analysis obtained from the interviews and the qualitative
analysis of the project sessions have been triangulated and inductively coded through the
Atlas.ti software (Friese, 2021).

Procedure: The Transdisciplinary Project Ruptures

The project addressed the topic ruptures from the scientific, humanistic, artistic and social
fields, and through the cross-cutting theme of gender equality, explicitly through the con-
tents addressed, and implicitly through the visibility by students of expert collaborators in
all areas of knowledge.
In the Spanish context the term rupture has guided part of the public discourses from a
political and social perspective. A revision and deepening of this term were proposed in
the form of participatory co-construction from a variety of fields and participants (teachers,
researchers, invited professionals and institutions). In this sense, a participatory approach to
rupture as a phenomenon that shapes our own existence has been delineated.
The design was carried out during the first term with the choice of the topic, contents,
scheduling, collaborators and organizational aspects, by the teaching team. Then it was
shared and agreed with students (see Table 42.1).

Table 42.1  A
 ctivities in the project
Subject Field Sessions Activities
Music 22 Group improvisation
Dance 22 Creating a choreography based on Ruptures in
collaboration with a professional dancer
Art Arts 22 Transforming the school spaces through art
Art installation
Art creation based on the work of the
collaborator painter
Biology and geology 10 Tectonic plates and ruptures in human
Science
evolution
Philosophy 4 Rupture as a concept in the history of
Philosophy
History 2 Woman in Franco’s dictatorship in
Humanistic
1 collaboration with a retired history teacher
Senior centre visit and women interviews
Spanish literature 22 Blog creation: http://viafracta.blogspot.com/
Social 1 Women in the gypsy culture. Conference
Social
1 Women as a football player. Conference
All together 4 Art-based performances where the content
Integration from the different fields were integrated and
presented
 Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity  509
The project started with a presentation and contextualization session (50 minutes) af-
ter which sessions with teachers, experts and outings in the different areas were held. It
ended with a series of final presentations, whose objective was to diffuse and integrate the
barriers of the disciplines through art. A summary of the didactic project, created by two
audio-visual professionals/participants, can be seen at the following link: http://ies.valde-
bernardo.madrid.educa.madrid.org/index.php?option=com_content
Group improvisation workshop developed during the third term of the year 2017/2018
along with 22 sessions. After selecting the paintings of the collaborator artist, we started
by associating different gestures with specific sonorities. In this line, we used different ges-
tures for: (1) what to play, (2) when to play, (3) how to play and (4) who is going to play.
Thus, the first two meetings were systematic, from the point of view of the work regarding
gestures and the specific sonority of the group. Later, we began the specific work with the
pictures and choreographies as the stimulus for improvisation. We based the learning pro-
cess on music experimentation with the instruments chosen by the students. In addition to
the voice, the instruments chosen by the students were keyboards, drums, Spanish guitars,
electric guitars, bass guitar, marimbas, xylophones and other small percussion instruments,
and technology through mobile applications.
Permission was requested from the centre’s Leadership Team. The students and their
families were informed of the project, providing their informed consent along with all
other participants.

Results
Below we present a series of findings which emerged from didactic practice and are sus-
tained in a theoretical framework within the conceptual, didactic and methodological level
of the themes that guided the research.

Transdisciplinary Dialogue in the Project through Group Improvisation

The codification and triangulation of the group interviews with students and teachers, as
well as the teacher diaries and didactic products, show the relationship established by the
students between the disciplines, blurring the borders between the different areas, which
has allowed the deepening and significance of the participatory learning processes by the
students during the didactic project, and crystallized in group improvisation:

One subject is then related to the others that you have just learned in the same project,
or for example with philosophy in music, philosophical contributions in improvisation,
you end up learning everything in everything.
(Student 1, group interview, June 30, 2018)

Through a multidimensional and participatory approach to the topic addressed, from the
perspective of teaching, learning and disciplinary content:

I can contribute to you through my artistic knowledge, I can contribute to you as a

choreographer, to you as a musician, and transmit a little creativity that each of the
disciplines has.
(Headmaster and art teacher, group interview, June 12)

The students have especially highlighted the innovative nature of the project, as well as
the possibility of integrating the different areas of knowledge, considered appropriate and
 510  Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu
Table 42.2  Descriptive statistics

N Mean Standard
Deviation

Item 1. Working from different subjects has helped me to 49 4.41 .674

better and more deeply understand the theme
Item 2. The project has allowed me to reflect on the 49 4.43 .612
rupture through various areas of knowledge
Item 3. The project has allowed me to broaden my previous 49 4.29 .913
conception of the concept of rupture
Item 4. I have related what we have seen from all subjects 49 4.24 .778
Working from different areas of knowledge has allowed me 49 4.49 .739
to integrate the different perspectives
Item 6. I found the way of working innovative 49 4.65 .631
We have created new things in almost every subject 49 4.20 .645
Item 8. The methodology in the subjects has been active 49 4.31 .871
and creative
Item 9. The areas worked on have been appropriate and 49 4.43 .577
interesting to me

Note 1= strongly disagree, 2= disagree, 3= neutral, 4= agree, 5= strongly agree

Table 42.3  S pearman’s correlation coefficient analysis

Item1 Item2 Item3 Item4 Item5 Item6 Item7 Item8

Item 2. The project has allowed me .572**

to reflect on the rupture through .000
various areas of knowledge
Item 3. The project has allowed .641** .582**
me to broaden my previous .000 .000
conception of the concept of
rupture
Item 4. I have related what we have .381** .398** .320*
seen from all subjects .007 .005 .025
Item 5. Working from different areas .455** .311* .207 .318*
of knowledge has allowed me to .001 .029 .154 .026
integrate the different perspectives
Item 6. I found the way of working .311* .309* .409** .279 .386**
innovative .029 .031 .004 .052 .006
Item 7. We have created new things .048 .086 .046 .270 .126 .318*
in almost every subject .746 .555 .753 .060 .389 .026
Item 8. The methodology in the .438** .451** .366** .441** .443** .266 .102
subjects has been active and .002 .001 .010 .002 .001 .065 .484
creative
Item 9. The areas worked on have .294* .156 .353* .129 .284* .430** .310* .328*
been appropriate and interesting .041 .285 .013 .377 .048 .002 .030 .021
to me

*p< .05, **p<.01.

interesting, which has allowed them to reflect on and go deeper into the subject studied, as
can be seen in the means of Table 42.2.
Moreover, an analysis of Spearman’s correlation coefficients (see Table 42.3) shows a
significant correlation between moderate and strong for helping to better understand topics
through various subjects (item 1) with reflection (item 2) and broaden (item 3) on the topic
that has allowed work from various areas.
 Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity  511
The reflection of the learning process in group improvisation has been produced in an
explicit and implicit way. In relation to art and Spanish literature, after the documentation
about the painter’s collaborating work, an interview was carried out in which, among other
questions, the process of creative routines in her work was discussed:

I wanted to ask you if this manual process that you do in all your works is what may be
breaking, as our project, with what is being seen.
(Student 4, joint session painter interview, June 14)

In relation to philosophy, the processes of group improvisation were analysed in regard

to the Habermasian perspective, which in turn was integrated with the perspective of the
processes of rupture in human evolution developed in the field of Biology:

What sustains this unrestrained participation is the critical sense, a constant criticism,
which once again clashes with deconstruction, which are the conditions of possibility
that make it possible to enter into dialogue with others, safe from the most limiting
alienations.
(Spanish literature teacher, integrating session, June 14)

In relation to the dance, the collaboration with a professional dancer has allowed us to es-
tablish integrating perspectives through the joint collaboration between the elaboration of
choreography and improvisation carried out.

the moment in which a half-prepared dance is coupled to a music that is being impro-
vised in the moment
(Student 1, group interview, June 30, 2018)

But since he knows the other area, and the other area will also know, he will create
something that will really be able to innovate
(Collaborating dancer, integrating session 2, June 14)

We have corroborated the procedural and declarative character of the knowledge achieved
by the students, supported by a high degree of motivation (M= 4.35, SD=0.597), as well
as the acquisition of initial expectations (M= 4.12, SD=0.754), a preference for continuing
to work in this way in the coming courses (M= 4.39, SD=0.953) and their degree of sat-
isfaction with the project (M= 4.49, SD=0.582). In sum, significant learning experiences
are achieved.
Triangulation of the analytical perspectives developed through the Atlas.ti software
suggests a connection between a series of factors in the development of the project, and
through the final result, such as learning processes and meaningful experience, motivation,
the transdisciplinary perspective adopted through the integration of the curriculum by
means of the collaboration of teachers, spaces, and roles of the students. All this has been an-
alysed through the learning process in the group improvisation, related and interconnected
explicitly and implicitly with the rest of the subjects. Thus, the students produced artistic
works based on the creative strategies (see Figure 42.1).
Transdisciplinary dialogue could be conceptualized in the project as a participatory rela-
tionship between the different areas, intrinsically connected through participatory creative
action that has diluted the object-subject dichotomy, in a way of participating in all possible
approaches to the phenomenon of rupture.
512  Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu

Figure 42.1  The didactic project from the Activity Theory perspective.

Emerging Dialogic Characteristics in Group Improvisation

Different levels of student’s participation were observed, depending on their musical abil-
ities, assuming their new role as musicians. The diverse voices of students and teachers
emerged in a heterogeneous way but have merged into a shared approach. In this sense,
the commitment as a participatory and creative form of musical communion, where every-
body’s contribution was fundamental, emerged during the learning process. The data anal-
ysis reveals how dialogue through music occurred from the following axes:

1 Free experimentation with instruments and voice

2 Explicit use of musical themes by students
3 Implicit use of musical elements from the student’s musical background and creations
4 Concrete suggestions by the teacher
5 General suggestions by the teacher

The evaluation of the dialogue and musical interaction has been based on the creation of
music through the following musical textures:

1 Accompanied melody (Homophony)

2 Polyphony
3 Monophony

All this has been produced through the implicit and explicit mediation of the paintings and
choreographies, together with the joint content addressed in the other areas. In sum, music
dialogue emerged in a participatory and multi-directional dimension.
 Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity  513
The students became significantly involved, expressed through the group flow during
the improvisation. Experiences that bring a group together and make the group feels as
one. At that moment they became musicians, with a very high degree of concentration,
with learning occurring intuitively, thereby transforming their relationship with the music.
Certainly, the sound experimentation permitted the construction of new musical, artistic
and attitudinal contents, which were different from those learned previously. We witnessed
the conception of a meaningful music experience for students.

In what sense do you consider that our musical language has broken? I think that on
an individual level everyone has been in a comfort zone, everyone was touching some-
thing they knew previously, but the union was what was not a comfort zone.
(Group interview, June 26, 2018)

In this way, a process of participative construction is revealed and is applied to group im-
provisation. Students have participated actively in the development of the process, a syn-
thesis of varied influences has been produced leading to the formation of the group’s own
sound, and it has formed a collective and cooperative process of identification.

Participatory Creativity in Group Improvisation

The analysis of the music products arising from the group improvisation can be character-
ized as follows: (1) the duration of the products evolved from two to five minutes during
the first lessons to up to half an hour for the final lessons; (2) the structure was determined
by the prior analysis of the paintings and choreographies, and following classic structures
ABA or AB. At the micro-level, the structure was determined by the concept of stress and
relax and leitmotiv; (3) melody, harmony and textures emerged intuitively from the balance
between the teacher proposals and the student background.
The analysis of the products leads us to the relationship between music, image, dance, and
all the content developed in the different areas. In this respect, it would prove very difficult
to find direct links. Nevertheless, it is evident that this had an impact on the evolution of the
improvisations, though from an implicit perspective and based on the cultural associations.
We can find a prior awareness of certain musical and audio-visual mechanisms which fit in
what we could define as a form of enculturation and identity. We refer to the avant-garde
elements from the second half of the 20th century; through sound atmospheres or elements
of randomness; rhythms typical of rock, jazz or the minimalism of soundtracks. All this is
done in an eclectic way, but, as I have already mentioned, identified by the students as their
own. An implicit tension occurred between the sound emerging from the gestures (close
to the typical aleatoric, serial or minimalist avant-garde music from the second half of the
20th century), and the musical background of the students (Pop and film music), which
emerged naturally throughout the creative processes. All of this evolved progressively in an
eclectic and fused manner, with the students identifying profoundly with the music created,
thereby shaping the musical identity of the group. We can establish four main categories of
music styles which evolved during the project: (a) aleatoric music emerging from gestures;
(b) Free Jazz resulting from the balance between teacher guidance and student performance;
(c) ­m inimalist music characteristic of soundtracks or film music from the students’ back-
ground; (d) Pop music characteristic of musical taste from students’ background.
In improvised music, product and process are consubstantial and developed on the
same temporal plane through a discursive model that defines the form and contents of the
product. In this sense, the video analysis of the improvised music reveals the participation
through enculturation. Students utilized their own musical and audio-visual background
514  Carlos Lage-Gómez and Roberto Cremades-Andreu
culture as starting point of the creative process. Then, through a gradual process an implicit
negotiation has been established through the improvisation process generating a shared
musical construction result for the group.

Summarizing the Main Dimensions of Participatory Creativity in

the Project
• The project design, based on a participatory approach where teachers, researchers, art-
ists, professionals from different fields and students shared and agreed the project.
• Student commitment through the identification with the project, with a high level of
motivation in the construction of meaningful learning experiences.
• The transdisciplinary dialogue developed through the different fields as a participatory
creative action where subject-object-outcome remain entangled. This is clearly evi-
denced in group improvisation, where product and process converge.
• The conception of group improvisation as a musical dialogue developed through a
shared and distributed value as the confluence of the different perspectives, from the
participant’s background, emerged into a shared one. In this sense, improvised music
reveals the development of a shared sound from a wide range of influences.

Discussion and Conclusions

Participatory creativity explores the various dimensions of classroom participation from
a socio-cultural perspective. In this sense, Activity Theory (Engeström, 1999) establishes
an appropriate framework for the analysis of participatory creativity, from the intrinsic
­“ intra-actions” (Barad, 2007) of the components of an Activity System, so that partici-
patory creativity is conceptualized from the intrinsic and balanced connection between
subject (students), object (didactic project) and outcome (group performance) as the charac-
teristic aspect for its conceptualization (Lage-Gómez & Cremades-Andreu, 2020).
Participatory creativity emerged in group improvisation as a form of transdisciplinary
dialogue through the following dimensions in the project: different student’s levels of par-
ticipation (subject), together with the professional’s participating (community) in the dif-
ferent stages of the project. This is in line with the dialogic theory (Wegerif, 2011), where
dialogue is conceived as a shared co-construction of meaning, as an ontological principle of
engagement in responding to others (Higham, 2018). At the same time, this corresponds to
the democratic and emancipatory perspective on learning (Kushner, 2010), where students
are creators and re-creators of reality (Freire, 2003).
The second dimension is related to the environmental aspects in the learning processes
that facilitate the achievement of the project outcomes and focused on student’s commit-
ment. In this sense, the study has shown a high level of significance in the students’ learn-
ing, which is related to the construction of meaningful experiences, and associated with the
variety of roles they have assumed, and linked to a high level of motivation and satisfaction.
The third dimension is determined through the transdisciplinar approach in the didactic
project. This corresponds to the concept of intra-action (Barad, 2007) applied to the frame-
work of this study, which allows us to link to the participatory creativity framework. In this
sense, the intra-action is shown between the components of the activity system in the study.
During the project, the learning processes occurred across the various areas, in a variety
of physical and temporal contexts, along with the collaboration of teachers, researchers,
professional experts and students. We corroborated a transdisciplinary approach in which
group improvisation has acted as a tool of curricular integration through musical dialogue,
in line with transdisciplinary approach proposed by Costantino (2018). We observed the
 Transdisciplinary Dialogue and Participatory Creativity  515
complexity in the approach to the topic addressed and its abstraction, blurring the bound-
aries between the various areas through multidimensional dialogue, and both explicit and
implicit from multiple perspectives enriching each other. Although the contents have been
articulated through the different areas in a first phase, they have been blurred in a second
phase with group improvisation as a transverse axis, and from a transdisciplinary perspec-
tive materialized in an artistic product that has synthesized in a holistic way the contents
approached through dialogue.
The fourth dimension of participation could be established from the analysis of group
improvisation itself. In this sense, a process of implicit and explicit negotiation within
the participants became evident through the performance, in an eclectic and intuitive ap-
proach. Meanings emerged from a multitude of influences from student (Tress, 2020) and
teacher culture. We have identified influences, from aleatoric, of the avant-garde music of
the second half of the 20th century, cinematographic Minimalism, Pop, Jazz, Rap, Elec-
tronic. Music expresses social identity and is a form of self-expression; in the audio-visual
narrative music also constitutes a characteristic of identity, through the creation of shared,
cultural universes. The influence of the results, partial and final, became evident as a moti-
vating factor, which favoured the identification of the student with their own music.
A balanced and connected relationship would be established from the perspective of
participatory creativity in group improvisation between the different dimensions involved
in the creative action. It might represent a differentiated approach to the phenomenon of
creativity in music education.

Questions for Further Discussion

1 How can we conceptualize the creative tensions in free improvisation from the frame-
work of participatory creativity?
2 How can we analyse the role of the body in group improvisation from the perspective
of participatory creativity?
3 What are the main challenges in teaching group improvisation from the perspective of
participatory creativity?
4 How can we assess participatory creativity in music education?

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43 Understanding the Terrain in
Creativities Research
Mapping an International Symposium in
Music Education
Asher Carlson, Jazmin Ghent, Brian Panetta,
Charles Patterson, and Clint Randles

Introduction
A concept map is a visual organizer used in teaching, research, and practice as a tool for
researchers in organizing ideas and making meaning. Concept mapping has been used by
researchers to generate hypotheses on route to developing theory in diverse disciplines
including health research (Burke et al., 2005) and science education (Novak, 1990). It has
been a cornerstone of experiential research for the better part of the past several decades
(Butler-Kisber & Poldma, 2010). Music education researchers and practitioners have made
use of concept maps to map components of the self-system (Elliott & Silverman, 2015),
explain creativity using a driving analogy (Randles, 2020), and map the existence of mul-
tiple creativities in music practice for music education (Burnard, 2012, 2013; Burnard &
Haddon, 2015), among many other things. The authors of this chapter were asked by the
last author to map the main topics of multiple sessions of an international music education
symposium that focused on creativities research.
The Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium XIII brought together researchers from
14 countries to a virtual conference launched from Tampa, FL, during the Spring 2021
semester. The event was a chance for many of the world’s top thinkers at the intersec-
tion of creativities and curriculum to gather and share their latest work during a time
of social i­solation—the COVID-19 pandemic. While held entirely online, the sympo-
sium was largely personal, intimate, and welcoming to the most international audience of
all prior Suncoast symposia. An opportunity to make meaning of the synthesis of such a
global gathering of researchers and scholars presented itself. We decided to engage in a co-­
autoethnography, our stories become texts to be interpreted. We chronicle the development
of our conceptual mapping of speakers and themes of Suncoast XIII, as a way of under-
standing where creativities research is currently and projecting where it might be headed
into the future. One might think of what we have done as a pathway of conceptual flight
for readers to follow (Figure 43.1).
This conceptual map was created by Jazmin Ghent, Brian Panetta, Asher Carlson, and
Charles Patterson for Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium XIII.

Introducing a Co-autoethnographic Tool for Knowledge Creating

(As Collective Knowing)
We utilized a double hermeneutic approach in this research (Ginev, 1998; Jensen, 2019).
Double hermeneutic approaches allow for concomitant production of meaning and
­meaning-making within the research process. The first four authors were all in their first
year of the PhD program in music education at the University of South Florida, shared

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-49
 518  Asher Carlson et al.

Figure 43.1  Conceptual mapping of the Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium XIII.
 Understanding the Terrain in Creativities Research  519
much of the same experiences, and were therefore keenly positioned to extrapolate mean-
ing from experiences with the potential to add to the literature based on their distilling and
conceptualizing the discourse over the four days of the symposium. The last author was in
a position to share with the first four authors how research can flow from reflection and the
action of thoughtful meaning-making in his role as their professor for a qualitative research
class that met during the semester that the symposium took place. Co-autoethnography
and our analysis allowed for all authors to live out their normal roles. We used our roles to
provide credibility for the results and implications of the study.
During our weekly meetings over the course of the semester, we discussed how autoeth-
nography is often used to help researchers process their experience in a way that invites
an open dialogue between readers and their lived experience by reading a handbook of
autoethnography in class ( Jones, Adams, & Ellis, 2016). The first four authors made up the
group of PhD students who tracked and mapped the line of flight taken by speakers (and the
discussions) across each day of the event. Their work was intended to be a takeaway from
the experience of the symposium for all attendees. The conceptual map was built from day
to day, from session to session, and progress was shared with attendees. This progress and
the reflection of the progress became a talking point for all of the authors as they explored
qualitative methods over the course of the semester.
We discussed topics such as reflexivity (Palaganas et al., 2017) and critical reflection
throughout the research process (Patton, 2015). As we presented our own work at the con-
ference, collected our notes on session topics and themes, shared our conceptual mapping
with symposium attendees, and later reflected on the process, the potential for a cumulative
end product to have some meaning and value to the greater community of researchers in-
terested in creativities research became apparent. Some of the attendees at the symposium
suggested that it somehow be made available for all to use and own. Many used social media
to spread a link to the model and it quickly made it around the world and back via various
channels of dissemination. At this time, it is important to hear some of the autoethnogra-
phies of authors of the conceptual model.

Context—What We Were Asked to Do (Charles)

Prior to the Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium XIII, my fellow students and I were
asked if we would be interested in providing aide during the symposium. Specifically, we
were asked to document the sessions of the conference in a meaningful way where the story
could be recalled and experienced by those who were or were not in attendance. Brian,
Asher, Jazmin, and myself accepted the request of our professor to create a finalized product
for view during and after the symposium.
Before the convocation of the symposium, the four PhD students and the four provoca-
teurs for the symposium met each other via Zoom to discuss what we should expect from
the itinerary of sessions during the symposium. We were each assigned to work specifically
with one provocateur. Each of us got to know our provocateur and documented their ses-
sions to the best of our abilities. During each of the provocateur’s sessions during the sym-
posium, four presenters delivered sessions on various topics, all relating to particular themes
or concepts. The provocateur followed the four sessions, spoke briefly about the overall
theme, and then offered questions for discussion where all present participated.
During each of the sessions, the assistants including myself took notes on the talking
points of the presenters and any questions or comments made by the audience. The other
assistants and I decided that we wanted to represent each of the sessions with visual im-
ages. We decided that each visual design would be different and relevant to the session’s
topic or theme. What was created was 16 different visual concept designs that showcased
520  Asher Carlson et al.
what was presented and discussed during each of the sessions. For some sessions, the
resulting visual images had a more linear design with a result or central outcome. For
others, the design was non-linear and more appropriately revolved around a central idea.
The design of the session directly related to our own mental framework on the topic
discussed.

Enactment—What Concept Maps Are Used for (Brian)

Concept maps serve as meaningful visualizations that illustrate relationships between con-
cepts and ideas through graphical elements, known as nodes and links (Islim, 2018, as cited
in Hartsell, 2021). In education, the utilization of concept maps can benefit learners when
teachers organize essential information in a captivating and purposeful way. Likewise,
teachers can gain valuable insight when students construct maps, illustrating their under-
standing of a particular concept. Because they are a visual representation of how individuals
think or understand a concept, it is to be expected that each individual will develop unique
interpretations when constructing or deciphering concept maps (Hartsell, 2021). In both
quantitative and qualitative research, they take the shape of graphical representations that
allow data to be displayed in a way that enhances the analysis and comprehension of find-
ings (Miles et al., 2014; Patton, 2015; Thorndike & Thorndike-Christ, 2010; Verdinelli &
Scagnoli, 2013).
Music education researchers have employed concept maps in various ways throughout
the literature. Though a comprehensive examination of frequency and function is not
practical within this section’s scope, we aim to feature studies demonstrative of application
in music education research. In a study examining preservice music teachers’ concep-
tions of teaching effectiveness, Butler (2001) had participants construct two sets of con-
cept maps comparing their understanding of “effective teaching” before and after leading
micro-teaching instruction. In this case, the participants’ active engagement in concept
mapping was a critical component of the study’s design and procedure. Perhaps more com-
mon would be the concept map emerging as a final product, functioning as a conceptual
model illuminating results, or promoting theories, frameworks, and discussion (Aguilar,
2011; Bond & Russell, 2021; Millican, 2017; Randles, 2020; van der Merwe, & Habron,
2015, 2019).
In the present study, the four PhD students were tasked with moderating each session and
generating concept maps to hopefully reveal common threads that connected presentations
and emerging themes throughout the symposium. Here, concept mapping was an essential
aspect both in the design and as a culminating product of the conference. Consistent with
other reports, the PhD students experienced initial uncertainty in deciding what to include
and how to design their first maps (Hartsell, 2021). The young researchers quickly began
mapping with increased confidence, intentionality, and creativity as each map inspired
all those that followed. The final product represents the unique interpretations of each
contributor.

Operationalization (Or Tweaking)—Getting Organized (Asher)

A wonderful and challenging aspect of our task was the number of presenters and therefore
unique ideas being shared at Suncoast XIII. In order to organize these ideas effectively, we
utilized the free version of a cloud-based graphic mapping tool (“MURAL”) that allowed
us to collaborate on our conceptual maps in real time. With so many concepts to transcribe,
it was vital that we find ways to organize our graphic representations as the symposium pro-
gressed. After some discussion, we chose to focus our organization on three levels: (1) the
 Understanding the Terrain in Creativities Research  521
concepts within presentations, (2) the grouping of similar presentations into multiple ses-
sions per day, and (3) the themes that arose during each full day of the conference.
As the conference began, the importance of formatting our concept map became quite
apparent. Each of us took a session each day with each session consisting of three to four
presentations and a concluding discussion led by a provocateur. With so many concepts
being shared in every presentation and session, having a predetermined structure greatly
assisted us in translating what was emerging in front of us into graphic representations.
Though the structure of the model had been agreed upon at the outset of the process,
the rectangular sections that we had assigned ourselves became canvases of sorts. In these
spaces, we created shapes and figures that would represent our individual mental processing
of the presenters’ ideas and ultimately the visualizations of the connections that we found
between those ideas. Because this was a shared document, each of us could see the concept
map update in real time, giving us insight into how our colleagues developed their concept
maps: some of us tried to write as many concepts as we could in real time during the pres-
entations while others took notes in a different application and began mapping concepts
during the discussions at the end of sessions. Some of us began our maps with shapes, col-
ours, and layouts while others began with words, organizing their layouts after every word
was placed. Similarly, while certain concept maps seemed to grow from a common concept
at the centre, others focused on the different ideas from each presentation, only converging
on a unifying idea as the final aspect of the conceptual map. In terms of organization, it
was intriguing to be able to view a representation of not only the conference but also the
creative processes of our fellow PhD students.
At the conclusion of Suncoast XIII, the four PhD students assembled to discuss themes
that emerged across days and, later, across the entire conference. While the presentations
that we witnessed were chosen to match the theme of the conference and were therefore
already connected in that way, it was encouraging to hear each person’s ideas and realize
the multidimensionality of our perceptions. Through this final discussion, we connected
our viewpoints and effectively translated our shared thoughts into keywords that served as
overarching ideas of the conference. While our graphic interpretations of the conference
sessions varied greatly, we found a sense of ease when our concepts converged for this final
stage of our graphic representational process. Where we had begun the project together,
laying the groundwork for our conference experiences, we returned to that point and con-
ceptualized a creatively unifying conclusion to this entire process.

Lessons—What We Learned Along the Way (Jazmin)

There were many variables within the Suncoast XIII that challenged us to stretch beyond
our comfort zones. We learned that no matter what your contribution to the field of music
education and music education research, there is a common thread or desire that binds us
all. There were various research presentations that spanned a wide range of topics. Sun-
coast XIII covered diverse creativities including music production, technologies, gratitude,
cultural inclusivity, and spirituality. It was our responsibility as PhD students to recognize
and identify the common threads that helped tell the metanarrative of the symposium. To
prepare, we assumed that our biggest challenge would be finding ways to connect the vastly
different presentations. Surprisingly we learned that there were numerous common links
that allowed us to easily bridge together the many commonalities.
A factor that seemed most challenging, one of the things that seem to set apart the
Suncoast Music Education Research Symposium XIII from among similar interna-
tional symposiums of its size is the diversity of topics presented. A broad range of initi-
atives, ideas, and research around diverse learning environments created a safe space of
522  Asher Carlson et al.
inclusivity. It did not matter if we were full professors or undergraduate students, our
voice mattered in the discussions. We realized how the symposium organizers consist-
ently work to create a safe space or platform for everyone to feel included. Researchers
from all over the world provided diversity, and the presentations represented the initia-
tives, ideas, and learning environments that are moving music education forward. It was
exciting to be a part of.
As first-year doctoral students we discovered that our task at the symposium provided
access to a canvas, the presenters were the paint brush, and the research/presentations were
the paint. We were responsible for interpreting and organizing the paint strokes to form a
cohesive work of art. The process was rewarding in the moment and is a point of pride now
when we reflect on the experience. It seems that concept mapping is a necessary compo-
nent of the process, the journey of making sense of the diverse landscape that is creativities
research. Reviews of literature are valuable ways to organize and make meaning out of the
discourse in and around topics in music education research (Panetta, 2021; Randles, 2012).
Concept mapping is another that serves a valuable role in moving the discourse in diverse
areas of study into new and compelling areas.

Learning to Fly (Clint)

To be a successful asker of questions, collector of data, and interpreter of results for mu-
sic educators of diverse variety, one must be a good reader and distiller of information.
Intuition, curiosity, and hard work dance together and the result is sometimes the cre-
ation of new knowledge. It is more complex than that, but I hope that you know what
I mean. I am fortunate to work with talented and dedicated students year after year in
my position in higher music education. The four PhD students that you heard from in
this chapter learned the value of taking good notes and listening across presentations at a
symposium to capture a glimpse of the meta-narrative. Seeing the grand story helps them
know where they themselves would like to ask questions and exercise their influence on
their field.
The process of knowing research, being a research, and doing research that is of the
highest quality involves a dynamic process of zooming in and zooming out, seeing the big
picture and then zooming in with precision to ask questions that should be asked at any
given time. There are no shortcuts to being and becoming a researcher. It is first a task that
is propelled forward by hard work and dedication. You have to learn the discourse around
the topics that interest you before you can understand where to ask questions yourself. I
always tell my students to have their own agenda as they take their PhD classes. They study
a wide variety of topics in psychology, philosophy, history, and culture in music education.
Knowing what to study comes from knowing who they are first as individuals, musicians,
and teachers. That is where knowledge of the discourse around topics becomes massively
important.
The four PhD students who created this conceptual model had an opportunity to become
intricately connected to the literature in creativities research in music education. While
not all of them will do research that involves an aspect along a spectrum of creativities or
a particular combination of type of creativities (for example, how collaborative creativity
plays out in digital environments where digital forms of authoring (i.e. particular forms
of digital creativity or sound engineering creativity) manifests/features/arises. The PhD
students had an opportunity to survey a global representation of the discourse and see how
diverse researchers utilized various lenses for doing their work. It is a logical and fairly
straightforward task to transfer this procedural knowledge to doing research in other areas
of the discourse. It is my privilege and joy to help them find these areas at the intersection
 Understanding the Terrain in Creativities Research  523
of who they are and want to become and the world of new knowledge generation. Creating
an intricate map of what happened at this particular point in time helped them grow as
researchers. It was a joy for me to witness.

Using the Map

We have shared our experiences of creating a concept map of Suncoast XIII for this com-
panion to creativities research in music education. Our co-autoethnography utilized a dou-
ble hermeneutic approach (Ginev, 1998; Jensen, 2019) to allow for concomitant production
of meaning and meaning-making within the research process. The first four authors learned
about how new knowledge is created, while learning about the latest themes in creativities
research during Suncoast XIII, as they practiced creating new knowledge for the sympo-
sium and for this book. We hope that the map is useful and that the story of how it came
into being will help illuminate the use of conceptual maps in research inside and outside of
music education (Burke et al., 2005; Elliott & Silverman, 2015; Novak, 1990).
Conceptual mapping is important now and for the future of creativities research as it
demonstrates the complexity of what we study in ways that can be explored, hypothesized
about, and then systematically studied. Without good theory around the most important
aspects of creativities research, we run the risk of wasting time studying lesser important
and/or vital areas of research and practice to the detriment of our overarching goal of seeing
music teaching and learning thrive in school and community music settings now and well
into the future. To know where to go, we first need to know where we have been and what
the terrain looks like that we are now living in and through. The concept map and more
importantly the stories surrounding and underpinning it, and communicated through the
mapping, will help us move more confidently into the future.
As researchers, we all start somewhere. Like learning in diverse areas of life, we live
through stages of being a novice to being an expert. We experience illumination over a
period of time, letting more light into our lives as we process experience more completely.
We gain knowledge about the structure of the subjects that we study by mapping them. If
we can think of the process of doing good research as traveling in a car (Randles, 2020)
then we can begin to see how important it is to have a map of the terrain. To know where
we should go, we need to have a map of all of the possible places we could go. Without
a map, we waste time driving around aimlessly. Can you imagine getting on the London
Underground without a map? And actually, driving around aimlessly can help us realize
the value of having a map and knowing where we are going. We offer this chapter in the
spirit of map-making, of driving to destinations worth going, and of doing high-quality
and impactful research.

Questions for Consideration

1 In what ways does the conceptual mapping in this chapter reflect the diversity and
complexity of creativities research in music education?
2 Which important topics were not addressed and therefore not reflected in the concept
map?
3 What are some of the different strategies that the authors used to map and connect the
various sessions?
4 How might this conceptual model be useful (applied/mobilized/adapted) to future
generations of scholars/researchers?
5 How might you use a similar process to assist your class in authoring new knowledge
together—(i.e. collective creativity) creating and sharing new knowledge together?
524  Asher Carlson et al.
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Part 7

Widening Perspectives
New Departures and New Positionings

The final part of this Routledge Companion to Creativities in Music Education is devoted to
authors whose work seeks to widen the scope of our understanding of creativities in mu-
sic education. Chapters on project-based learning, student-centered curricula, faith, ser-
vice-learning, improvisation pedagogy, and creative climates all push the boundaries of our
collective work to understand the place of creativities in music education.
Webster takes on acts of creative music pedagogy in times of strife.
De Bruin explores pedagogies of difference and what that means for creative climates in
music classrooms.
Kladder scrutinizes project-based learning in music teacher education.
McElroy proposes a student-centric model for curriculum development.
Koops presents work on a service-learning project centered on student creativities at a
college in Los Angeles, California.
Lines discusses improvisation as a sustaining “middle ground” in the creative process.
Randles and Burnard end this part and volume with their ideas as to how the profession
should take the show on the road, moving these our work and discussions to the next level
of research and practice.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-50
526  Widening Perspectives
44 Instrumental Music Education
Intra-action and Relationality for Creative
Pedagogies in the Instrumental/Vocal Music Studio
Leon de Bruin

Introduction
The instrumental music lesson is a perhaps unique aspect of secondary schooling where a
student immerses into the performative, and educational world of the expert practitioner/
teacher, and where the teacher perceives the learning world of a sole student. Here is where
a unique instructional relationship is cultivated with each student, in what is a dynamic and
ever-evolving interpersonal relationship. This involves the merging of class content and
specified learning outcomes, but also relational and affective inter- and intra-active capac-
ities that align teacher’s direction with students’ actions, and the interpersonal behaviours
and connection between the student and the teacher. This, for many students, realises a
powerful and enduring learning relationship that supports not only the learning of music
but the development of character, well-being, and increased general academic capacities
(Guhn, Emerson & Gouzouasis, 2020).
This chapter considers interpersonal dimensions and theory regarding teacher-student
relations and considers aspects of relationality from the reflections of instrumental music
teachers and their creative pedagogies used to engage students. It identifies relational as-
pects of teacher practice that reflect pedagogical creativity in the teaching process, which
also nourishes the learning process. Positing an alternative framework of understanding,
pedagogy, and practice, which forefront the learning relationship and the creative process
possible in the instrumental music lesson, I guide how the relational, social, and emotional
interactivity provides energised platforms from which rich learning can emerge.

Learning Interactions in Instrumental Music

Instrumental music education offers learners the opportunity to develop cognitive, artistic,
and craft-based learning of music. Research in secondary school environments shows that
music teaching can be a powerful interactional learning device between teacher and student
that promotes effective learning based on connectivity via impactful learning relationships
(de Bruin, 2018a, b; Fischlin & Heble, 2004).
Within the music lesson studies have espoused how teachers use strategies such as scaffold-
ing (Woods, Bruner, & Ross, 1976), coaching (Schon, 1984), mentoring (Gaunt, Creech,
Long, & Hallam, 2012), and cognitive apprenticeship (de Bruin, 2019), and the crafted
pedagogical balance between play (de Bruin, 2019a) and technical and expressive issues
(Gaunt, 2010; Karlsson & Juslin, 2008; Laukka, 2004). Verbally prompted behaviour is a
significant contributor to student engagement (Young, Burwell, & Pickup, 2003), threaded
via feedback (Wiliam, 2011) that allows students to self-designate and construct regulative
aspects of their work (de Bruin, 2018c; Zimmerman, 2000).
Interpersonal teacher-student interactions within the music lesson are a dynamic and
essential aspect of connection, relationality, and deep learning. Within the instrumental

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-51
528  Leon de Bruin
music lesson, teachers are the conduit towards powerful, effective, and sustainable learn-
ing that promotes developmental, motivational, and aspirational learning with and be-
tween students. What can be described as a ‘personal chemistry’ (Purser, 2005, p. 292),
­teacher-student alignments and affinities, tensions, contradictions, and learning epiphanies
are at the core of how a teacher connects with a student. This implies that instrumental
music teacher’s work includes far beyond transmitting content knowledge and musical ex-
pertise, but rather the differentiation between different kinds of learning, including the so-
cial, relational, interdisciplinary, and affective interpersonal strategies that enhance lifelong
learning (de Bruin, 2019b; Pedder et al, 2005).
Dynamic systems theories suggest teacher-students’ relationships can be understood in
terms of the general interpretations that students and teachers attach to their interactions
with each other (Wentzel, 2005; Wubbels, Opdenakker, & Den Brok, 2012). Individual
interactions can be regarded as building blocks – patterns of interaction within a social
system (Hollenstein, 2015) that extend to include qualities of trust, intimacy, sharing, and
quality of communication developmentally experienced through mental representations
that evolve and relate to specific experiences (Laible & Thompson, 2007). The instrumental
music lesson is a site where student and teacher attempt to align each other’s minds (Bruner,
2009). As Barad suggests:

It is through specific agental intra-actions that the boundaries and properties of the
‘components’ of phenomena become determinate and that particular embodied con-
cepts become meaningful
(Barad, 2003, p. 815)

Understanding not just how knowledge and skill are transmitted but qualifying senses of sus-
tained affinity and confluence between teacher and student can reveal the affective promo-
tors and prevailers of sustained musical engagement and enriching learning climates. Such
learning climates are entangled within creative pedagogical encounters that co-­implicate
subjectivities, histories, and environments that in turn enhance student creativities.

Creativity in Education
Education systems still grapple with what creativity is, how to promote it, and how to as-
sess it (Cho et al., 2011; Harris, 2016). Guilford’s (1950) work viewed creativity in terms of
ability and functionality in problem-solving and creating innovative ways of thinking, and
this has spawned interest and expansive approaches to understanding creativity, particularly
in regard to education. Dellas and Gaier (1970) posit creativity as the ability to use imagi-
nation, insight, and intellect, feeling, and emotion in order to move an idea from a present
to an alternate, previously unexplored state. Rhodes’ (1961) four perspectives of creativity
refer to person, product, process, and press, which also involves place – the relationship
between humans and their environment.
Csikszentmihalyi’s (1996) systems model situates creativity as an interactive effect be-
tween individual and social motivations, tools, and actors, defining creativity based on
where it is (rather than what it is). Cho et al.’s (2011) creative talent model recognises
the environment schools and education systems use to approach creativity, asserting cur-
riculum, teaching, and evaluation as three creative traits. The 4C’s approach asserted by
Kaufman and Beghetto (2009) emphasises the pillars of critical thinking, communication,
collaboration, and creativity, placing ‘creative metacognition’ and contextual knowledge
used to make decisions about one’s own creative efforts and accomplishments at the fore-
front of creative impulse. Glăveanu’s (2013) Five A’s framework – actor, action, artefact,
 Instrumental Music Education  529
audience, affordances – proposes a dynamic approach to creativity relying on interdepend-
ence of these generalist traits. Randles (2020) posits an eidaimoniac perspective that urges
a spiritual essence as the font of creative action.
Harris and de Bruin (2018a–c) draw focus to the specifics of creative environments, crea-
tive relationships, and creative pedagogies beyond individual isometric constructs, and into
the realm of the relational and affective. This situates reasoning of creativities not as quan-
tified, stable, and measurable but as uniquely individual traits emergent from ones’ corpo-
reality, temporality, relationality, and spatiality of and in the creative environment. Whilst
each of these models highlights the significance of the need for a developmental trajectory
of creative competence of the ‘what’ of creative action, they remain limited in their scope
concerning the ‘how’ – the ways in which teachers model, scaffold, explore, articulate, re-
flect, engage in affective pro-affirming climates of learning and creative engagement. This
casts our critical gaze of the creative process towards the influence teachers as social and
cognitive provocateurs can play in illuminating learning interactions and environments.

Creative Pedagogies
Previously explored ‘creative teaching’ and ‘teaching for creativity’ have fed the notion of
‘creative pedagogies’. Burnard’s (2012, p. 246) significant thought towards enabling per-
formative and improvisational forms of musical creativities via pedagogy outlined several
key elements including critical reflection on emerging pedagogic practices, focus on class-
room discourse and student talk, teacher modelling of musical creativities that include
performance but also speculation, hypothesis without fear, and the development of ped-
agogic practices that invite and build musical creativities. Various studies have espoused
definitional terms of creative pedagogies (Cropley, 2001; Joubert, 2001; Lin, 2011, amongst
others) with a significant review conducted by Cremin and Chappell (2021), asserting that
creative pedagogies involve imaginative and innovative teaching strategies and arrange-
ments of curricula, generating and exploring ideas; encouraging autonomy and agency;
playfulness; problem-solving; risk-taking; co-constructing and collaborating; and teacher
creativity. Their findings implicated teacher practices across a range of subject domains that
encouraged autonomy, agency, exploration, and adventurousness that entrained the creative
process. Fundamental to a significant number of studies was the building and maintain-
ing of communication necessary for collaboration, feedback, rapport, and understanding
with students. The necessity of pro-active teacher-student relationships, where teaching
and learning occur through dialogue and reflection, was key.
This provides illuminating implications regarding what occurs in the instrumental music
lesson. Contrasting to a class of 25 where individual feedback is limited, the instrumental
music lesson situates the student learner with an adult expert practitioner in an environment
and relational dimension that relies on constant and ever-evolving dialogue, action, feed-
back, and reflection by student and teacher. Central to learning in instrumental music are
the activators of creative pedagogies and affective relationality that exists between teacher
and learner.
This forefronts consideration of the human and interpersonal relations and constructiv-
ist perspectives that shape learning and creativity (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996), and how they
may intra-act within student-teacher ecologies. In an educational learning context where
meaning is constructed between music teacher and music student, the awareness of creativ-
ity, novelty, and personal innovation is brought to bear in the learning process, where both
teacher and student are the constructors and arbiters of usefulness and value.
Identifying the way teachers connect student development with the acquiring of knowl-
edge and skill emphasises the importance pedagogical actions and relationships hold in
530  Leon de Bruin
promoting sustained student learning and engagement. To this end, teacher pedagogy sits at
the nexus between student’s and teacher’s receptivity and connectivity, reflecting creativities’
ontological emergence across individuals, environments, and ways of being in the world.

Research Approach
This study gathered qualitative data where participants responded to questions that sought
information about the pedagogies that they felt sustained connection, relationality, and
learning with students. Semi-structured interviews acted as a conduit for inquiry that fos-
tered flexibility and depth of response. Analysis of instrumental music teachers’ reflections
(n=30) of their dialogic, gestural, and strategic approaches to nurturing learning revealed
teachers ‘embedded and immersed in a world of objects and relationships, language and
culture, projects and concerns’ (Smith, Flowers, & Larkin, 2009, p. 21). Teachers’ responses
were analysed and synthesised into a social-relational schema outlined in the REIR Frame-
work of Pedagogy and Intra-Active Dynamics.

The REIR Framework

The construction of this schema, the REIR Framework of pedagogy and intra-active dynamics, is
reflective of the idea that creativity is emergent within a system and within a set of pivotal
interactions that are reliant on teacher and student interconnectivity, dialogue, and conflu-
ence. Built upon an interdependence of teacher and student, an important conceptual aspect
of the REIR pedagogical framework is the emphasis upon the ontology of creativity on
teacher-student connectivity. It provides a fine-grained approach and understanding to the
precursors, promotors, and prevailers of creative action and thought that occurs between
teacher and student. Complementing existing models this framework locates creativity
emerging within and across key actors and systemic features that promote interactivity be-
tween teacher, student, and content, as well as the relational, affective, and environmental
stimulus that illuminate learning. These factors contribute to creative emergence and expe-
rience via ways of expression, intra-action, and connection.
The REIR framework delineates a detailed description and analysis of creative action in
terms of affective experience. The outlining of aforementioned models described is impor-
tant to the understanding of creativity in a human educative context. Rather than a pre-
scriptive ‘model’ as such, this framework outlines aspects of teacher-student interpersonal
connection, behaviours, and actions that promote a positive learning climate, attending to
the multiplicity of creativities possible within music (Burnard, 2012). This framework looks
beyond general approaches to creativity in education that make generic ideas of critical
thinking, communication, creativity, and collaboration. The REIR framework recognises
the significance of such ideas but emphasises the situated emergence of creative thought and
action as a phenomenon nurtured and encouraged between teacher and student through
four significant pedagogical modes of engagement: recognition, empathy, insightfulness,
and responsiveness (Figure 44.1).
Thinking beyond hegemonic developmental conceptions of subject learning, this frame-
work reconceptualises participatory practices for teacher professional practice in instru-
mental music. As Burnard urges, ‘creativity to the musician extends deeply into the realm
of the sociology of music’ and how music is taught (2012, p. 213). Acknowledging d­ iverse
creativities as practice, the REIR framework catalyses thinking and action within the
instrumental music environment. This positioning forefronts the importance of teacher-­
student learning relations and our capacity to understand through observation and interac-
tion, thinking in/of/upon actions that promote a developing functional relationship. This
 Instrumental Music Education  531

Figure 44.1  REIR framework of pedagogy and intra-active dynamics.

allows the clarification of needs and wants in the meaning-making derived from dialogic
communication.
This framework identifies and qualifies creativities evident in diverse learning and teach-
ing moments. The studio music environment is very different to the standard classroom ar-
rangement, not only in the way a teacher can operate in a one-to-one or small group music
learning situation, but also in the ways in which students are engaged to think, reflect, and
respond musically as well as dialogically regarding their learning, their successes, but also
their immediate challenges and processes of overcoming them.
The music lesson is one in which student and teacher continually respond to each other’s
prompts, be they musical or verbal. Here lies the abundance of opportunity for creativi-
ties to flourish. Creativities exist in the relational, the processual, the iterative, as well as
the performative interactions between teacher and student that through action, and intra-­
actional dynamics bring learner and guide together.
The REIR framework supports the development and refinement of adaptive expertise,
a basis of creative actions and ‘what if ’ moments. Such teacher creativities represent the
antithesis of reductive procedural teacher’s work that occurs in the instrumental music
studio. More specifically, teacher’s adaptive expertise (Hatano & Inagaki, 1986; Schwartz
et al., 2005) exhibits a balance of efficiency with innovation, where mastery of procedures
is coupled with the capacity to question, modify, and invent ways of addressing complex
and non-routine problems. This contrasts with routine expertise, which focuses solely on
efficiency for dealing with interactions in which teachers have standardised or routinised
tasks and their reflexive responses in their work.
532  Leon de Bruin
Creativities in adaptive expertise reside across various components of a teacher’s practice
and discourse. A teacher’s cognitive flexibility, case sensitivity, and forward reasoning each
play a role in how they react and adjust to the student. This involves the consideration of
multiple hypotheses for interpreting a situation, the tailoring of behaviour to a particular
contextual feature, and relational adaptivity that considers nuanced information and the
propensity to revise, adjust, and improvise a better way forward.
Teacher adaptivity often begins with the first eye contact and greeting with a student. The
first few moments of interaction and eye contact can be the most formative to how the lesson
will progress across the duration. Aspects of diagnosis and response are at play from the be-
ginning to the end of lesson, as the teacher continually assesses, guides, prompts, and encour-
ages the student through pedagogical processes and strategies of modelling and scaffolding,
and coaching, as well as reflection on achievements completed and about to be attempted
(de Bruin, 2018c). This in turn ignites the students’ capacity for their own regulatory and
distributed creativities emergent in the interactive process (de Bruin, 2019b). This represents
a complex dynamic that evolves throughout the life of the student-teacher relationship.
The REIR framework fosters shared creation of knowledge about learning and teach-
ing through inquiry-based stimulus, engagement, and reflection (Eisner, 2005) in which
the role of the teacher is both critical and strategic. This proposed framework articulates
teacher’s understanding, reasoning, and action through creativity-promoting behaviours of
teacher practice, the classroom environment and climate, the stimulus the teacher applies,
the intra-actions, and the affective dialogue that propels learning. It emphasises the nature
of teacher-student synergy that promotes learning through communication and relational-
ity in the music lesson.

REIR Educational Example – Recognition

The music teacher uses intuitive perception to recognise and identify need for a specific
connection and attentiveness to each student. Understanding specific traits and capacities
of each student, creativities lie within the improvised yet calibrated approaches that bring
thinking together and that impact each student personally.
Rather than generic approaches, teachers draw from extensive repertoires of past experi-
ences on which to respond constructively to problems faced in the music studio/classroom.
Teachers enact their creative agency through thinking and actions manifest in the realisation,
awareness, acceptance, and understanding required at given situations within the lesson. As a
creative practice, teachers cultivate senses of awareness and perception and capacity to modify
practice, their reflection in action and reflecting on their experiences (Schon, 1984).
Whether this is manifested in the teaching of sound to symbol, or sophisticated nuances
of musical expression, the recognition of student needs is dependent on bringing to con-
sciousness and examining assumptions and values behind the actions as teachers. Teaching
that adeptly recognises students’ needs, concerns, expectations, and apprehensions provides
students with opportunities to consider and articulate carefully their strengths, weaknesses,
and preferences that they bring to learning tasks and settings. Recognition further prompts
critical, creative thinking about the next steps they can take in their teaching and ways in
which they can improve.
Teacher recognition, awareness, and apperception of learner needs can foster students’
engagement with novel challenges in new contexts, critically evaluating themselves as
learners. Teacher attentiveness and promotion of the strategies students employ, the social
contexts in which they are asked and challenged to develop, and the resources they use are
just as much a focus for the direction and impetus of teacher’s direction as the substantive
content and objectives of students’ learning.
 Instrumental Music Education  533
REIR Educational Example – Empathy
To empathise requires recognition, understanding, positioning, and evaluating of how we
may act and respond in comprehending student mindsets. Empathy captures the reflexivity
of individuals as they connect awareness and the evaluation of what is required to facilitate
student receptiveness. The interpersonal reaction of empathy is ‘an affective response that
stems from the apprehension or comprehension of another’s emotional state or condition’
(Eisenberg & Liew, 2009, p. 316). Empathic teaching illuminates student’s emotion, mo-
tivation, and achievement (Zeyer, 2010), and requires the dialogic unveiling of feelings
towards the learning situation. Empathy relies on the teacher and student to stop and es-
tablish what the problem is and elaborate on the difficulty sensed. This relates to sensitive
micro-moment caring, a cognitive empathy (Hoffman, 2000) that is more than sympathetic
concern, and more than a mere contagion of affect requiring understanding of the source
of the vicariously induced emotion.
Sensating empathy towards learners plays a role in the degree to which they may react.
Empathy is thus an agitant of openness, disclosure, and affiliation towards the learning
moment, a prosocial behaviour that fosters helping and receiving help, positive personalisa-
tion with students, and a shared understanding of others’ needs, feelings, and perspectives.
Eisenberg and Liew (2009) suggest empathic tendencies between teachers and students can
promote autonomic responding to each other’s joyful expressions – an entrainment of cre-
ative action, a reaction and interaction that is free of fear or apprehension and conducive to
creative and collaborative goal attainment (Battistich et al., 1997).

REIR Educational Example – Insightfulness

Insightfulness allows the teacher to look inside the student’s experience to find some-
thing what others may not see and respond in a positive manner. Insightful approaches
help construe value in learning practices, in emergent creativities that consider learner
perspectives and attributes. It establishes an ethic of understanding and can guide stu-
dents into a culture of adopting critical stances towards the process and methods of stu-
dents’ own self-evaluation. Insightfulness to new challenges apprentices student thinking
and learning by initiating thought and action towards creativity and students’ creative
processes.
A teacher’s insightfulness can further promote educational atmospheres between students
and teachers that make learning come alive, and that illuminate positive actions. Through
instructional strategies such as differentiation, teacher’s insight can promote and emphasise
students’ interaction within the learning sphere, cultivating drive, aspiration, and passion
within the students themselves at their level of understanding (Huda et al., 2016). This kind
of receptiveness and reciprocity can allow all learners to grow, perceive, discern, and de-
velop thinking skills, emphasising not just knowledge but growth and maturity in students
evolving creative practices (Halstead, 2004).
Insightfulness in action – such as modelling a particular phrase, technique, or expres-
sion point – can reveal creative process, and how that process is not linear but a cyclical,
iterative one requiring procedural stages (Robinson & Aronica, 2015). Insightful teacher
action situates the teacher not just as one possessing expert knowledge, but one who also
has the wisdom and wherewithal to bestow this knowledge in impactful ways (Ardelt,
2004). A teacher’s insightfulness underlines that both ethical and technical aspects of peda-
gogy should be well organised in thought, feeling, and action (Hargreaves, 2005). This has
the potential to lead to genuine education of students involving their own self-reflection,
self-motivation, and willingness to be responsible for their own decisions.
534  Leon de Bruin
REIR Educational Example – Responsiveness
Responsiveness refers to the quality and timeliness with which the teacher recognises, un-
derstands, evaluates, and directs actions and attention towards positive change. Acclaim-
ing students’ ‘a-ha’ moments asserts value to creative process and product, but teachers’
­responsiveness – to problems, epiphanies, problem-solving, and problem finding – can
establish both a learning and emotional climate to the lesson, in the way teachers’ commu-
nicative initiations can scaffold, model, articulate, and promote development and reflection
on skills.
Responsiveness resides in the one-on-one encounters between teachers and students –
the way teachers are attentive to students in distinctive ways that bridge learning actions
and goals, and that cultivate creative dispositions. Woods et al.’s (1976) understanding of
responsiveness as a local interactional mediation through scaffolded approaches outlines
how responsiveness is responsibility in the most practical sense, and an essential process of
teaching. Responsiveness sets a tone and climate in the music studio that allows teacher and
student to operate with some degree of certainty of what may happen in the lesson – yet
adaptively able to improvise within the moment-to-moment aspects of learning. As such,
responsiveness is a dynamic and dyadic relationship between teacher and student, spanning
a wide range of teaching activity not just of technical teaching and learning implications,
but of transforming teaching as a human and moral endeavour.
Responsiveness relates to the wisdom teachers support and encourage, reassure in one
moment and yet challenge in the next. Responding in wonderment, curiosity, expectation
to students’ creative actions sets up a creative environment and culture of creativity in the
music lesson. This requires thought to creativity-integrated activity that considers exper-
imentation, collaborative negotiation, and a responsiveness that is opportunist in creative
nature. It incorporates thought to how technologies and parental involvement beyond the
studio lesson may be an intertwined and embedded aspect of strategy and approach. It re-
quires consideration of asking the right questions at the right time – is this the most propi-
tious moment? Do I build on strengths or build emerging capacities? Embedded within this
are the self-questioning and reflective aspects of responsiveness, of making self-judgements
as to how one might do it better. Teachers can respond to students in many different ways,
maintaining or redirecting flow or direction on a certain learning concept.
Responsiveness provides an evaluative aspect of student’s work, looking at creativity
through critique or understandings about how a field of knowledge operates (Butler, 2001).
Responsiveness is reciprocal in the way teachers and students manage their interactions
and over time build and maintain mutual understanding and a knowing of each other’s
minds (Bruner, 1996). In so doing responsiveness moves towards a synthesis of both crea-
tive process and product residing in both the social and cognitive spheres of teacher-student
relations.
Together, recognition, empathy, insightfulness, and responsiveness outline the (REIR)
framework that places a relational perspective to how teachers can pedagogically engage
learners in a creative process – one where teachers craft interaction, activity, and expertise,
as well as activating and illuminating student’s possibility. This framework incorporates
both evaluating (the functions of judging value, receptivity, and appropriateness of re-
sponse), observing and appreciating of the social, affective, and aesthetic affordances of
these actions. The REIR framework is valuable as a conceptual lens that can be used by
teachers to understand the origin, emergence, context, and framing of teacher-student in-
teraction and understanding. This framework brings elements of cognition, sociality, and
humanity together in a way that speaks both to the agentic action of teaching and to better
communicating and understanding the subjects of our attention.
 Instrumental Music Education  535
Conclusion
Imagining a music pedagogy that incorporates multiple forms, and where teacher and stu-
dent creativity is emergent from outside-in and inside-out can promote a pedagogical revo-
lution. Examining teacher practice through the lens of the REIR Framework of pedagogy and
intra-active dynamics provides a mindful probing and reflection of teaching, and the ongoing
negotiation of meaning between teachers and students that can clarify, focus, and help
generate positive behavioural action and response that occurs in the music lesson. Just as
thinking about pedagogy incorporates links between local and global communities, so too
does thinking about reframing and reconsideration of micro-interactions break the bound-
aries of conventional practices. Communicative capacities of perceptivity, reciprocity, and
reflexivity bring new, authentic, and practical music studio actions into focus. Rather than
providing a ‘crisis blueprint’ for teacher creative practice, it can be argued that the emergent
qualities of the framework should be conceived within the very core strategies and founda-
tional approaches with which the instrumental music teacher goes about operationalising
teaching and learning in their classroom or studio.
The REIR framework enlightens education, and music education specifically, to the
mechanisms relating to interpersonal relationships and the capacity of teacher-led behav-
iours that spark students’ creative engagement and attitudes to learning. Teaching is a process
of continuous review and self-correction (Dalin & Rust, 1996), and the REIR framework
recalibrates approaches to behaviour that shapes pedagogy, development of knowledge.
and practices in the music studio. The REIR framework encourages teachers to value the
significance effective interpersonal behaviours do to help shape creative engagement, cu-
riosity, and inquisitiveness in and through musical activities. It promotes a new plateau of
educator skills beyond knowing, showing, and doing, expanding the craft of teaching in
more nuanced approaches that shape dynamics within a lesson and across a sequence of les-
sons to make learning more engaging and exciting. In understanding musical/educational
creativities, Burnard (2012, p. 218) draws a Bourdieuian sense of ‘a “feel for the game”, a
practical sense’ (sens practique) that allows agents to act and react in specific situations in a
manner that is not always calculated”. The REIR framework further challenges teachers
to further discover and refine the essence of enlightened, creative teaching, where teachers’
musical creativities draw out those of the student.
Reconceptualising/ re/imagining our classroom climate (and its intra-sociality) with
this conceptual resource of affect and relationality can expand the spatial boundaries of
creativities in our classroom. Sennett suggests that ‘we frequently don’t understand what’s
passing in the heart and minds of people with whom we have to work’ (2012, p. 274). Such
approaches to classroom climate open up new thinking, possibilities, and alternative modes
of being in schooling relations (Spinoza, 1996/1667). Learning and pedagogy cannot be
prescribed but can uphold certain principles and values that promote musical creativities.
Bourdieu (1993) argues that the values, ideas, and beliefs from which ‘practice’ mediates
creativities in an educational sense also depend on the conventions and legitimising frame-
works music teachers are governed and guided by. The REIR framework provides such
a guide that fosters connection and engagement with students, pushing the boundaries of
creativity, connectivity, retention of music students in our schools, and kinder and more
thoughtful music learning communities. society.

Questions for Consideration

1 What is the relational nature of the learning tasks that build musical creativities in your
studio?
536  Leon de Bruin
2 How do you plan musical creativities experiences that consider the social, temporal,
and relational dimensions explored in this chapter?
3 How does the REIR framework illuminate new perspectives and ways of being
creative?
4 How do constructs of musical creativities differ between teachers, and beginners and
developing students? How might a spectrum look like across the diverse students you
teach?
5 Which musical creativities align with your differentiated forms of expertise and en-
gagement, and how might this evolve?

Acknowledgement
This study was facilitated by a University of Melbourne Research Development Grant.

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45 Project-Based Learning and
Student’s Individual Creativity in
Music Teacher Education
Learning, Teaching, and Performing
Popular Music in Virtual Spaces
Jonathan Kladder

Introduction
Project-based learning is an approach to teaching and learning that has gained momentum
across the US in recent years (Kokotsaki, Menzies, & Wiggins, 2016). This pedagogical ap-
proach relies on students, often working in collaborative groups, solving series of problems
through social interaction and student-centered practices (Krajcik & Blumenfeld, 2006).
At its core, project-based learning is “built upon the idea that real-life problems capture
student interest and provoke critical thinking and develop skills as they (students) engage in
and complete complex tasks that typically result in a realistic product, event, or presentation
to an audience” (Tobias, Campbell & Greco, 2015, p. 40).
Broadly, project-based learning has become commonplace in STEM-related content ar-
eas in education (DeFillippi, 2001). This contrasts music education, however, even with
a growing number of scholars who have advocated for alternative approaches to teaching
and learning in ways that encourage hands-on and student-centered designs that support
interdisciplinary projects and creative thinking in music (Burnard, 2012, 2013; Kaschub &
Smith, 2014; Tobias, Campbell, & Greco, 2015; Williams & Kladder, 2020; Williams &
Randles, 2017). Project-based learning in music is (1) facilitated or coached by the teacher
or instructor (David, 2008), (2) collaborative and inquiry-based, and (3) considered authen-
tic, as it poses solutions to problems that occur in the real world and that people care about
(Tobias, Campbell & Greco, 2015).
These attributes hold promising outcomes for music teacher educators who implement
PBL models, especially in popular music education, which continues to be an emerging and
growing area in music education throughout the US (Powell, Krikun & Pignato, 2015).
PBL, as showcased in this chapter, can also assist in developing musicianship and creativities
in music when teaching and learning in an online environment (Randles, 2018, 2020). This
chapter highlights how PBL, when embedded into a student teaching placement located in
the northeastern region of the US, assisted in developing individual student creativity for
two undergraduate music education students in popular music. Furthermore, by providing
examples of student projects, I promote the notion that PBL models help to develop critical
thinking and increase student engagement in ways that support students’ understandings
of multiple modalities of creativity in singer/songwriter modus as outlined by Burnard
(2012). Creative music making, defined in this chapter, refers to the process of sound ex-
ploration in a process of ideation (generating a large variety of musical ideas), illumination
(combining musical ideas in unexpected ways), and incubation with an eventual process of
selecting the best musical ideas and narrowing these choices to a final product (evaluation)
(Hickey & Webster, 2001; Sawyer, 2012). In this PBL context, students create originally
composed music and take on the role of singer/songwriter as prospective music educa-
tors (Kratus, 2016). I suggest that developing and implementing a PBL model during the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-52
540  Jonathan Kladder
COVID-19 pandemic offered a creative space for popular music learning and may offer new
insights for continuing similar models in higher education after the COVID-19 pandemic
has culminated.

Setting the Stage: Creative Thinking in Music

Individual creativity is a deeply personal phenomenon (Burnard & Younker, 2004; Csiksze-
ntmihalyi, 1996; Sawyer, 2012), where individuals seek to find answers to a problem, which
follows a process that is often repetitive, explorational, and embedded in a trial-and-error
context. In creative music making, a musician’s individual creativity follows a non-linear
process, by which the generation of new musical ideas is often based on “sound explo-
ration” (Hickey & Wesbter, 2001, p. 20) as they develop new ideas through a process of
gathering information and acquiring knowledge. For example, the experiences of Kladder
(2017) suggest that songwriting and composing music using digital controllers followed a
“concurrent process of repeating any given stage, according to the needs of the creator”
(p. 305) (see Figure 45.1). These processes are supported by other significant contributions to

Problem
Finding

Gather Acquire
Broad Knowledge
Information

Generate
Ideas

Combine
Incubation
Ideas

Evaluation Externalize

Figure 45.1  A non-linear representation of an individual’s creative process adapted from Sawyer (2012).
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  541
the literature, where researchers have investigated individual creativity in music (Burnard,
2007, 2012; Webster, 2002).
This individual creative process suggested in Figure 45.1 provides one way of thinking
and knowing related to creative music making in music, and in particular, music teacher
education, when understanding the needs of students and the development of their individ-
ual creative identity throughout the creative music making process.

Where Is the Research? Project-Based Learning in Music Teacher Education

Project-based learning remains on the fringes of research in music teacher education. This
is evident in the limited number of publications on the topic (Tobias, Campbell & Greco,
2015). To understand attributes related to project-based learning (PBL) in music teacher
education, one must investigate attributes like PBL in the music education literature more
broadly. In some ways, project-based learning holds similar attributes as those found in
learner-centered teaching (Williams & Kladder, 2019) and student-centered learning. It
suggests a rethinking for how curriculum is created (broadly) and how students engage
with the material (solving problems through inquiry and discovery). First, PBL environ-
ments include a facilitative component in student learning. Cremata (2017) wrote about the
implications of adopting this form of music learning in popular music education, with pos-
sible opportunities for expanding this form of pedagogy in music education more broadly,
suggesting that it would require instructors to rethink how music is often taught. Cremata
(2017) advocates for a guide-on-the-side approach to music instruction, as students take
charge of their learning. Second, as PBL requires a shift away from teacher-led instruc-
tion, showcased by Cremata (2017), it also aligns similarly with democratic approaches
to classroom structure and curriculum design. For example, Allsup (2003) explained the
necessary changes to pedagogy that encouraged equal participation from all members of
the classroom. Third, PBL has similar characteristics to those found in experiential educa-
tion, as outlined in the seminal work of Dewey (1998). In this modus, students experience
hands-on applications to problem-solving and student-led experiences are “responsible for
making choices and for designing and managing their work” (Tobias, Campbell, & Greco,
2015, p. 40).
Some of these attributes have been conceptually explained or described by a series of
authors in music teacher education contexts in an edited volume by Kaschub and Smith
(2014). For example, Kaschub (2014) outlined new approaches to music teacher education
that were student-driven and project-based. Specific projects of representative models for
project-based learning in music teacher education are provided in this chapter. Kaschub
(2014) also outlined a new approach to fieldwork experiences with four sample project-based
learning examples for music teacher educators to consider. Tobias et al. (2015) also outlined
project-based examples that integrated digital media and technology in re-envisioning a
music education program that focused on digital media in collaborative learning spaces.
These authors offered contributions toward our understanding for implementing PBL ex-
periences in music teacher education programs, with a need to continue researching and
implementing similar projects in the curriculum with direct applications to popular music
in music teacher education curricula.
While not explicitly labeled as PBL, others, including Randles (2014) and Randles,
Griffis, and Ruiz (2015), demonstrated approaches to music teacher education that em-
bedded attributes related to popular music learning in music teacher education and cur-
ricular change aimed at rediscovering new possibilities for pedagogy in higher education
as students made music by ear and learned popular music in small groups. The authors in
this review of literature highlight the limited investigations related to PBL and, explicitly,
542  Jonathan Kladder
any connections to whether PBL models enhance individual creative thinking in music
teacher education. This chapter offers a qualitative investigation into this relationship and
suggests this is an area of research needing further investigation: the impact of pedagogical
decisions and an individual’s creativity in music and whether PBL models support the en-
hancement of creative thinking in popular music education, specifically in music teacher
education.

Popular Music in Music Teacher Education

Integrating popular music learning into music teacher education contexts remains on the
fringes of the profession as well (Cremata, 2017; Powell, Krikun, & Pignato, 2015). For
many institutions, integrating popular music into the curriculum requires significant ef-
forts, where some classes are removed or other areas, like core music studies, must be
reduced to make space for new experiences. Regardless of the approach for integrating
change, curricular change in higher education is a slow and arduous process that requires
multiple stakeholders who support efforts toward change (Williams & Randles, 2017). In
many ways, popular music education (PME) in higher education (HE) continues to slowly
emerge in the profession as it has been an approach to making music that scholars believe
offer increased opportunities for students to be creative, through improvisational creativity
and songwriting creativity (Hall, 2015; Macdonald & Miell, 2000). As curricular change
requires multiple stakeholders and force of supports to overcome those that resist change,
the COVID-19 pandemic provided a space and place that required an immediate rethink-
ing of music teaching and learning in the context of this chapter, where faculty were forced
to reconsider curricular decisions and use online modalities for music instruction and cre-
ative projects, or project-based learning models. This silver lining suggests that although
pandemics are destructive and devastating, they also require a quick and nimble rethinking
for those in higher education, which enabled a space and place for integrating change in
ways not previously possible without the possible stronghold of resistance typically fraught
with integrating new pedagogical practices and musics in the higher education classroom.
The pandemic required a change that supported creative thinking in a place and space that
typically honors strict hierarchical learning process that is not creative or supportive of stu-
dents’ creativities (Robinson, 2006).
Creative music making in popular music learning contexts continues to be represented
in the music education curriculum in limited ways and there continues to be a need for
new and emerging research related to teaching and learning popular music in HE with
emphasis on supporting music teacher education programs which desire to integrate new
experiences in their curricula (Hamilton & Vannatta-Hall, 2020; Williams, 2019). This
includes research showcasing pedagogical approaches that are relevant and characteristic of
how popular musicians learn (Green, 2017).

Context
The experiences discussed in this chapter existed largely in an online environment. Half-
way through spring 2019 academic semester, the COVID-19 pandemic began to spread
across the US. For this reason, the experiences discussed in this chapter initially began
in person and quickly shifted to an entirely online modality. All individuals were iso-
lated in their home environments and used Zoom, SoundTrap, and other online platforms
such as Google Drive to share, meet, teach, and reflect upon their creative music-making
experiences.
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  543
The Institution
The student teaching placements discussed in this chapter were requirements related to an
undergraduate degree in music education at a large private liberal arts college in Upstate
New York. The college continues to excel in music education, with an average student
population of around 250 undergraduate music education students per year. The college
is known for its School of Music (SoM) which is often referred to as the flagship of the
institution. The SoM remains one of the largest in the northeastern region of the US and
maintains a strong enrollment of 500–600 students studying music across a variety of con-
centration areas depending on the academic year. Around 50–60 full-time music faculty are
employed at the institution and many adjunct instructors work across the US to support of
the music education program and student teaching placements.

The Student Teaching Curriculum

All students in the undergraduate music education program were required to complete one
full year of student teaching prior to their senior student teaching experience. Referred to as
the “Junior Student Teaching” (JST) experience, all students, regardless of their concentra-
tion area (general, choral, strings, or band), were required to pass JST before applying for their
senior student teaching placement. All JST placements were fulfilled across one academic
year and perceived as one of the main pillars in supporting prospective students’ pedagogical
knowledge for successful careers in teaching music. JST also relied on a significant number of
stakeholders, both faculty and staff, to assure that all undergraduate students in the program
were placed in an appropriate school and guided throughout the two-semester sequence.
Typically, two or three undergraduate students were paired with one full-time or part-time
faculty mentor throughout entirety of the year as they taught in their assigned placements
two times per week. Some undergraduates taught group lessons (in general music settings,
for example) while others in one-on-one or small group lessons in band or orchestra. Most
students were paired with the same cohort of PK-8 students throughout their entire year to
develop relationships with their students and provide a more cohesive music learning experi-
ence for all. Before the popular music experiences in this chapter were created, all placements
were traditional, including band, orchestra, and general music (K-6 grade).
In band and orchestra placements, each undergraduate student prepared sets of lesson plan
for their two or three assigned students, which focused on method book instruction, skill
development for scales and arpeggios, developing characteristic tone on their instruments,
and music literacy skills aimed to support the advancement of students into more advanced
performance ensembles. These placements followed a typical in-school learning experience
that was traditional in content delivery, repertoire selection, and focus on music literacy.
Except for some instances, creativity was often an afterthought and not often included in
lesson plans. This would depend largely on the philosophical beliefs of each undergraduate
college mentor and cooperating teacher. Creativity, as a condition of learning, was largely
neglected throughout these placements.

New Curriculum and Student Teaching Placements in Popular Music Learning

Prior to the new popular music JST teaching placement experience described in this chap-
ter, the institution had hired new faculty members in music education who were interested
in creating popular music education (PME) experiences for undergraduates interested in
teaching popular music (PM) in their future careers. This led to a series of faculty meetings
544  Jonathan Kladder
and inevitably, new curriculum experiences that offered opportunities to undergraduate
students to experience PM on instruments including electric guitar, bass guitar, drum kit,
and keyboard. One of these new experiences was a PM JST model, where undergraduates
learned how to perform, play, and write songs using guitars, drums, and keyboards. I was
one of these new faculty who acted as a catalyst to initiate this change, which required
a new partnership with a local music teacher who taught PM at the secondary level. It
was important that I found a cooperating teacher who adhered to the typical approaches
to teaching PM, including learner-centered and student-led music-making, ear-based ap-
proaches to learning music (limited or no notation required), improvisation, and creative
thinking that included elements of songwriting (Green, 2017).

The Pandemic and Its Impact

As students were engaged with teaching and learning about PM in their teaching place-
ment, during the spring, 2019 semester, all undergraduate students were removed from
real-world and in-person teacher placements because of the COVID-19 pandemic that
unfolded. Therefore, all PK-12 students were required to stay home. This required a sig-
nificant change for each of the JST placements. The shift to entirely online modus for
instructional delivery required a complete paradigm shift in how music teacher educa-
tion would continue to support undergraduate student needs in music education and their
preparation for careers teaching music. For this reason, I adopted and modified all learning
experiences into a project-based learning model for the remaining eight weeks of the aca-
demic semester.

Author
I have had many music-making experiences in popular music as both a punk rocker and ska
musician in middle and high school, which abruptly ended upon my entrance into higher
education as a musician. However, a significant portion of my early music experiences are
rooted in approaches to music learning that align with Green’s (2002) seminal work with
popular musicians. For this reason, teaching and facilitating songwriting with popular mu-
sic instruments, like the electric guitar, are commonplace to the experiences I had in popu-
lar music before entering the music education profession. These experiences supported my
understanding of making music within a process that were highly creative and reliant upon
online resources for learning skills and techniques on the guitar (Kladder, 2021).

Participants
There were two undergraduate students involved in the project-based learning experiences
described in this chapter during the COVID-19 pandemic. Both were excited about the pos-
sibilities related to teaching popular music in their future careers as music educators. For the
purpose of this chapter, pseudonyms are used for anonymity of each student: Anna and Adam.
Each student held formal training backgrounds in secondary education, with music per-
formance experiences in the choral concentration area. Furthermore, each student was in
the choral music education track at the institution and had completed all the core music
requirements, including theory, aural skills, and piano proficiencies. Neither had taken a
music technology course that emphasized creating music in a digital audio workstation
environment and neither had experience in formal learning spaces with popular music in-
struments. Adam and Anna were very integrated into the culture of the choir experiences
at the institution as classically trained musicians.
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  545
Anna had no previous experiences with popular music and never formally performed on
an electric guitar, bass, or drum kit. She was excited to learn new instruments but recog-
nized that she needed to work diligently to acquire the skillset to effectively teach them.
There was a lot of excitement from Anna during the semester, but her timid personality
often made her question whether she was making the correct pedagogical choices in her
lessons. Anna had never written a song or created her own music prior to the experiences
described in this chapter.
Adam was a classically trained pianist in addition to singing at the institution. His experi-
ences with piano had allowed him opportunities to accompany other musicians at school. He
had played a significant number of musical theatre performances, in addition to some jazz and
popular music. Adam could read chord lead sheets, play by ear, and improvise on the piano.
He also had some experience playing acoustic and electric guitar but did not know many scale
patterns or picking chord techniques. He was a confident musician and considered himself
a well-rounded musician outside the classical domain of music performance. Adam also had
some experiences writing original melodic and harmonic ideas on his acoustic guitar.
Adam and Anna were reliable music education students in the program and sought out
new experiences in ways that pushed their pedagogical knowledge and musical skillset.
They were organized, timely, and dependable. These attributes supported their ability to
apply themselves outside their comfort zone as they learned, created, and performed pop-
ular music.

The Popular Music PBL Experience

At the beginning of the semester, I met with each student to develop a range of individ-
ual learning goals for the semester. We encouraged each other to consider goals that were
related to pedagogical implications for teaching PM. Figure 45.1 showcases some of the
students’ written goals, prior to the pandemic unfolding. Because I wanted the experience
to follow a PBL model, collaboratively, we discussed the implications for how music in
secondary education is often taught, with a conductor/teacher on a podium, who typically
makes most of the curricular decisions, including repertoire selection, creative interpreta-
tions of the music, and instrumentation. I posed challenging questions related to music ped-
agogy and in return, they discussed and reflected upon their answers. In these discussions,
we considered examples of how PM, ideally, is taught using a learner-centered approach in
ways that emphasized creative music making through processes of sound exploration,
using digital or acoustic instruments with an intended goal to write an original song and
understand basic knowledge for improvisation on a guitar using YouTube backing tracks.
We discussed that creative thinking is in part a social activity, in which multiple modalities
of music making (e.g., improvisation, sound exploration, composing, and performing) are
inherently embedded into the music itself and “having creativity is a necessary condition
for having music” (Burnard, 2012, p. 9). We also discussed the implications of learner-­
centered pedagogical approaches, where teachers learn instruments alongside their students,
often finding resources together or even teaching one another as they learn music by ear
collaboratively (Green, 2017). This notion that students and teachers work collaboratively
and alongside one another suggests similar connections to group creativity as Sawyer (2017)
wrote, stating that “when we collaborate, creativity unfolds across people; the sparks fly
faster, and the whole is greater than the sum of its parts” (p. 12).
As much of Adam and Anna’s formal music learning had been in the classical music par-
adigm, they also recognized that popular music was not taught at their institution, so they
made conceded efforts in the JST experience to push their individual musicianship and
learn new instruments throughout the semester. This is where the PBL model became most
546  Jonathan Kladder

JST 2020 Goals

1. Build a personal connection with at least one student

a. We talked a bit about how one of the was IC teaches how to teach is my
practicing a sort of hierarchical system, where the teacher is on top and the rest
of the students are inferior. I would love to break that mold this semester.
2. Learn from or with students
a. By the end of this semester I would like to be comfortable with figuring
things out as I go. If I run into a problem or question while teaching an
instrument, I want to be able to work through it with the student rather than
stopping the lesson.
3. Adapt lesson plans to student interest
a. If a student decides they no longer want to play an instrument or if an
assignment or something is not interesting them, I want to be able to respond
to that.
4. Become comfortable on more instruments
Instruments like guitar, bass, and drum set are not taught at IC. I would love to learn
them by experiencing teaching them.

Figure 45.2  An abbreviated example of student-created goals at the beginning of the semester.

apparent, as each student chose their own pathway for learning the music and skills in popu-
lar music that were aligned with their desires, interested, and needs. For Anna, this seemed
like a daunting task. Adam, who already had some experience playing guitar, began the
semester learning some basic rock drum grooves. When we moved entirely online, we both
decided to move to the guitar since he did not have access to a drum kit at his home. After
each student had created learning goals, we often returned to their goal lists throughout the
entire semester to inform their growth as both a popular musician and educator. I would
create inquiry-based questions around how they could meet their goals more effectively
across the semester and within each of their projects.
Although the PBL model in this JST experience did include a formal syllabus, the
­student-created goals showcased in Figure 45.1 shaped their experiences throughout the en-
tire semester in significant ways. For example, a central attribute in PBL allows students the
adaptability and space to find problems and then choose pathways to help solve those prob-
lems, with guidance and facilitation from their instructor. For this reason, Anna and Adam
created projects that assisted in learning their material each week. I also wanted to create a
space where they could take risks and try new things, including creative activities such as
improvisation and songwriting. Therefore, they researched a variety of approaches for impro-
vising simple melodic ideas behind backing tracks using a particular scale pattern, or mode.
In addition to creating goals that were guided and facilitated by their instructor across
each week in the semester, students created basic musicianship projects. Figure 45.2 show-
cases a few of Adam’s documented projects. In this image, Adam was working on an inter-
mediate blues riff that he found on YouTube. It was meant to support his understanding and
skillset for improvising on the guitar. Each of the numbered elements in Figure 45.2 show-
cases one element of the project he had been working on. Once the project was ready, each
student would video record themselves playing the material. From there, they uploaded the
video to YouTube and shared their link. Last, I would watch the video and provide feedback
(shown below in orange). At times, I would make song suggestions to support their creative
and skill development. Adam did not always take my suggestions but would often return
with a musical selection that he wanted instead (Figure 45.3).
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  547

Figure 45.3  An example of projects that Adam worked on across the semester.

Every week, Adam and Anna would choose a song, scale, and chord pattern to learn
(individually) and perform while recording. A link of the performance was shared to
their instructor via YouTube. These were some of the musicianship projects that emerged
throughout the semester. Often, they would build upon the previous scale or song in a se-
quential way and sometimes they did not. In almost every project, Adam and Anna would
use their newly learned chords to write their own chord pattern and then “perform” it to
receive any feedback. This demonstrates one modus for creating their own music in this
PBL model.
548  Jonathan Kladder
Key Goals and Attributes of the Experience
There were a variety of goals and attributes that were important when I created the JST
popular music experience after the pandemic unfolded. First, each student focused their ex-
periences on real-world skill development for teaching popular music in secondary school
settings. Together, we wanted to help develop their abilities as musicians in this medium,
thus creating a space and place for them to build upon their previous skills on guitar, while
also encouraging them to pick their own repertoire by learning music from YouTube and
other ear-based online resource (Cayari, 2011). Second, I wanted each student to feel em-
powered to make musical and curricular decisions with guidance from their instructor,
where appropriate. For this reason, the PBL experiences embedded into the semester were
based on a student-centered approach, my role was minimal. Third, I wanted to create a
space where they felt comfortable making mistakes and to find how they might learn from
them. We embedded weekly reflections that were both discussive (online in Zoom meet-
ings) and written.
Fourth, we intentionally focused some project work on skill building within a frame-
work that supported creativity (songwriting and improvisation). We made sure that each
of the lessons was inclusive of improvisation, whether playing with a backing track or cre-
ating an original backtrack of their own. The final project of the semester required each
student to create their own song in SoundTrap. To enhance their creative work further,
each student helped to facilitate a composition project with their peer as well. Finally, as
most popular musicians use ear-based approaches to music learning, I encouraged Adam
and Anna to follow a similar procedure. As researchers suggest, many popular musicians
cover existing material to gain insight and understanding of chord progressions, melodic
phrasing, and basic skill development on an instrument or voice. Therefore, I encouraged
Adam and Anna to use audio recordings or YouTube tracks to listen and emulate chord
progressions, copy and learn basic guitar melodies or riffs, and then take that knowledge to
support their individual creative ideas that were eventually embedded into their originally
written songs. They learned music by ear, through a process of trial and error. We found
that learning music by ear was exceptionally challenging for Anna, more than Adam. As
Adam had some previous experience with learning and performing popular music and
some jazz performing on piano, Adam’s willingness and ability to create music by ear came
more naturally. Anna was more traditionally trained in music and had limited experiences
experimenting with musical ideas by ear. However, the idea of sound exploration and mak-
ing mistakes seemed more supportive of student’s musical creativity when playing by ear.
We suggest that ear-based music making allows for musical freedom for exploring a wide
range of ideas for making music in this medium.

Outcomes

Student Feedback and Experiences of Creativity

Students attended a weekly meeting to reflect on their experiences. Admittedly, it was dif-
ficult to understand the extent to which their feelings and experiences were connected to
the COVID-19 pandemic and the disruption it had caused on each of their personal lives,
including their school and classes, and the experiences showcased in their JST experience.
However, as we met together weekly, our discussions were often related to how they were
doing, their mental health, and whether their projects were moving along smoothly. It
often surfaced in our meetings that students were enjoying their experiences teaching and
learning popular music. They were enthusiastic about choosing the music they wanted to
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  549
learn, which may have assisted or mediated an otherwise difficult and challenging time in
their lives (related to the pandemic).
However, there were no shortages of challenges that we faced along the way. The first
obvious challenge came from the time involved when searching for songs they wanted to
learn, all while maintaining the intense workload from their other music courses. It was
also a challenge for students to be in control of their own musical endeavors and guided
throughout the process. They would often refer to their “other” music courses related to
their JST experience and often compared them. In their “other” music ensembles, they were
told what and how to play, sing, or perform. The autonomy that I provided was intended to
represent an authentic project-based pedagogical approach, where they were encouraged to
make many of the decisions related to solving their problems but altogether foreign to them
in a formal music learning space. A specific example of this is that each student wanted to
further their ability on the electric/acoustic guitar. I encouraged them to find the materi-
als and resources they needed online and did not provide this curriculum for them. This
required time and effort, as they searched online where to find chords and scale patterns.
They often used YouTube videos to learn the techniques for songs they wanted to learn,
which required them to initiate and engage with the learning experience in ways they had
not previously engaged. I did not directly teach the technique or skills to Adam and Anna.
The creative aspect of the music learning experience was also a significant challenge for
each student. Although they overcame their challenges, creating music was not something
either student had much previous experience with. As both held traditional experiences in
music, with strict protocols in the choral rehearsal space, they found it challenging to be
creative individually, even with the support and guidance of each other and their instructor.
Perhaps one of the most notable outcomes from this project was their ability to work
through an online environment, where they were asked to be creative, using instruments
they had minimal experience composing or improvising with and on. Fostering creative
thinking in music, specifically in popular music, can be challenging even when two or
more musicians are in the same room. Thus, an online creative music-making experience
was even more challenging, as they had to work through barriers associated with Zoom
(latency and feedback) and SoundTrap, which was a digital audio workstation both students
needed to learn, in order to share their musical ideas with one another. Regardless, both
students were able to mitigate these challenges by working through and thinking ahead
about how their lessons could be constructed and the challenges they would encounter
during their experience teaching. For example, sharing screen audio through Zoom creates
significant delay, so each student would preload their YouTube backing tracks and perform
separately instead of together. This suggests that there are consequences related to authoring
a creative performance in online environments: the loss of connection with other musicians
and also ability to easily and fluidly share musical ideas. Improvisation through call and
response required a significant rethinking, where playing in rhythm or in tempo with the
track became nearly impossible. Part of their success was their motivation and dedication to
the process and working diligently to reach their goals.
Once the semester was completed, Adam had moved on to his senior student teaching
placement. In a conversation with him, he stated that he felt that the PBL popular music
experiences from the JST placement had provided valuable insights into his senior student
teaching placement. He wrote that:

I’m teaching two guitar classes, a ukulele class, two piano classes, and 2 choral ensembles. The
student body at this high school is very similar to the student body at {Institution name}. It’s been
really fun figuring out how to teach guitar over Zoom while also seeing some students in class at
the same time. Last years JST experience DEFINITELY helped prepare me for this. Some of the
550  Jonathan Kladder
kids are just starting out with learning strumming patterns and cross string picking within the first
three frets, but some others are already moving onto barre chords.

Finally, the PBL model was a new experience for both Adam and Anna and although they
faced challenges along the way, each student found it refreshing that they could choose their
own repertoire and practice as needed to meet their weekly musicianship goals.

Author’s Experiences
As much of my previous music-making experiences have existed within the popular music
milieu (see “An Autoethnography of a Punk Rocker Turned Music Teacher”, Kladder, 2021)
and align with Green’s (2017) seminal work with popular musicians, I found the experi-
ences as both rewarding and enjoyable. I discovered that mentoring and guiding Anna and
Adam through the JST experience in popular music is a refreshing change from mentoring
and guiding students in more traditional contexts of wind band instruments. It allowed for
more freedom and sound exploration, specifically related to multiple modalities of creativities
outlined in Burnard’s (2012) work investigating the pluralities of creative thinking in music.
Prior to being my employment as a faculty member and middle school band director in music
education, I also taught rock guitar to students out of a small guitar shop in the Midwestern
region of the US. These experiences showcased the value and importance of allowing space for
students to create original music, allowed them opportunities to choose repertoire that they
wanted to play, and integrated skill-based exercises in ways that supported their musicianship
and musical growth through pathways that were connected to the music students wanted to
learn and real-world applications related to performance creativities (Burnard, 2012). There-
fore, the JST experiences demonstrated in this chapter highlight similar outcomes to those
I was already accustomed. For this reason, it was evident that popular music learning in this
context, a context that did not follow a specific curriculum for learning and performing on
popular music instruments, enhanced Adam and Anna’s understanding of creative thinking
and supported social constructed and performance-oriented creativities in ways that allowed
for exploration and ideation. Most importantly, it required that I take a back seat and support
their learning or add suggestions only where necessary, since creative thinking can often be
an individual experience, where individual develops ideas in a secluded and inspirational place
and space (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014).
Perhaps one of the biggest challenges as a faculty mentor throughout the semester was
understanding when to take a step back and allow students the time and space to make
mistakes. I also learned a valuable insight, that although it works for students to learn an
instrument via YouTube, they also need guidance at times. The PBL model allows students
to find problems and then search for answers. However, in a music performance context,
where skills and techniques are required to play and instrument, YouTube did have its limi-
tations. Students in this experience desired feedback and I worked diligently to engage with
them in meaningful ways that support their inquiry and discover for creating, performing
on popular instruments.
As each student had prior experiences with Western-Classical music theory and chord
structure, I assumed that they could use that theory to support their understanding for
creating chord progression in their original songs. This became more challenging than I
thought it initially would, as I ended up supporting the development of their chord pro-
gressions at times during their songwriting experiences. We often listened to popular mu-
sic as a reference point to help them guide their work. They also found it difficult to find
chord progressions after they had created a “riff” or melodic idea on the guitar. However,
it was a reward for me when they were able to understand the creative projects in ways that
supported their melodic and harmonic ideas as they wrote original material. Much of their
 Learning, Teaching, Performing Popular Music in Virtual Spaces  551
processes were experimental and SoundTrap allowed for ease of recording musical ideas
using either the MIDI piano roll or instrument feature built into the software.
Perhaps the most notable experience was that a PBL model supported a process of music
learning that was individualized, flexible, and adaptable to student’s needs. It offered a rele-
vant way for students to experience popular music and supported students exploration with
digital technology to enhance their creative activities as they learned how to multitrack
record their musical ideas and explore a variety of sounds through a process that was largely
a process of trial and error. Importantly, students learning in this PBL model showed us that
building an online music-making experience allowed for access to new musics and new
approaches to creative thinking in music that were not tied to the perceptions or barriers
associated with institutional learning. As Burnard wrote, “building online communities is
a fundamental part of the social interaction of developing new creativities” (p. 4), which is
evident in building Adam and Anna’s creativities in this chapter as well. As Adam and Anna
learned the instruments and music, they found a common approach to how many popular
musicians learn (Green, 2017) and that repetition, personal motivation, and dedication to
their craft were key in being successful, which showcases the intricate and interesting inter-
sections related to personal exploration and inspiration for developing musical creativities
on an individual level, but also in coordination and social collaboration through online
music learning environments like those in this chapter, with SoundTrap. There were many
moments in the semester where we grew as musicians together and overcame technical
issues related to learning music in an entirely online environment.

Concluding Thoughts and Implications for Music Teacher Educators

and Creativity
The inclusion of popular music and developing students’ musical creativities within the
music teacher education curriculum requires perseverance and dedication and supports the
notion that

higher music educators can significantly influence attitudes towards music learning and
learners’ motivation to learn, not only through developing their creativities, but by under-
standing what we consider to be the most important aspects of higher education for under-
standing the music profession are, and by preparing musicians for careers in music.
(p. 4)

This chapter suggests that a PBL model, when integrated within a popular music learning con-
text and paired with a music teacher educator who values and supports creative thinking, offers
a pathway in supporting students’ multiple modalities of creative thinking in music (Burnard,
2012). This is significant in a growing internet global phenomenon, where musicians are
continually creating new music in online communities. It holds even more significance in the
context of popular music education, as research suggests that undergraduate music education
students experience popular music in limited ways across the curriculum (0.54%) (Wang &
Humphreys, 2009). Although this may slowly be changing, it is certainly the case in the expe-
riences represented in this chapter. For this reason, there needs to be an increase of creative ex-
periences for undergraduate students who are pursuing careers in music education (Cremata,
2019). Especially those who integrate virtual music-making experiences that enhance and
support multiple modalities of creativity in music, as Burnard wrote, “Virtual music making
is now a ubiquitous practice” (p. 3). This also influences the ways that pedagogical choices can
support creative thinking in music through performance, process, music technology, and pop-
ular music across the curricula. The experiences from students in this chapter highlight that
the COVID-19 pandemic made learning more challenging but required students to embrace
552  Jonathan Kladder
multiple forms of creative music making in virtual spaces, and, ironically, helped to support
their understanding of music making relevant to how most musicians exist in the music indus-
try (Burnard, 2012). It also showcased how students in the music education curriculum could
learn and be challenged to grow as musicians using a PBL model through learning new in-
struments, musical learning pathways (aural/oral), and creativities. These students recognized
that songwriting and creativity were neglected components of their musical upbringing and
even in the formal learning institution. Although daunting at first, each student accepted the
challenge and transformed into musicians who were excited about thinking “outside the box”
and recognized that trying new approaches to music learning was inspiration.
Offering PBL experiences in music teacher education engages students in a process of
exploration, research, inquiry, and problem-solving, which are all characteristics often asso-
ciated with creative thinking in music (Kladder & Lee, 2019). Even in music-making con-
texts during a COVID-19 pandemic, specifically in popular music, a PBL model supported
creative thinking in this experience. Students were able to create projects that included
original songs and weekly projects aimed at supporting their individual learning goals and
needs. The autonomy provided to students in this experience offered space and place for
individual creativities to thrive in online modus for sharing and disseminating musical
ideas. A PBL model supported a higher level of student engagement, as I provided space for
students to engage with popular music material.
In the case of this chapter, students had not often considered teaching music outside of a
Western-European hierarchical model, where the teacher maintains the role of the conduc-
tor and students follow the orders/directives of the conductor until we had discussed new
possibilities for teaching music. In this modus, creative thinking is often minimal in student
learning, as students are passive engagers in the music-making process. However, the evi-
dence in this chapter suggests that undergraduate music education students need to be chal-
lenged to consider new ideas, explore multiple modalities of creative thinking in music, learn
about digital music technology and virtual music-making spaces, and be creative through-
out the entirety of their undergraduate degree program. I would suggest that a PBL model
supports these efforts. In conclusion, changing curriculum to incorporate popular music or
new pedagogical approaches does not always require the addition of a new class. Sometimes,
implementing a PBL model into a curriculum can help shape and support music-making
experiences that students choose and offer change through meaningful ways without restruc-
turing an entire curriculum and still promote creativities in music (Kratus, 2015).

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46 Students as the Educator
A Student-centric Model for Curriculum
Development
Jonathan McElroy

Introduction
Freire (1970, 2000) suggests, “They [educator and students] become jointly responsible for
a process in which all grow” (p. 80). This growth is not stimulated without dialogue be-
tween the educator and the student. This dialogic process is integral in “problem-posing”
education (Freire, 1970, 2000), Ethic of Care (Noddings, 2013), music education as Praxis
(Elliott, 1995; Elliott & Silverman, 2015), “musical creativities” (Burnard, 2013), and Dew-
ey’s (1916) discussion of a democratic learning environment. Logically, through dialogue,
a student-centered education in a democratic classroom will better serve students while
simultaneously fostering creativity.

Background
Teachers should aim to “transform education” while simultaneously holding “to values and
practices that make radical improvements to its processes and outcomes” (Burnard, 2013,
p. 237). Doing so adds to the developed understanding of newer educational practices, ped-
agogies, and curriculum in formal and informal education settings. To better serve students,
critical and self-reflection is applied to the development and adaptation of curriculum and ped-
agogy. Situated in a caring relationship and through dialogue, I sought a greater incorporation
of the undergraduate student in their education experience. This was in an effort to better serve
students and be part of a change with them. To research this approach, I examined undergrad-
uate student inclusion in the development of a portion of a course’s curriculum for a single
semester. The following research question served to gain a better understanding of this inquiry:

How does the process of undergraduate students’ preparation, development, and exe-
cution of a curriculum of their design, foster, develop and reflect a culturally relevant,
rigorous, and engaging curriculum for a music course?

Examination of this inquiry revealed two avenues for gained understanding: the first be-
ing the contribution of knowledge in the inclusion of students in their education process/
experience; the second, contributing to the burgeoning field of understanding creativities
in research and education. This revealed the intersection of students’ self and creation as fa-
cilitating a personal education experience—thereby illuminating the importance of student
inclusion in their education.

Literature
A praxial music education is holistic, multidimensional, and social, with the aim of
fostering a student’s positive transformation through active and critical reflection

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-53
 Students as the Educator  555
(Elliott  &  Silverman, 2015; Regelski, 2016). Personhood encapsulates students’ holis-
tic nature—an embodied, enactive, and socio-culturally situated being. See chapter 2,
Toward an Embodied Concept of Creativity, by David Elliott for a detailed discussion of
embodiment. “Musicing” (Elliott, 1995; Elliot & Silverman, 2015) or “Musicking”
(Regelski, 2016; Small, 1998) is an individual’s participation in music through the
plethora of means of doing music. Participating in any music praxis and skill level is a
­socio-personal experience deeply embodied with the environment and intertwined with
everyday life (Regelski, 2016; van der Schyff, 2020). Dylan van der Schyff discusses this
concept in chapter 41, Music Pedagogy and the Creative Body. A praxial music education
encourages and empowers an individual’s life-long musicing in this social context—
thereby fostering a student’s positive transformation which encourages and empowers
human flourishing (Smith & Silverman, 2020). Including students in a course’s curric-
ulum creation provides the opportunity for their experiences, knowledge, and perspec-
tive to be integral and central.
Sarath (2013, 2018) defines transculturalism as the engagement and incorporation of
ethnically diverse epistemologies of differing music domains. Students guide the educa-
tional process by learning from one another in relation to their cultural, racial, gender,
and other contextual aspects. Schippers (2009) and Elliott and Silverman (2015) describe
multiculturalism as the equitable presentation, discussion, and authentic engagement of a
music praxis through musicing. Both concepts emerged to address the social and cultural
elements of music education. However, an educator must act ethically and educatively in
a praxial framework for both concepts to function as defined above. Doing so presents all
music praxes as valuable and rich resources. Students’ curriculum creation and implemen-
tation presents the opportunity to share personal, meaningful, and contextual aspects in a
democratic setting. As such, the potential to explore and share this connection reflects a
multicultural and transcultural education.
Ladson-Billings (1992) defines Culturally Relevant Pedagogy (CRP) as a “collective
action grounded in cultural understandings, experiences, and ways of knowing the world”
(p. 383). Initially, the pedagogy investigated the successful practices of teachers of African
American students. However, CRP has grown broader through its application by educa-
tors and researchers, as well as taken different names (Emdin, 2016; Ladson-Billings, 2014;
Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995; Paris, 2012). Emdin (2016) identifies CRP as Reality Ped-
agogy (RP), which he defined as a teaching and learning approach whose primary goal is
“meeting each student on his or her own cultural and emotional turf ” (p. 27). Paris (2012)
compares the terms responsive and relevant to tolerance in multiculturalism, question-
ing their usefulness—arguing that both terms can fall short in maintaining heritage and
value to culture and linguistic sharing across different student backgrounds. Building upon
CRP, Paris (2012) posits Culturally Sustaining Pedagogy (CSP). CSP seeks to make peda-
gogy meaningful and valuable through supportive and sustaining practices. Ladson-Billings
(2014) confirms the need for growth and development of CRP toward CSP, as pedagogies
need to transition and adapt to meet student needs.
Burnard (2012) argues that a music teacher’s goal is to make music education relevant
through fostering and supporting student expression. Expanding upon the concept “musi-
cal creativities,” centering students’ creative expression in a learning experience facilitates
a transformative education (Burnard, 2012, 2013). For example, a student’s unique self
informs their education experience through expression intersecting with creativity. Since
education is socially situated, all participants (classmates and educator) simultaneously con-
tribute and learn in this creative process. Students are centered in their learning experi-
ence through creating and implementing a curriculum. This provides an opportunity for
self-expression through creativity unique to each student. As a result, “different kinds of
556  Jonathan McElroy
musical creativities” are explored and shared through the pedagogical approach of having
undergraduate students develop a portion of a course’s curriculum (Burnard, 2012, p. 237).
Hartwig (2014) defines Action Research (AR) as “a qualitative study that has as its main
aim, the improvement of practice” (p. 92). In the classroom the teacher/researcher exam-
ines a research problem to inform and improve educational practices in a practical and ap-
plicable manner. Through AR, students and educators can impact the learning experience
in the classroom with the potential to influence practices at large.
Thibeault (2015), Koops (2009), and Mok (2016) illustrated AR in music education.
Thibeault (2015) explored how the participatory field can complement and enhance music
education, such as a revitalization of a traditional band program. Koops (2009) and Mok
(2016) provided examples of AR at the undergraduate level—respectively, examining the
emergent democratic classroom and viability of a curriculum created through the inclusion
of undergraduate students; and investigating what undergraduate pre-service music teach-
ers learn about their own teaching practices from conducting action research projects.
AR can facilitate gained understanding by illuminating the breadth of knowledge
through the inclusion of undergraduate students in the creation of curriculum. Further-
more, examination through a CSP lens situated in a praxial framework centered the stu-
dent/participant voices in their education experience and research.

Research Framework
It has been suggested that educators and students foster growth jointly (Dewey, 1916; Elli-
ott, 1995; Elliott & Silverman, 2015; Freire, 1970, 2000). Students’ central role in this re-
search study provided an opportunity to better understand their inclusion in the educational
experience. Therefore, Participatory Action Research (PAR) was utilized as the research
method. The voices of the students/participants as co-researchers were centered throughout
the study (Herr & Anderson, 2015).
Kemmis and McTaggart (1987) define AR to include PAR. They define AR as “a form
of collective, self-reflective enquiry undertaken by participants in social situations in order to
improve the rationality and justice of their own social or educational practices…” (p. 4). The
“Teacher-as-Researcher Movement” and PAR’s extensive use for educator and pedagogy de-
velopment illustrated PAR’s applicability in this music education study (Burke & Greene, 2015;
Conway et al., 2010; Herr & Anderson, 2015; Turner et al., 2013; West, 2011) (Figure 46.1).

Positionality
My role as professor placed me as an outsider to the students; however, engaged in PAR, an
insider with the participants. Herr and Anderson (2015) discuss positionality in education
and describe the educator/researcher as an “insider in collaboration with other insiders”
(pp. 45–46). Elliott (2002) described the action researcher as “simultaneously insider-­
outsider” (p. 92). My role as professor/researcher placed me as an insider/outsider working
with insiders. As Herr and Anderson (2015) and Elliott (2002) caution, the researcher must
self-reflect and acknowledge one’s insider/participatory status. Doing so addressed the false
sense of objectivity and researcher assumptions and biases.

Validity
Herr and Anderson (2015) describe five specific criteria in determining a PAR study’s valid-
ity. These include process, democratic, dialogic, outcome, and catalytic validity. The PAR
study presented in this chapter addressed each criterion, demonstrating the strength and
 Students as the Educator  557

Educator Classmates

Student

Multiple Creativities

Multiple Creativities

Curriculum

Curriculum Curriculum
Development Implementation

Figure 46.1  The cyclical overlap of the educator, class, and individual student simultaneously facilitates
and influences the different manifestations of creativity during curriculum development. The
solid arrows of the student and classmates represent their engagement with the curriculum.
The dashed arrow of the educator represents the invited partnership between the educator
and students as they work alongside each other. The process of student’s developed and imple-
mented curriculum is situated within the pluralistic notion of creativity. As a result, students’
holistic self is central to the curriculum in which they learn as it intersects with the different
manifestations of creativity.

validity of this research study and its findings. Furthermore, triangulation in data collection
while documenting my experiences illustrated efforts to establish validity (Hartwig, 2014).

Methods
A PAR framework informed the research study to gain a better understanding of un-
dergraduate students’ inclusion in their educational experience. The following research
question guided this inquiry: how does the process of undergraduate students’ preparation,
558  Jonathan McElroy
development, and execution of a curriculum of their design foster, develop, and reflect a
culturally relevant, rigorous, and engaging curriculum for a music course?

Case Selection and Description

A PAR study was conducted during the Fall 2019 semester in an Ear Training I music
course at a private four-year East coast university in the United States. Seven undergrad-
uate music majors were enrolled in the course as part of program requirements.
During a 14-week semester, students created a Student-Led Lesson for one class. Classes met
weekly for an hour and 20 minutes. Students chose any topic in the field of Ear Training I to
construct their lesson. Students also created assignments, projects, quizzes, tests, music-based
exercises, and any other pedagogical tool. As a participant, I worked alongside students while
constructing their lesson. This included discussing pedagogical approaches, curriculum de-
velopment, to working-out ideas. I served as a participant while students led their lesson for a
class. On rare occasions, students would ask me to intervene during their lesson.
Participants created their curriculum in the first seven weeks of the semester. The cur-
riculum was implemented during the remaining seven weeks. Participants and I had the
opportunity to experience the curriculum and reflect upon the process while it unfolded.
Action research methodology is fluid (Herr & Anderson, 2015; Irby, 2016; Shdaimah
et al., 2011). This PAR study reflected a fluid and cyclical approach simultaneously occur-
ring and adapting. Herr and Anderson (2015) describe this process as plan-act-observe-re-
flect and repeat.

Participants and Recruitment

All seven participants (four females, three males) were matriculated undergraduate students
enrolled in Ear Training I. The average age of six of the seven participants was 19 years, with
one participant in their early 30s. Potential participants were recruited by an independent
research assistant who presented the study and distributed and collected the informed con-
sent. I was given access to the informed consent after final grades were submitted.

Data Collection
Data collection methods included two semi-structured interviews, observations, student
journals, and all artifacts associated with the Student-Led Lesson. Artifacts included hand-
outs, assignments, tests, and quizzes. Two semi-structured interviews, a minimum of 45
minutes, were conducted with each participant before and after their Student-Led Lesson.
A total of 14 semi-structured interviews were conducted. Observations were conducted
during each Student-Led Lesson. Additional observations were conducted in the music
department building throughout the semester to observe participants’ preparations. Partic-
ipants kept journals during the semester documenting their experiences and perspective in
creating and implementing their curriculum.

Data Analysis
Verbatim transcripts generated from the interviews’ audio recordings, field notes generated
from observations, and participants’ journals provided three coded data sources. The coding
process began with initial coding followed by focused coding (Charmaz, 2014). Similar and
overlapping codes were condensed and further analyzed, leading to the emergence of themes.
The qualitative data analysis computer program Atlas.ti was used for coding and analysis.
 Students as the Educator  559
Findings
Three themes emerged from the analysis of this study. In alignment with PAR, analysis and
discussion of the themes reflected the students’/participants’ process and experience in their
own words (Figure 46.2).

Self-Guided Learning
Students had a multitude of options when designing their curriculum. The creation pro-
cess was viewed as a presentation or an opportunity to move beyond traditional classroom
practices. The latter became evident as students described a self-guided learning experience
unique to their background and specific interests.
Students desired to solidify their understanding of a given topic and establish or strengthen
their fundamental understanding of music when developing their curriculum.

Multiple Creativities

Self-guided
Learning

Connection To
Trusting Self Others

Student-centered
Curriculum
Development and
Implementation

Figure 46.2  The three emergent themes in the study’s findings illustrate the cyclical overlap and notion
of the pluralistic nature of creativity. This was evident in the students’ reflections upon their
educational experience in creating and implementing a curriculum of their own design.
560  Jonathan McElroy
I’m kind of hoping that it will help me, that by actually having to go through it and get
my songs together, be like this either means it fully clicked or I still have a bit of work
to do…Because I’m a firm believer if you actually have the fundamentals, it helps build
everything. And that’s one of my fundamentals that I really needed to learn this year.

In her self-reflection, Brooke created a plan to address an educational need. Paul described
a similar experience:

When I was creating this, I was kind of looking through my notes from theory just
to give myself a frame of reference. And it was almost like I was studying in a way to
create this…so I think I’m even better with it now than I was when I was tested on it
a couple weeks ago.

Both students looked inwardly, evaluated their understanding intersecting with their educa-
tional development, and created a means to further aid their education. Brooke’s and Paul’s
self-guided learning illustrated a specific aim and time frame in their approach. Dean’s self-
guided learning experience reached beyond his curriculum.

I think it’s more like sparked my interest in like going a little bit deeper into the topic,
even after the presentation…Like the couple days afterwards I was doing a lot of ran-
dom searches for common chord progressions and stuff like that.

Interest in looking deeper into chord progressions inspired Dean’s educational experience
to continue beyond the classroom and curriculum.
Dean assessed his understanding while considering fellow musicians’ needs when devel-
oping his curriculum.

It’s something that I think, like if you’re a musician you should be able to do [changing
keys of a song]…if you know a little bit about it, it just makes your life easier as a musi-
cian…It just makes you a better musician. It makes you more versatile.

Dean’s concern for classmates illuminated a shared phenomenon between participants when
creating and executing their curriculum. Students attended to both their own and their
classmates’ educational needs.
Participants engaged their curriculum through different perspectives and approaches.
However, self-guided learning provided a starting point and pathway for students’ educa-
tional experiences. Students’ needs guided learning in the classroom and beyond. As Jack
stated, “it [curriculum design] gave me a chance to explore a subject that I was curious
about for a long time prior to this assignment.”

Trusting Self
Participants addressed their educational needs from a personal reference point through self-
guided learning. The second theme emerged in this process—Trusting Self. “I know that’s a
lot of stuff and I feel like it might be a little confusing. But I think I can come in and make
it relatable, kind of relate to what we are doing too.” Jack understood the depth of his cur-
riculum. However, he recognized his ability to aid his classmates’ understanding through
making the material relatable. This was achieved through two different approaches: per-
ception in relation to context, and situated in the Ear Training I class context. Jack trusted
his ability to articulate, clarify, and demonstrate his topic’s applicability to his classmates.
 Students as the Educator  561
Anne’s reflection illuminated a different manifestation of Trusting Self. “I’m so nervous,
but I’m telling you that I’m not basically going to practice. I have to prepare, but I have to
do it in my own weird way.” Anne’s dedication of time practicing her curriculum was min-
imal. However, her dedication to preparation was not lacking. Anne, preparing in her own
“weird way,” demonstrated a self-understanding of how she best accomplishes projects.
Despite anxiety, Anne trusted her approach in preparing her curriculum.
Reflecting upon their curriculum implementation revealed the importance of students/
participants Trusting Self. As Lily stated: “I nailed it. I got it down in C major. It’s fine, that’s
something I can solidly know without a doubt.” The confidence and understanding Lily
developed was palpable. Furthermore, she envisioned her ability to call upon this newfound
understanding in the future. Lily solidified her understanding and recognized the future
implications. With newfound confidence, Lily trusted herself to call upon this knowledge.
Like Lily, Jane identified her curriculum’s application in a broader context. Jane’s
educational experience creating a curriculum had application to her overall studies. This
was evident in my field notes:

Jane [stated] in a clear and authoritative tone that what she did for this project, “can be
translated to other classes.” She then goes on to discuss how she came to realize this and
can envision a broader application and implementation.

Jane’s gained understanding from her curriculum illuminated its potential application in
other classes. While participant experiences varied, Trusting Self was central. This was
evident in participants’ preparation, execution, and self-reflection.

Connection to Others
Students considered their classmates’ understanding and connection to the curriculum.
These moments proved to be glimpses of a larger phenomenon: the third theme, a Connec-
tion to Others. This connection took many forms: a concern for classmates’ understanding,
incorporation of another’s curriculum, a concern for nurturing friendships, and considera-
tion of others’ personal experience.
A concern for fellow classmates’ understanding was evident in Lily’s curriculum devel-
opment and preparation. Lily intended to aid her classmates understanding by supporting
their perspective. “I want to make sure that they will understand what it is and grasp it
in their own sense.” Classmates’ gained understanding was facilitated through a personal
connection.
Lily’s attempt to foster a personal connection proved successful. Dean, a classmate, incor-
porated some of Lily’s curriculum into his own—thereby illustrating the power and impact
of students supporting one another. As Lily stated, “I was also happy to hear that Dean was
listening and engaged with my presentation; that he included what I presented within his
own presentation on a different topic in ear training.” Dean not only incorporated a class-
mate’s curriculum, but his actions illustrated the impact of Lily’s curriculum. Furthermore,
Lily received confirmation of her curriculum, which supported her understanding and
curricular approach.
This personal connection was not a singular occurrence. Dean made this clear when
discussing his approach to presenting his curriculum.

I talk to everybody in the class, and I really like everybody in the class. So I wanted to
make it more like presenting to a friend. So, like presenting to one of my close friends
sort of made that stick in my mind.
562  Jonathan McElroy
A connection with others was central to Dean’s curriculum. Therefore, he envisioned a
relaxed conversation with a friend.
Classmates considered others in different contexts, but ultimately the other was central
to students’ curriculum. Participants’ self-reflections demonstrated a concern for others—
thereby illustrating community, friendship, and empathy situated in creativity. As a result,
this illuminated curriculum construction aiding classmates’ gained understanding.

Discussion
Examination of the research question’s three subtopics in relation to the emergent themes
illuminated the impact of a student-centered curriculum. This provided evidence that stu-
dent inclusivity can foster a culturally relevant, rigorous, and engaging curriculum. Fur-
thermore, student experiences illustrated the varied forms of the teacher’s role. The title of
educator implies we are the teacher. However, curriculum developed and implemented by
undergraduate students exemplified students as the educator. This illustrated a paradigm shift
in the conception of curriculum development and implementation through a pedagogical
partnership between educator and student. This facilitated a creative teaching and learning
environment (Burnard, 2016). See Chapter 5 by Martin Fautley and Victoria Kinsella.

Culturally Relevant
Jack’s curriculum exemplified CRP as described by Ladson-Billings (1992) and Emdin (2016).

I thought it was interesting to talk about those 12 notes aren’t always true around the
world. If you travel, you’re going to be a little confused. If you hear it, it doesn’t sound
right, like it’s right to us but it might not be right to everyone. I just thought it would
be cool to put [it] in like a global perspective. Not just, this is us and our piano, and
these are the 12 notes.

Jack placed he and his classmates learning into a “global perspective.” This illustrated the
relevance and applicability of his topic beyond the classroom, and the need for this under-
standing throughout their lifetime. Jack’s curriculum suggested a continual learning process
through self-reflection in relation to others’ experiences. Like CRP, CSP, or RP, Jack’s
curriculum sought to engage and empower students through their own cultural context.

Rigorous
Students’ preparation, implementation, and self-reflection illuminated varying manifes-
tations of rigor. Defining rigor or a rigorous curriculum is highly subjective. However,
Dewey’s discussion of education provides a framework from which this discussion is based.
Dewey (1943, 1956) viewed education as growth—an open process based upon one’s past
experiences and beliefs with a continual revision of these beliefs and understanding. There-
fore, education is a continuous process of growth.
Lily’s self-reflection revealed the impact designing a curriculum had upon her
understanding:

I feel like I was just slightly better because I was able to go back to it, research it more,
solidify it in my head and then go teach it to the class. So it was like a little step further
in more understanding than I think it would be had I not done it.
 Students as the Educator  563
Lily’s circular research process to further solidify her understanding demonstrated the
growth to which Dewey (1943, 1956) spoke. This illustrated rigor stemming from educa-
tion as growth.
Dean described a similar self-reflective experience. He identified his curriculum as influ-
encing his continued growth outside the classroom.

I definitely think that I have thought about it more. And honestly, since I’ve been do-
ing that, I’ve been looking at a lot of other common progressions just like outside of it
[class]. Because I’ve been thinking, what else is there?

Creating a curriculum inspired Dean to continue a self-guided learning process outside the
classroom and expand upon what he learned.
Lily and Dean described self-guided learning continuing beyond the semester. Addition-
ally, their confidence in attending to this type of learning illustrated trust in themselves.
Their process was reminiscent of Dewey’s concept of growth being education. Growth as
education drove the student learning experience and demonstrated rigor in a curriculum
developed by its own participants.

Engaging
Discussion of an engaging curriculum is based upon Dewey’s (1943, 1956) education the-
ories. Like rigor, defining an engaging curriculum is subjective. However, considering
education as growth, and understanding that growth requires nourishment, it follows that
an engaging curriculum provides the necessary nourishment for growth.
Lily emphasized nurturing a connection with classmates by considering different learn-
ing styles. She considered “auditory, visual, and tactile learners” in her preparation.

I think hitting it in three different ways will be fine. Just kind of visually writing it,
talking about it, and then playing it, I think will be helpful. And then try to really grasp
the different learning techniques that students have, then the quiz can help them apply
it. I don’t think I’ll have problems getting it across. And then if anybody has questions,
I’ll find out where they are stuck. I’ll relate it back to how I learned, and then translate
it back and put it back into their thought process.

Lily’s curriculum centered others and demonstrated trust in her own abilities. An engaging
curriculum was evident as she sought to “get it across” and answer questions through inter-
pretation and “translat[ing]” it back to her classmates. Lily’s development illustrated growth
through an engaging curriculum.
Like Lily, Anne centered others in her curriculum. However, Anne considered her
classmates’ personal experience and how this may impact their education. “I just kind of
compared what I would think if I were somebody that didn’t have my own personal ex-
perience.” Anne had a close personal connection to her topic. But rather than assume her
classmates shared a similar sentiment, Anne considered their past experiences and how to
relate these to her curriculum. This demonstrated Anne’s commitment to engaging her
classmates when self-reflecting upon her curriculum. Anne simultaneously demonstrated
self-guided learning while caring for others.
Anne’s and Lily’s concern for others inspired a curriculum which centered classmates’
personal experiences and different learning preferences. This sentiment, coupled with a
desire to engage classmates to nurture and aid their education, revealed the significance
564  Jonathan McElroy
of this act. Engagement in one’s educational experience aims to stimulate growth, thereby
stimulating education. Anne and Lily took critical and thoughtful action to engage class-
mates to facilitate learning.

Outliers
Intertwining the themes and the research question’s three subtopics illustrated that a curric-
ulum of undergraduate students’ design can be culturally relevant, rigorous, and engaging.
Additionally, examining outliers pertinent to the three subtopics provided a deeper and
richer understanding of participants’ experiences.
Of the seven participants, one expressed interest outside Western European music prac-
tices. Regardless of the music praxis, each student related to their topic personally, socially,
culturally, racially, and historically. Students’ description of the creation and implementa-
tion of their curriculum illustrated CRP, CSP, or RP. Perception and realization of culture
informing one’s education varies within social, racial, and ethnic groups. This variation was
present in each student’s curriculum.
This curriculum exemplified rigor as evidenced by the continuous growth and encour-
agement in one’s education. Students described this growth when preparing, implementing,
and self-reflecting upon their curriculum. Anne’s description of her preparation provided a
different perspective of growth.

I didn’t really prepare for the stuff that I was going to say. I just kind of had the infor-
mation in my head. But when I got up in front of the class it just flowed naturally. I’m
pretty good at that. I was telling you that I don’t like to prepare all that much because
I feel like it messes me up.

Anne’s preparation consisted of self-reflection, knowing- and trusting-self, while allowing

her understanding to “flow naturally.” The curriculum’s rigor was evident in the concep-
tual, theoretical, and personal understanding/growth.
Engagement is necessary for educational growth. This can occur solo or with others.
Participants’ discussion points provided examples of both engagement types. However,
a “lack-of ” engagement described class expectations not being met, as opposed to a cur-
riculum’s shortcomings. Anne discussed this type of engagement during a portion of her
Student-Led Lesson.

I thought that the students would be a little more interactive because we are such a
small class. I feel like we are so in tune with each other, and of course I am friends with
a couple of them in class, I expected a little more reaction.

Anne’s perceived lack of engagement was based upon classmate expectations. These ex-
pectations resulted from existing friendships and a concern for connecting with others.
Anne’s reflection, however, illustrated how these expectations fluctuated. “I liked it, I had
fun engaging with the class and everything.” While engagement may have fallen below
expectations, it proved to be momentary.
The presence of these outliers suggests that students experience education on a gradi-
ent. Identifying this gradient provided a deeper and richer understanding of a student-­
developed curriculum. Furthermore, it illuminated the variation of educational growth
students experienced designing their curriculum.
 Students as the Educator  565
Conclusion
Undergraduate students centered in their education through developing a course’s curric-
ulum illuminated the potential of this holistic learning experience. This was evident in
learning experiences simultaneously informing and being informed by students’ unique self
expressed through creativity. Students’ curriculum demonstrated critical and self-reflection
intertwined with a concern for others. This illustrated music as praxis and creativity, in-
forming their learning experience and sense of self. Components of creativity, community,
empathy, and friendship intersected with students’ holistic growth—Thereby illustrating
the significance of education’s social nature. The overall learning experience described by
students was reflective of a “problem-posing” education situated in a praxial framework
(Elliott, 1995; Elliott & Silverman, 2015; Freire, 1970, 2000). Within this setting, students’
music curricular experiences exemplified Burnard’s (2012, 2013) “musical creativities” and
“performative forms of creativity in pedagogy”—insofar as they illuminated the intertwin-
ing of traditional with new and student-inspired teaching practices, and the role of creativ-
ity and its varying manifestations in curriculum development. “Multiple manifestations of
creativity arise across all music” (Burnard, 2012, p. 7). The creation and implementation of
music curriculum by students is but one example of the multiple possibilities of creativity
informing education. From this, a broadened perspective and understanding of creativity in
music education was illuminated as a transformative and continual pathway toward devel-
oping educational practices—specifically creativity as a component of learning rather than
an elusive experience reserved for few (Bennett et al., 2015).
The collected data reflected the inclusion of students/participants as co-researchers in a cur-
riculum’s design. Furthermore, centering participants’ voices in the findings provided first-
hand accounts and a deeper understanding of their educational experience. This revealed
students’ creative and embodied experience intersecting with their personal and educational
needs. Creativity as a way of being facilitated self-expression. As a result, students incorporated
their background and previous experiences in their curriculum. This was reflective of CRP,
CSP, or RP. This illustrated the impact of an education meeting students’ needs on their own
terms. Through creative self-expression, students participated in a holistic learning experience.
Findings presented in this study serve to add to the knowledge of undergraduate students’
educational experience—specifically students’ inclusion in curriculum development and
the role/impact of creativity facilitating learning. The gained knowledge from this study
proves to be transferable to other music education settings (Herr & Anderson, 2015). This
study sought to provide an opportunity for educators to reflect upon their practices and
suggest a pedagogy in which students have an integral role—specifically the illustration
of a pedagogical approach in which the integral role of students as educators facilitates
student-centered learning which intersects with the different manifestations of creativity.

Questions for Consideration

1 How can creativity be fostered within an individual or class while developing and im-
plementing a curriculum?
2 How do student expectations impact a curriculum in which they develop and lead?
3 Describe how students centered in the development of their own curriculum provide
the opportunity for an educative learning experience situated in praxis.
4 John Coltrane’s seminal recording Giant Steps highlighted a unique chord progression
that was present in earlier jazz standards. How can Coltrane’s reimagining parallel the
reimagining of how music educators develop curriculum?
566  Jonathan McElroy
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47 Creativity Development, Service-
Learning, and Spirituality in Music
Education
Alexander Koops

Introduction
How can spirituality, composition, and instrumental pedagogy fit soundly together in the
complex puzzle of the preservice music teacher curriculum? Can students with a histor-
ical bias toward viewing performance as the sole goal of music education change to a
philosophy that includes core values of creativity and service? College music education
instrumental techniques classes historically have focused solely on skill development and
performance, with less emphasis on pedagogy and little mention of music education phi-
losophy. In addition, techniques classes generally have no connections made to students’
belief systems and spirituality, since the focus is entirely on aspects of playing an instrument
correctly. Throughout my career, I have purposefully brought together aspects of my faith
and my music education philosophy and tried to incorporate them into my teaching, regu-
larly focusing on service-learning (SL). Faith integration is an aspect of spirituality that is an
underlying expectation of faculty at many Christian educational institutions and involves
incorporating spiritual beliefs into academic disciplines and work practices in ways that
reflect deep connections between faith, academics, and work.
As a professor at a Christian institution, it was a natural progression for me to design a
research study to explore the concepts of spirituality, SL, and academic learning (AL) in
order to deepen students’ connections to the real world of teaching grounded in the context
of their philosophy and belief systems. What is new here is a focus on the creativity of mu-
sic composition as a way to connect and embody each of these aspects of music education.
Participating college students created original music for themselves to perform on their class
techniques instrument and then were challenged to lead beginning band students in com-
position lessons. David Elliot (Ch. 2, “Toward an Embodied Concept of Creativity”) em-
phasizes the physical and experiential side of creativity and music-making. By developing
their own compositions through playing and improvising on their techniques instruments,
students had an “embodied” experience of creativity that is unique from either notating
an idea on paper or creating a digital composition (also valuable, but different ways of ex-
periencing diverse creativities). Additionally, the spiritual aspect was “embodied” through
the act of improvising and composing on their instruments when students could view their
service and creativity as a spiritual act. During SMERS XIII Lauren Kapalka Richerme
noted that we learn language by speaking, suggesting “music-making” can benefit from
foregrounding a more natural process rather than concepts (SMERS XIII chat January
27, 2021). Music composition pedagogy can benefit from this concept of embodying the
process and then applying that process in an actual teaching scenario with beginning band
students.
Christians believe that human beings are made in God’s image on the basis of Bible scrip-
tures, in particular Genesis 1:27, which says “So God created mankind in his own image, in
the image of God he created them…” (NIV). When contemplating core aspects of God, the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-54
 Spirituality, Service-Learning, and Academic Learning  569
concept of his incomparable creativity stands out, and various philosophers have tied these
concepts together such as Schaeffer (1972) who emphasizes this in his book, He Is There and
He Is Not Silent:

I live in a thought world which is filled with creativity; inside my head, there is creative
imagination. Why? Because God, who is the Creator, has made me in His own image,
I can go out in imagination beyond the stars.
(1972, p. 85)

Schaeffer (1972) emphasizes that all people are made by God to be creative (p. 85). In ad-
dition to this spiritual understanding of the inherent creativity of humans, the National
Core Arts Standards in the United States, and music education researchers and practitioners
around the world emphasize the value and importance of including creativity in all music
classes (Kaschub & Smith, 2009; Koops, 2009; Riley, 2006; Taft, 2019; Webster, 2016).
Here it is important to define what creativity is and is not, and to note there are mul-
tiple creativities associated with music education. Burnard (2012) emphasizes that there is
“the need for conceptual expansion of musical creativity, to become a plural expression
of musical creativities as being distributed and relayed between subjects and objects across
cultural-historical time” (p. 2). While musicians are regularly making creative decisions
about elements of music including phrasing, dynamics, and tempo in any given perfor-
mance, this is not to be confused with creativity as studied in this project, which focuses
on original composition and improvisation. Burnard (2012) explains that the creativity of
composing can include individual and collaborative, cultural and inter-cultural, as well
as audience-generated composition. This project emphasized individual and collaborative
composition but drew on the other types as well. Crawford’s (2016) definition of creativity
offers a key view of the expectations of creativity in this project: “the generation of a prod-
uct that is judged to be novel and also to be appropriate, useful, or valuable by a suitably
knowledgeable social group” (p. 7).
While creativity in this music education setting was introduced as a set of three individ-
ual composition assignments for the college students, the research project was designed so
that the composition assignments served as models for the music education students to apply
to their SL settings. Service to others has been an integral part of Christian philosophy as
can be seen in passages like Matthew 25:40 (NIV) says “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell
you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did
for me.’” Both educational research (Schaffer, 2004; Warren, 2012) and music education
research (Barnes, 2002; Conway, 2012; Legette, 2018) strongly support and advocate for SL
and secular and Christian schools alike have incorporated SL as an integral part of prepar-
ing students to be competent in their future careers. The purpose of the research project
featured in this chapter was to incorporate the creativity of composition in music teaching,
as an aspect of spirituality, SL, and AL in music education instrument techniques classes at
a private Christian university.

Problem and Purpose

While music-making is a fairly unique aspect of being human, and many assume it is
naturally a creative activity, music teachers frequently fall into the trap of focusing only
on performance, which might or might not include performance creativity and does not
include original composition creativity. Modern Western culture places a high emphasis on
performance, and school music students are expected to play frequently at public events,
competitions, and concerts. Not surprisingly, developing students’ creativity can easily be
570  Alexander Koops
neglected. The fact that many music teachers do not include much if any composition and
improvisation can be partly attributed to the lack of creative experience these teachers
had themselves in K-12 as they were growing up, as well as the void of creativity training
in undergraduate music education programs, not to mention a lack of training materials
and resources. Burnard (2012) also points out that creativity in Western cultures has been
associated with the “romantic stereotypes of the creator as individual genius”(p. 2) which
suggests creativity is not for the regular student in any music education setting, but rather
reserved for that one special student who only appears once in a great while.
In addition to the problem of a lack of creativity in music education at large, there is
a minimal amount of writing and research in the area of spirituality in music education.
Considering the National Standards as well as the faith-based grounding that humans are
made to be creative, I believe composition and improvisation should be part of the core
of all music education programs. Viewing creativity as essential because it is part of one’s
belief system can lead preservice music students to understand how their faith connects to
their professional career at a deep level, and not only inspire their teaching, but also lead to
a more intimate relationship with God.
While the focus on creativity as a spiritual connection may be more recent, the idea of ser-
vice has always been an important aspect of Christianity, and SL has been an invaluable part
of many secular as well as religious educational programs. The purpose of this research was
to explore how spirituality could be incorporated along with SL and academic learning in
music education techniques classes to deepen students’ understanding of the subject and how
the subject of music teaching connects to their faith. In this project, a special focus was given
to composition projects in the college coursework while at the same time working with be-
ginning band students where the college composition lessons could have a potential transfer.
The student primary learning outcomes for the techniques classes were that by the end of
the course, students would be able to accomplish the traditional performance expectations
including playing scales, etudes, and solos, but also demonstrate the ability to think, feel,
and act creatively using available music materials in a real classroom setting. An additional
learning outcome of being able to write compositions and custom arrangements appropriate
for beginning-level instrumentalists was added to the syllabus. These SLOs were related to
strengthening the creativity of both the university students and the SL school students.

Research Questions
This project focused on three questions connecting spirituality and SL with AL. First, how
can SL and spirituality be implemented together in a music education techniques course?
Second, how does the inclusion of faith-based SL help students grow in academic knowl-
edge, beliefs, disposition, character, and desire for action? And third, how can the course
changes be used to help other faculty members in the field of music education use SL and
spirituality to help students better understand the course content?

Literature Review
Research and writing related to SL, spirituality, and creativity in music education exist
in both secular and faith-based literature. SL research includes significant writings from a
Christian perspective but also some valuable public school music education research studies.
Literature on spirituality expectedly abounds from a Christian point of view, but there are
also scholarship examples from secular music education publications that address spirituality
in a general way. Finally, creativity in relationship to spirituality is examined, followed by
writings on creativity in music education in general.
 Spirituality, Service-Learning, and Academic Learning  571
Service-Learning in Music Education
A significant amount of research in both music education and education, in general, has
highlighted the value of SL for AL (Barnes, 2002; Conway, 2012; Legett, 2018; Schaffer,
2004; Warren, 2012). From a secular perspective, Warren (2012) provided significant evi-
dence that SL increased overall student learning, while reviewing Biblical perspectives, an
example of a call to service can be found in Matthew 20:27–28 where Jesus says “… and
whoever wants to be first must be your slave, just as the Son of Man did not come to be
served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (NIV). The general religious
call to service can be acted out by preservice music teachers through helping out in local
K-12 settings, which simultaneously results in gaining hands-on experience for their future
careers. Schaffer (2004) researched SL in Christian higher education and found strong con-
nections between SL and the mission of Christian colleges and universities:

The faith-based mission of service gives Christian institutions not only the freedom,
but also the obligation, to engage their students in academic development and spiritual,
emotional, and moral growth. Service-learning is a tool that can facilitate this process
while engaging in Christ’s command to serve.
(p. 143)

The combination of literature from across diverse disciplines widely supports how SL ac-
tivities can be a powerful catalyst for preparing students for their future careers, whether
sacred or secular in nature.

Spirituality in Music Education

Spirituality has been explored a number of times in the field of music education in the last
20 years (Heuser, 2016; Van der Merwe & Habron, 2015; Yob, 2011). The 2021 Suncoast
Music Education Research Conference (SMERS XIII) included spirituality in its call for
presentations and a few presenters did address the topic. Gareth Dylan Smith’s Chapter 40
touches on the concept from a secular point of view, and Leonard Tan and Mengchen Lu in
Chapter 2 from a Confucian perspective.
Many Christian educators have sought ways to integrate their beliefs with their work to
create a deeper understanding of both their faith and their daily life (Best, 2003; Smith,
2009). Hasker (1991) wrote extensively on Christian spirituality in educational settings
and explained that faith can and must be integrated into all disciplines by educators, even
though the connections may not be as clear in some disciplines. Best (2003) believes all
work and life should be viewed and experienced as a continuous act of worship.
A few authors have addressed spirituality specifically in a music education context such
as Jose de Burgo (1993) who discussed repertoire choice as a primary method of con-
necting spirituality and AL. Cummings (2007) theorized that even secular instrumental
masterworks can have a spiritual impact on students and audiences, and used Messiaenne’s
musical masterpiece, Quartet for the End of Time, as an example suggesting that even music
“without text manifests the character and power of God simply through its form, and there-
fore exists as a tool to lead others to the Creator” (p. 5). Cummings ties into the historical
context of the quartet being premiered in a Nazi prison camp where Messiaenne’s music
“communicated to his fellow prisoners that the world was ultimately God’s, not the Nazis’
and that every human hope has a legitimate basis in God’s rule” (p. 5). Dr. Peter Webster’s
presentation (Ch. 4) also features the importance of Messiaenne’s quartet as a spiritual and
creative act.
572  Alexander Koops
Creativity and Spirituality
Several theologians, musicians, and artists have examined spirituality and creativity (Beg-
bie, 2007; Fujimura, 2017; Hart, 2015; Liesch & Finley, 1984), though none have directly
connected creativity, spirituality, and music education. Writings by Martin (2012), a
Church pastor and artist suggest people may grow in their spiritual understanding through
the experience of creating art. Theology and music are completely different disciplines, yet
there are a few scholars who have specialized in both. Hart (2015), emphasized that God’s
creativity and character leads, encourages, and inspires all humans to be creative. Begbie
(2018) emphasizes the arts are capable of teaching us much about theology and points out
extensive ideas on how J. S. Bach’s compositions can be used to help us understand theol-
ogy, God, and God’s creativity.
Fujimura (2017) presents painters, musicians, and other creative people as “God’s artists”
(p. 27), who can find their creative identity in God because they are made in God’s image.
He stressed that “culture care is everyone’s business” (p. 27), similarly to Crouch (2008)
who emphasizes Christians should all be “creative cultivators” (p. 22) based on Genesis 1
where the Bible states humans are made in the image of God, and given the task of stew-
arding the land and every living creature. Crouch (2008) explains that “The God we meet
in these verses, so unlike the alternative gods on offer in the ancient Near East, is, first of
all, a source of limitless, extraordinary creativity” (p. 21).

Creativity in Music Education

Music education research in various types of creativity has accelerated in recent years, in-
cluding the area of the current project focused on instrumental music education (Colon,
2020; Doiron, 2019; Fleischmann, 2020; Hopkins, 2015; Koops, 2009; Sindberg, 2016,
2019; Wilke, 2019), possibly influenced by the publication of the new National Core Arts
Standards (2014) as well as broader public views of the value of creativity in all disciplines
(Gray, 2016). Sindberg (2016) completed research titled “The band project” in which pre-
service music teachers offered weekly help to young band students in an SL situation with a
curriculum design that included improvisation and composition. Sindberg (2016) concluded
that the SL experience provided significant assets for the preservice teachers, but also sug-
gested that other music teachers who were interested in developing ways to include improv-
isation and composition could use ideas from this project as a starting point. An increasing
body of research and practice is accumulating that includes philosophy, curriculum, tech-
nology, assessment, and more in a multitude of topics under the umbrella of music creativity.

Method
This project examined SL and spirituality in the context of AL using the research method-
ology called Scholarship of Teaching and Learning (SoTL) developed from Kreber (2007).
Tight (2018) further promoted SoTL research and suggested teachers could use it for

the improvement of their teaching so as to improve their students’ learning, and on

sharing their practices widely with others so as to advance the status and practice of
teaching and learning in their discipline and in higher education in general.
(p. 64)

Based on SoTL, this project was designed to increase the preparation and effectiveness of
preservice music teachers by incorporating composition projects into the class syllabus and
 Spirituality, Service-Learning, and Academic Learning  573
connecting those with SL and spirituality, as well as sharing these ideas with other teachers.
The research questions for this study focused on how SL and spirituality could be imple-
mented together in an instrumental techniques course, with a specific emphasis on compo-
sition as a tool for developing creativity in both the college students and the students in the
SL classrooms. Simultaneously, composition was presented as a way for students to connect
with their spiritual beliefs of being made in God’s image.

Course Description
This project focused on a woodwind and a brass techniques class which were offered for
two hours per week on campus in a traditional class format, while a third hour (once per
week) was scheduled off-campus in several local beginning band classes. In addition to the
usual performance requirements of scales, etudes, and solos, the preservice music teachers
were expected to be able to think, feel, and act creatively with available music materials
in a real classroom setting. Three short composition assignments and one final arranging
assignment supported the outcome of acting creatively in a real classroom setting, as well
as developing creativity in the participating college students. One short reading assignment
with a reflective essay response was given in the middle of the semester using Crouch’s
(2017) article Skillful Culture Making, in which five important concepts for developing
creativity are recommended.

Service-Learning Components
In this project, college music education majors enrolled in brass and woodwind tech-
niques courses (n = 17) participated in a required SL project helping teach sixth-grade
band students at four different schools in two different districts. Following the examples of
previous research (Legette, 2018; Sindberg, 2016), university students performed on their
techniques instruments alongside the middle school band students, building their required
academic technical playing skills, but also learning pedagogical concepts by observing
the local music teachers. In addition, the university students lead sectionals and taught
composition lessons which was a benefit to the middle school band students as well as the
local music teachers.

Spiritual Components
The spiritual components of the research included a short presentation and questionnaire at
the start of the semester where students reflected both in writing and verbally about their
ideas about incorporating their faith into their music education and teaching. During the
initial presentation, I shared Matthew 25:40 “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of
the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (NIV), to frame the impor-
tance of serving our community and how we had an opportunity to make a difference in
the lives of the local middle school students. I also introduced Best’s (2003) concept that
our whole lives can be viewed as an act of worship to God, not just our songs or worship
services. I ended the class by presenting the concept that human beings are made in the
image of God from Genesis 1, and that God’s creativity is something built into all people. I
combined that message with Psalm 149 “Sing a new song to the Lord” (NIV), and Crouch’s
(2008) call for Christians to be culture creators, not just passive consumers. I invited the
university students to think about how they could nurture their own creativity as well as
incorporate composition and improvisation into their teaching in the weekly SL settings,
alongside being role models for the SL sixth-grade band students.
574  Alexander Koops
To build on the initial presentation showing that humans are all made in God’s
image to be creative, students completed three individual composition projects based on
Koops’s (2009) field-tested lessons. These assignments provided concrete examples of crea-
tive lessons that could be used with young band students, while simultaneously developing
the college students’ creativity. The composition lessons included composing a warm-up for
their techniques instrument, composing a piece based on a rhythm from life (such as a train
going down the railroad tracks), and a composition based on food names used to construct
ostinatos (see Koops and Whitener, 2020). With the permission and support of the local
teachers, I taught the food ostinato composition lesson at each of the local middle schools in
a collaborative group composition approach so the college students could have a model to
start from as they were challenged to incorporate composition and improvisation into their
SL teaching opportunities.

Academic Content
The techniques courses included the traditional music education expectations of learning
to play brass (trumpet and trombone) and woodwinds (flute, clarinet, and saxophone) to a
middle school level, as well as learning core pedagogical concepts for teaching those instru-
ments. The preservice teachers were encouraged to apply the content they were learning
in the SL settings. The academic requirements also included the three composition assign-
ments and a final arranging/composition project which involved creating a one-minute
piece that was either a new arrangement of a famous Christmas carol or an original com-
position at the level of the sixth-grade beginning band students. This culminating project
encompasses all aspects of the course work by requiring students to show an understanding
of what ranges and technical playing abilities are appropriate for sixth-grade band students,
as well as showing creativity development.

Data Collection and Analysis

Data for this project were collected through SL surveys and student journal reflections
on the topic of their weekly middle school band experiences. Additional data came from
the required reading-reflection assignment on Crouch (2017) and an end-of-the-semester
group discussion about the SL experience, as well as the university course evaluations (an
end-of-course Individual Development Educational Assessment (IDEA) electronic assess-
ment survey). A final point of data included the local teachers’ reflections and comments
about the college students.
The survey results, reflective journals, IDEA evaluations, reading reflection, and discus-
sions were analyzed and categorized by how they related to the research questions for this
project. In particular, concepts relating to ways that this faith-based service-learning (FLA)
plan helped students grow in their academic knowledge, beliefs, disposition, character, and
desire for action were targeted.

Results
The results of this research are presented in four sections, chronologically, beginning with
the results from the preliminary SL survey, and the weekly journal reflections. The second
section features the written reflections on Crouch’s (2017) article, while the third section
features the Final Group Interview and Reflection. The final section includes results from
the service-learning survey given at the end of the semester as well as the student IDEA
course evaluations.
 Spirituality, Service-Learning, and Academic Learning  575
Preliminary Service-Learning Surveys and Weekly Journal Reflections
Student responses on the preliminary SL survey were generally positive and showed a basic
understanding of the SL concept. The weekly journal reflections were coded and catego-
rized into three main areas: (a) academic knowledge and application in SL; (b) dispositions
(qualities of character and mind, such as flexibility, openness and respect for the ideas and
work of others, reflectivity, and empathy); and (c) creativity and composing.

Academic Knowledge and Application

Students regularly shared stories about how they were able to directly apply things from
their university techniques courses into their SL settings. One typical example of how
the college students validated their academic learning at the beginning of the semester
was a student who shared that “I helped the students correctly assemble their instruments,
[showed them] how to properly hold their instruments, and how to play a concert Bb.”
Interestingly, one of the college students commented on learning how to play certain notes
from a middle school student: “The [middle school] students helped me out with notes that
I had not learned yet. I believe this opportunity for the students to teach me strengthened
their knowledge of the instrument.”

Dispositions
During the course of the semester, many college students commented on classroom events
related directly to dispositions, which, in the field of music education, refers to personal
qualities such as empathy, caring, self-reflection, and overall musical knowledge; two of
the most highly regarded dispositions are reflectivity and caring (Woody, Gilbert, & Laird,
2018). One student journaled that she had gained new insights on how to care for her future
students from an exemplary local teacher:

[The] effort of the instructor to learn all their names by having them make nametags
and engaging with them in ways that make students feel like they are not just another
one of his students, but rather, seen and known for what they want to learn was awe-
some to watch. I noticed lots of teaching mechanisms that I can take away from today,
but I do think it starts with relationships and that’s mostly what drew my attention.

A different student commented about classroom management, while yet another one
stressed the importance of showing care and empathy to special needs students.

Creativity and Composing

A final area that emerged from the students’ reflections during the semester was creativity,
and, specifically, reflections on teaching composing. Around the middle of the semester,
I visited each of the SL schools and guest taught a short group collaborative composition
lesson while the college students helped out. Student C reflected:

I was afraid that the students in my group would not listen to me, but I found that the
more excited I seemed about the lesson, the more excited they would be too. We had
fun coming up with ideas for food [in this composition lesson participating students use
the rhythms created from speaking food names as the basis for a music composition],
and we went with two foods they really liked: quesadillas and tamales.
576  Alexander Koops
A different student offered a correspondingly fervent reflection:

[This] was by far my favorite week of teaching .… Dr. Koops came in to teach the stu-
dents a composition lesson. At the beginning of the lesson, I was quite skeptical of how
effective it would be.... However, they really enjoyed learning and were fully engaged in
class .… We all broke into sectionals to create our own rhythm. I took the trombones,
and we came up with rhythms based on Hot Cheetos, Hot Pockets, and Brownies.
(Student D)

Article Reflection – Crouch (2017)

The student reflections on Crouch’s (2017) article, Skillful Culture Making, offered docu-
mentation on how spirituality and SL could fit together in this course. Responses included
a willingness to take risks and perhaps fail, the benefits gained to both partners and com-
munity, the development of their patience, and the role of being purposeful as their top
takeaways. One student offered an insightful response on the idea of creativity requiring
risk, and that without risk-taking, “we may never reach the full potential that God has
created us with.”

Final Group Interview and Reflection

The third source of data in this project that showed evidence of students connecting SL and
spirituality to enhance their academic experience was the transcription of the final group
interview and students’ reflection on the semester-long course. Students discussed concepts
related to specific instrumental techniques as well as dispositions and creativity. A number
of college students shared how the experience of witnessing the composition lessons engage
the middle school students helped them see the value of adding composition in their own
future teaching.

Final Service-Learning Survey and Student IDEA Course Evaluations

The final source of data included the final SL survey and the student IDEA course evalu-
ations. The majority of responses on the SL survey affirmed that students believed having
real-life teaching experiences was a huge asset for their future careers, confirming they
were making the connections between their academic classwork and their plans to become
music teachers in the future. The IDEA course evaluation form offered by the university
showed multiple points of evidence supporting the value of the SL and composition lessons.
For example, students’ evaluations were “sometimes” or “almost always” in the areas of
“real-life situations” and “hands-on projects” as well as two categories related to creativity:
(1) projects that required original creative thinking and (2) developing creative thinking.

Discussion
This project explored ways in which spirituality and SL could be embedded with academic
learning in instrumental techniques classes, as well as how spirituality and SL could help
students grow in academic knowledge, character, beliefs, disposition, and desire for action.
Particular attention was given to composition in the coursework and how that could be
transferred to the SL experience. Similarly to other research (Barnes, 2002; Conway, 2012;
Legett, 2018; Sindberg, 2020), the preservice teachers in this project regularly noted that
their SL experience was valuable in preparing them to be future teachers.
 Spirituality, Service-Learning, and Academic Learning  577
Incorporating individual composition assignments into the techniques classes went well,
but the model collaborative composition teaching I did in the middle school band classes
turned out to be a key element that helped the college students see how middle school
students engaged in the creative process. The final project for the techniques class involved
producing a creative arrangement of a Christmas tune or composing an original work at
the ability level of the sixth-grade students. This final assignment documented that the
college students understood the musical instrument ranges and ability of beginning-level
players and that they had developed in their own personal creativity over the course of the
semester.
Regarding the area of developing dispositions and character, students did underscore the
theme of caring and relationships, in terms of seeing the local teachers caring for students, as
well as the college students taking actions to show caring for the local students. This desire
for action, consistent with the reading from Crouch that challenged students to take risks,
emerged as a theme and positive result of this project. The reflections of the students in this
project suggested they had gained a deeper commitment to making a difference in the lives
of their SL students and a sense of purposefulness in their own lives.
The focus on the creativity of individual and collaborative composition as part of the
AL and the SL made this project unique because it was founded on the idea that teachers
have a responsibility to include creativity in their teaching based on the spiritual belief that
humans are made in God’s image to be creative. It was also unique in developing college
students’ creative voices by using composition lessons that the college students completed
themselves, but which could then be transferred for use in middle school instrumental en-
semble settings. By embodying the process of composing on their techniques instruments
and then applying that to a real-life situation, students were able to experience learning in
meaningful ways that changed their perspectives on creativity in music education as well
as their understanding of what it could mean to integrate one’s spiritual beliefs into one’s
teaching work. Figure 47.1 shows a visualization of the transformation of students’ thoughts
from considering AL, spirituality, creativity, and SL as isolated ideas or activities to a place
where they experience them as an integrated whole. In the past, students have regularly
connected SL with spirituality due to the long-term emphasis on service from religious

Figure 47.1  Model of the relationship of academic learning and spiritual learning.
578  Alexander Koops
institutions and the Bible. After the current project, students were able to expand from see-
ing SL as an act of service and spiritual duty, to seeing SL as a way that strengthened their
teaching and incorporated their beliefs into their daily lives.

Recommendations for Practice

This music education project was innovative in the way it brought together spirituality, SL,
and AL with an emphasis on creativity. The results contribute to an ever-increasing body of
literature that supports SL as a worthy activity for any preservice music education program
(Barnes, 2002; Conway, 2012; Legett, 2018; Singberg, 2020), as well as being an example
of how to incorporate music composition (Randles, 2010, 2012) into the preservice music
teacher curriculum. In the area of composition in music education, the data from this project
add to previous research in music teacher training that suggests why and how every music
teacher can and should be incorporating composition and improvisation as a part of the music
curriculum, regardless of grade level or specialization (Hickey, 2012; Koops, 2009; Riley,
2006; Sindberg, 2016, 2020; Taft, 2019). College students were shown to benefit from seeing
exemplary models of composition projects and creating music compositions themselves be-
fore trying to teach younger students composition. It would be valuable to repeat this project
with more emphasis on collaborative composition as has been promoted by other teachers
and researchers such as Waddington-Jones, King, and Burnard (2019) in their article Exploring
Wellbeing and Creativity Through Collaborative Composition as Part of Hull 2017 City of Culture.
While the current research adds support to previous research on SL and creativity such as
Sindberg’s (2020) project, the aspect of requiring the SL as a significant part of the course
work and incorporating spirituality was new and should be explored more. Learning how
humans can be seen as made in God’s image to be creators, and developing diverse creativ-
ities in my music education course work is a profound journey I will continue with future
students. Finding alignment between the National Core Arts Standards and my Christian
faith has resulted in a deep (and ongoing) learning experience both personally and for my
music education students. This learning extends beyond the basic pedagogical elements of
an assigned instrument and hopefully will be part of the transformative power of education
through the process of creativity in the music classroom.

Questions for Consideration

1 Is it necessary to experience composing for oneself, in order to be able to teach your
students/future students how to compose?
2 How does spirituality connect with creativity in your life and work?
3 Could you think of a collaborative composition project to work on with your students?
4 What types of creativities beyond individual composing might be brought into the
college music education instrumental techniques classes or 5–12 instrumental ensemble
classes?
5 Does creating reveal anything about spirituality to you or your students?

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48 Reconfiguring the Future of Music
Education through Pluralism,
Openness and Authorship of New
Creativities
Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles

Why Pluralism, Openness and Authorship of New Creativities

Matter in Music Education
It matters how we define concepts we think and act with. It matters how we un/en/fold
ourselves with concepts and where and how we travel with them. It matters how we view
the multiple cultural obligations and practices of multiple creativities that co-constitute
music and bring new musics into being. It matters how we use or put concepts to work.
At the centre of the argument of the authors in this volume is that diverse creativities can
unlock new practices by inspiring the production and negotiation of change in music educa-
tion. This requires an openness to co-authoring new creativities. This prompts a pluralism
in the terrain of music education, bringing into its orbit multiple types of creativity in and
beyond the classroom and making them available for assessment.
Change in music education is seen as critical since the pace of change in the world
in which we live necessitates ‘doing things differently’, using diverse creativities to au-
thor change and achieve ‘new normals’. Musicians and music educators are being called to
make greater use of research to inspire change and to co-create ways to unlock research
together to co-author change. These iterative unfoldings and seeded meshings of innova-
tive ­research-informed change-making practices demand a radical break—or at least an
accelerated change—in ways of thinking about diverse creativities in music education. This
requires more than ‘tinkering’ with our professional practices but rather rethinking and
transforming our music education systems. How can we manifest diverse creativities in our
own musical lives and work? What are the different ways of being creative musicians and
of communicating how we write ourselves, read ourselves and author acts of diverse cre-
ativities in our work as music educators? What matters? How can creativities be authored
differently? What else becomes visible, possible, that at first we couldn’t see? In this ending
chapter, we offer a beginning.
In all of the chapters, the contributing authors have invited readers to co-author and
assert the importance of diverse creativities. Recognising the pluralism of creativities may
challenge the reader to co-author new pathways and partnerships, problematising new ar-
ticulations of a diversity of new creativities. Here we invite you to meddle/muck about/
riff/play around/mess with and co-author anew ways of re-imagining creativities, shifting
away from the stubborn remnants of outmoded definitions of creativity. Here we invite
you to contemplate a radical pluralism of creativities as an iterative (re)configuring of dif-
ferentiated types which offers a renewed ethos of music education. To resist the pressures of
particular dominant discourses that block new authorings of learner, educator, pedagogic
practice, school curricula, assessment and leadership, we invite new solution finding. We
invite you—as a collaborator in this journey—to co-author new connections through this
companion. In ending with an invitation to attune to pluralism, openness and authorings,
we offer a new beginning.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248194-55
582  Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles
A Break from Singularity: Towards the Infinite
When we diversify and pluralise creativities, the whole panoply of what we usually see in
music education practices is displaced. Fostering multiple creativities should play a central
role in any commitment to music education futures because a future-making education is a
widening out of possibilities for appraising and attending to our presence and our purpose
in the world. This calls for different kinds of creativity, however, wholly different from
the kind coveted in earlier centuries. Pre-Enlightenment associations with the concept
of ‘creativity’ referred to ‘god’ or the god principle, the divine aspect, god as creator, a
god impulse. Throughout the Renaissance, ‘creativity’ became a characteristic of ‘great
men’, not as conduits for the divine but as ‘geniuses’ themselves. The origins of creativity
scholarship, emerging from philosophy, psychology, aesthetics and other fields, carried a
humanist focus until after the Renaissance, as it slowly turned towards the multiple nexus
of ­creativity-aesthetics-imagination (Craft, 2015). More recently, a focus on the value gen-
erated by creativity has moved the rhetoric of creativity from economic and social goods,
to secure democratic and political capital in the Imagination Age. The focus has also shifted
from the romantic lone genius as the source of creativity to an era defined by constant in-
novation which is technologically and creatively more-than-human (Burnard & Colucci-
Gray, 2020). While the ability to think and act creatively is recognised as an educational
imperative, it is also one of the core competencies recognised—in and through research—
by proponents of 21st-century (future-making) education (Harris, 2016). This is producing
educators who think differently and more critically about education systems and movement
makers who initiate change in how we educate the next generation. This remaking and
re-seeing requires an openness to the plurality of new creativities in motion, so that we
might materialise the possibilities for future-making music education.
Longstanding creativities research provides evidence of the many different pathways
needed to mitigate and manage the economic, social and cultural contingencies that con-
tinue to make teachers feel constrained, such as the culture of accountability in music educa-
tion. This is where these different creativities matter as seeded sets of points and positions for
realising transformational change. This is how new creativities open us up and set in motion
the possibilities for co-authorship and co-design. This is why co-creating ways to unlock
research together is inspiring and inspires change by mutually connecting with what chil-
dren, families and their communities need to flourish in their lives, along with what educa-
tors need to thrive in their profession. Thus, this volume offers ways for thinking through
and framing new ways in which educating for diverse creativities—for both learners and
­educators—offers hope for a bold new agenda of change in and through music education.
The idea of ‘multiple creativities’ is not new. Howard Gardner (1983) proposed a theory
of multiple intelligences which has been applied to creativities. In this theory, creativities
can be bounded by subject disciplines, but also engender different practices in and across
the interrelationships between sciences and arts. For example, where creatives often relied
on different intelligences to manifest their creativity, where, for example, Jane Austen,
Virginia Woolf, Maya Angelou and T. S. Eliot made their reputation through linguistic
intelligence and language creativity, they also opened new paths that intersected with lit-
erary creativity. Ada Lovelace, Katherine Johnson and Albert Einstein developed processes
of reciprocal capture in mathematical creativity through logical-mathematical intelligence.
Similarly, Hildegard von Bingen, Amy Beach, Clara Schumann and Igor Stravinsky be-
came famous through the combination and fusing of their musical intelligence and musical
creativity (Gardner, 1983).
From this premise, the plurality of creativities (rather than the outmoded singular no-
tion of creativity) addresses a performative space (rather than a representational space) and
 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education  583
acknowledges different and diverse enactments. These are both emerging and continu-
ously re-made through material enactments, which are authored together (co-authored) by
teachers and children.

Creativities We Live By: Co-authoring Change

In this volume we have invited you to ask yourself where, how and when you have been
inspired to author (and/or co-author) new practices that expand the possibility of what a
life can be. You may have come up with new ideas, actions, ways of doing, thinking and
being created around your own unique perspective and experience. Whether as a learner
or player/performer, music educator or member of any professional learning community,
you may have performed change (individually and/or collaboratively) through designing,
experimenting and co-authoring new practices. Here we invite readers to consider what
new creativities look like and how they might inspire ways of co-authoring change through
storying examples of performance creativity, improvisational creativity, compositional cre-
ativity, songwriting creativity, listening creativity, intercultural creativity, interdisciplinary
creativity, curricula creativity, everyday creativity, transdisciplinary creativity, leadership
creativity, pedagogic creativity, collaborative creativity, collective creativity or assessment
creativity. In Figure 48.1 we have illustrated the diverse creativities found in this book as
seeds, each of which has endless possibilities for bringing about transformational change.
In this volume, contributing authors have invited readers to challenge stasis in our prac-
tice. Through a pivotal juncture of climate change and global health crises, the generative
flux of challenges to normative educational modalities has intensified. These challenges
include shifting and blurring divisions between subject areas, the need to actively engage
all pupils in blended face-to-face and online learning, the widening gaps of inequality, and
the necessity of rethinking the very structures and routines of music education.

• How can music educators and their learning communities decide together what and
whom they are capable of becoming and re-invent themselves through diverse creativ-
ities to empower social, cultural and environmental changes and sustainability?
• How can music educators and their learning communities transcend the negativity
of fake news, the force that is social media, and the onslaught on democracy that is
silencing people?
• How can music educators and their learning communities forge new pathways for their
students, for themselves and the communities they serve?

These are imperatives that pervade all contemporary music educational discourse. These
are the imperatives which fuel the unique opportunities arising from sculpting new crea-
tivities in music education.

Figure 48.1  Multiple and diverse creativities as seeds of change.

584  Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles
So, we ask, what changes might help to diversify and sculpt new creativities as seeds for
change? How might new creativities open up the space and time for unlocking research
and inspiring change in music education? How does ‘sculpting’ speak to the performative
agenda of new creativities, which requires shaping and moulding new and reimagined prac-
tices in music education? And, importantly, given this amazing opportunity to decide to-
gether, what do learning communities need to initiate new pathways for ecological change
in and reforming of music education?

Creativities We Teach By: Co-authoring Change

The idea of music educators reflexively intra-acting creatively and explicitly disrupting the
status quo was featured in many chapters in this volume (see Chapters 4, 23, 24, 25, 27,
33, 44). Some of the most influential research informing and transforming creativities in
education includes the work of Anna Craft (2015). Her work invites teachers to seek in-
novative ways to shape the curriculum in response to learners’ needs. She introduces new
understandings of how teaching for creativity and teaching creatively manifest differently.
Importantly, she argues that we need ‘possibility thinking’ when we consider how creativ-
ities enable us to push back against the time-limited boundaries of a programme and the
linear nature of professional development.
Contributing authors also reflect on the extensive research conducted on creative teach-
ing and creative learning (see Chapters 1, 6, 10, 11, 13, 19, 20, 22, 28, 29, 30, 36, 45, 46, 47,
48). This research examines features of a creative pedagogical stance and creative curricula
in music education and the need to engage learners differently, in both individualised and
collaborative creativities (see Chapters 6, 10, 13, 45, 46).
Then there is the idea of creativity emerging from an interactive network of creative
agents, where creativity is no longer vested in an individual and exercised through a chain
of command that runs the traditional model of authoring something new. Rather, it is the
product of a dynamic and interactive process of collaboration (see Chapters 1, 4, 23, 25).
These diverse creativities offer a widening of the possibilities for re-seeing and rethinking,
for sculpting new creativities in music education.
Increasingly, music educators are keen to apply educational research to the task of, and
necessity of, reauthoring change—thinking of new strategies and transforming some of
the existing structures and products of music education which have been complicit in the
production of stale and outmoded practices. There is change afoot for discarding, disas-
sembling and deconstructing spaces and practices that lack a way to effect change in music
educational systems and which are often bound to political systems and pressures.
Now, if sculpting new creativities, as we argue throughout this volume, is the means by
which research is unlocked to initiate change, and if the work of music educators is to creatively apply
the latest and shifting educational research and thinking, transcending paralysing policy that cre-
ates doubt and uncertainty, then how can we reformulate change agendas in music educa-
tion? How can we inspire music teachers to undertake the formidable task of reconfiguring
aims and expectations, and mobilise new ways of co-authoring change-making practices in
and through research together for future-making education? And how do we learn to sup-
port and scaffold new ways of knowing, being and doing, to enhance children’s distinctive
and diverse styles of creativities? These are exceptionally important questions in the name
of innovating music education futures.
It is more important than ever that we (as humans as well as music educators) are able
to adapt to the unexpected and unknown; more than that, that we are able to shape how
our students respond to the unexpected and unknown. In other words, we do not know
what we are preparing pupils for; what we do know is that, whatever the immediate,
 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education  585
medium- and long-term future holds, we have a role and a duty to enable and empower
our pupils to be confident, independent, thinking, discerning and resilient problem solvers
and creatives.

Creativities We Lead By: Re-Imagining Change

But how? With so many perceived barriers to achieving the school, classroom, curriculum
and opportunities for our pupils to which we aspire, can we effect such transformational
change? If we carry a vision of a hopeful future for music education, we must ask questions
and hypothesise that there can be a different way. By unlocking research we can develop
our understanding of the ways in which diverse creativities can re-empower, re-ignite and
re-invigorate the realms of the possible which can positively affect children, educators,
schools and wider communities.
Here there is an important point for music educators which speaks to the fear of failure.
Music educators tend to be risk averse when it comes to setting up learning cultures. Risk
taking is feared because it involves failures and mistakes. The fear of failure and mistakes
makes people stick with familiar ideas and solutions rather than try different and possibly
better options. We know that mistakes help us improve. If learners hold such a view, they
are likely to realise that failures and mistakes are normal and that there are opportunities to
progress. This will encourage them to participate in more challenging learning activities.
So, what does this mean for leaders and all stakeholders in music education? It is critical
that a plurality of creativities is demonstrably valued and celebrated and that intellectual
risk taking is supported and encouraged. This might require reconfigured leadership so
that structures not only regulate, but define and enable educators and communities to enact
diverse creativities. Leaders, of both schools and classrooms, studios and community spaces,
need to reflect on whether the ethos and systems which have been established support pu-
pils and educators to be comfortable with uncertainty and facilitate time and space for such
enactments. Unlocking research shows us that, by nurturing and enhancing diverse creativ-
ities in our settings, meaningful change to our systems, our environment, our curriculum,
and our professional training and learning can be achieved.
So, how can leaders inspire and counteract fear of risk taking when embracing diverse
creativities in music education? This needs to be considered at three levels. First, at the
strategic level, it is about how diverse creativities are defined, framed and embodied in/as
discursive parameters that construct the concept of ‘creativity’ and diverse creativities in
strategic decisions (for example, at curriculum level). Second, at the system level, it is about
how whole-school practices (specific policies, timetabling, assessment) work to operation-
alise and differentiate diverse creativities. Third, finally, at the individual and social levels, it
is about how individuals can collectively choreograph and highlight multiple creativities to
co-create new conditions and practices of possibility. So, how does this help reformulate the
ways in which diverse creativities can be engaged to support change in music education?

Creativities We Identify With

The need to work creatively pervades all areas of work and engagement in music educa-
tion, and it could be argued that the need to work more creatively has never been more
pronounced.
We have an ethical responsibility to heed the call for a different stance towards music
education, which is open to creating new practices evidenced in the latest studies, which
more and more frequently emphasise the role of creative self-belief. According to these
studies, creative self-belief qualifies creative achievements, at least to some extent, but it is
586  Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles
also significant for lower-level creativity, including creative thinking or solving everyday
problems. Creative self-belief describes people’s convictions about their own abilities and
the nature of those traits that are of key importance for activities that require creativity
(Beghetto & Karwowski, 2017).
We aim to challenge the myths and (mis)understandings that some teachers are creative
and some are not creative. If we want educators to identify with diverse creativities in their
classrooms and their schools we need them to identify with creativity (a mindset) and also
see that they already possess the required ‘skills’. Creative self-awareness refers to an indi-
vidual’s perception of their strengths or weaknesses within the frame of creativity and the
possibilities of changing those. It also encompasses creative metacognition—a combination
of self- and contextual knowledge used in decision making about one’s own creative func-
tioning as well as one’s conviction about the nature of creativity, known as creative mindset
(Beghetto & Karwowski, 2017).
Creative mindset refers to a subset of implicit theories of creativity; more specifically,
mindsets deal with the perceived roots of creativity and its perceived stability (fixed mind-
set) or changeability (growth mindset). Some individuals (entity theorists) tend to view
creativity as a fixed, trait-like characteristic and do not believe that it can be changed, while
others (incremental theorists) view creativity as a malleable competence that can be success-
fully trained. This speaks to the agenda of ‘teaching for creativity’ and encourages educators
to challenge their perceptions of the creativity of each other and their pupils (Beghetto &
Karwowski, 2017).
These are all important research findings about the need to inspire music educators to
view themselves differently. Educators are innately creative beings; creativity is not some-
thing we need to learn to be or strive to become. We enact diverse creativities every day
because we are typically looking for new ways of looking at things to improve our provi-
sion, develop our practice, and respond to the needs of our pupils and our communities.
We do this as part of our classrooms’, our schools’ and our own professional evolution and
we do this because we are and need to be reflexive and responsive to external influence,
invariably beyond our control. Music educators are creators and change makers because
what they do does have an impact; they make a difference. What if every music educator
left school every day feeling like a creative? Think of the possibilities. Recognising (cre-
ative) educators as creative learners too empowers educators to think creatively and so to
teach creatively, and to teach for creativity, taking risks and thus realising a plurality of
creativities.
So, creativity is not an innate, invariable talent: on the contrary, it is a plural, multidi-
mensional, participatory enactment. Research has shown that learners can leverage consid-
erable influence and genuinely engage as co-authors in and of their learning (see Chapters
4, 19, 20, 23, 24, 27, 29, 30, 33, 36, 43, 44). It is important for music educators to reflect on
how they can and should give children autonomy so that their understanding of the world,
and their place in it, helps them to feel safe, reassured and empowered about their future.
We are seeing, around the world, that children and young people are increasingly making
their voices heard, and they are becoming active at local and even global levels. Many chil-
dren and young people are highly motivated and are able to use their music enthusiasms
and motivations to affect change by motivating the adults in their lives to make positive
changes. To develop diverse creativities and whole-school creative ecologies, the learning
environment should encourage the community to explore, be open to new ideas, take risks,
and be imaginative and curious. While some of these features can be perceived as threats to
classroom management and teachers’ self-efficacy in the learning environment, an inclusive
learning environment should encourage learners to explore, to be open to new ideas, to
take risks and to form positive relationships (Cremin & Chappell, 2021).
 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education  587
Rethinking the Creative Ecologies of Our Schools and Education
Systems
In music education we often think about school practices as separate entities that are
made, unmade and lived through the existence and negotiation of hopes and practices.
These ‘new beginnings’ are often conceived in response to external influences, which
may result in schools bringing about change that feels enforced rather than change that
is chosen. This can sometimes result in change feeling finite and superficial rather than
meaningful and transformative. So how do we make the system more creative? How do
we ensure that change is meaningful and sustainable? And how can we use creativities to
make the system evolve? By unlocking research, we can challenge the dominant stories
we have come to know about change in schools and open up new possibilities for whole-
school change.
Thinking of whole-school changes not as separate entities but as enactments of multiple
beginnings empowers educators to take charge of the change agenda in schools and think
about it in a different way. We can achieve this by moving away from the notion of change
as a linear narrative, towards seeing it as new beginnings which get produced and con-
ceived in multiple ways, and which are continuously reconfigured by multiple and diverse
creativities.
Arguing for a new way to enact whole-school systemic change creatively and sustainably,
Anne Harris (2016) has advanced the concept of ‘creative ecologies’ which are vibrantly and
productively entangled in professional learning communities, such as primary education.
Rather than advancing one-off creative events in a school, or seeing creativity as the reserve
of the arts, or generic conceptions of creativity, Harris’s research foregrounds a creativity
that is inherently multiple, relational and active. It focuses on pluralism, where nothing is
singular, static or unified, but always many, evolving and interwoven.
The concept of creative ecologies (Harris, 2016) takes into account the entire con-
text and community of various stakeholders that are engaged in primary education. The
model summarised in Figure 48.2 includes five loci which are all interrelating—products,
processes, partnerships, policies and the physical environment—and that are all, always
and already, interwoven and interconnecting to (em-)power school policies, systems and
practices.
Viewing music education as part of a creative ecology is critical to each professional
learning community. For music educators, developing whole-school approaches to learning
and teaching creatively, and learning and teaching for diverse creativities, involves recog-
nising that primary schools can be sites for re-imagining and re-operationalising radical
change in professional learning communities. We can unlock research and use it to better
understand and inform our practice, rather than defend it. Thus we can move beyond neo-
liberal notions that separate research, practice and ‘workplace readiness’ and move towards
an environmental, ecological, more holistic approach to catalysing change from the ground
up. These approaches should be central to professional development for practising teachers
(and preservice/teacher training programmes).
With Harris’s (2016) creative ecologies model at the centre, our theoretical framework
(see Figure 48.2) proposes a scaffold from which to rethink an ecology of primary educa-
tion infused by multiple and diverse creativities. Through this model we seek to demon-
strate how policies, processes, products, partnerships and a physical environment could
be developed with the potential to effect meaningful change in classrooms, schools and
beyond. The framework seeks to invite a way of configuring and co-authoring, with multi-
and ­inter-stakeholders, collaborative activities to sculpt new normals in our music schools,
our music classrooms, our studios and communities, and in our education systems. These
588  Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles

Figure 48.2  Creative ecologies (adapted from Harris, 2016).

Figure 48.3  Co-authoring new creativities through innovative research-informed practice.

 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education  589
activities would include exploration, play, hypothesising and making connections. These
activities promote participatory creativity, or doing things differently together, and highlight
the importance of interconnection and interconnectedness in (co-)authoring change to
bring about practices which are co-produced, interrelated, relational and communicated in
ways that are co-constitutive.
The final layer in Figure 48.3 highlights the diverse creativities featured in this volume,
which offer different ways of (co-)authoring to prompt thinking which reviews, reimagi-
nes and redefines the foci of schools. These creativities are signposted chapter by chapter.
Through enacting diverse creativities, the focus shifts from which creativities we are ed-
ucating for, or simply with, as we engage in creative learning and teaching, and moves
towards seeking ways of understanding the nature and the logics of knowing-being-doing
differently as professional communities.

A Summary of Key Points about the Contribution of Diverse

Creativities to Music Education and the Main Conclusions of This Book
1 Pluralism and openness are fundamental to the diversity of creativities illustrated
across this volume. The sites of diverse creativities can draw from the experience of
musicians and practitioners working in professional learning communities, cultural
settings and partnership organisations as well as across music education sectors. Music
arises not simply from individual minds but in constructions that reflect the tastes and
fashions of social groups and social relations. In this way, ‘creativities’ are inherently
pluralistic where nothing is singular, static or unified, but always many, evolving and
interwoven.
2 When we gain a heightened awareness of and sustain a plurality of creativities in
our practice we can start intra-acting with collaborative creativity grounded in
shared responsibility and joint endeavours. This is in contrast to individual creativ-
ity which allies itself with an ideology of self-contained individualism and assumes in-
dividual authorship, when say a composer works alone on a compositional task. In this
process we have to consider the experimentation of ideas, through improvisational
creativity or different forms of compositional creativity with technology. Then
there are digital creativities which use digital tools to author new music with digital
media. New technologies inspire new creativities and new music literacies. These cre-
ativities are diverse, often taking place across a range of disciplines that share similar
interfaces and literacies (coding, web design, production, performance, working with
visual media).
3 Greater access and participation in digital music and diverse forms of authoring
new music, and the interchangeability of new music creativities between what once
were clearly delineated roles (composer, producer, sound designer, performer) have
had a major impact on real-world contemporary practice. It is not uncommon to see
composers also identify as producers and sound designers. Commercial music charts
are populated by artists who not only perform and write, but also produce in their own
studio: Daft Punk, Kanye West, Janelle Monáe, Pharrell Williams, Labrinth and Bruno
Mars, just to name a few. We have witnessed a blurring of lines that once separated the
specialisms associated with music creativities (such as composition, performance, im-
provisation, production, sound design, arrangement) and increasingly observe in con-
temporary and commercial practices a disregard of the notional boundaries between
high and low art, popular, experimental and contemporary styles, genres and scenes.
We seek to engage with innovative ways of doing music education, shaping the cultural
evolution of societies and music education practices.
590  Pamela Burnard and Clint Randles
4 Instead of trying to agree on a uniform definition of creativity, we call for an open-
ness to harnessing the generative power of distinctive and differentiated types of
creativity.
5 Unlocking creativities research can enable us to (co-)author change and rethink
the roles of educators and learners, since working towards more sustainable socie-
ties requires practices that are co-produced, interrelated, interconnected, relational and
communicated in ways that are co-constitutive (see Chapters 1, 6, 10, 11, 13, 16, 19, 22,
28, 47, 48).
6 Unlocking creativities research in music education means unleashing possibility
thinking by envisioning possibilities that may seem unrealistic at first glance, but hold
the potential for innovative solutions that are all, always and already, interwoven and
interconnecting, and (em-)powering change (see Chapters 4, 23, 24, 25, 27).
7 Unlocking creativities research can help identify diverse and new ways of re-­
balancing the sometimes-opposing requirements that dictate the implementation of
strict benchmarks alongside creative leadership and innovative practices (see Chapters
1, 11, 13, 14, 17, 18, 26, 43).
8 Music education can be a site of pluralism and openness, for re-imagining and re-­
operationalising radical change in which diverse creativities are co-authored by
learning communities with an attentiveness to shifting relations and an openness to
the pluralism of creativities (see Chapters 5, 7, 13, 37, 38, 42).
9 Music education as an intercultural site where communities whose creative self-belief,
creative self-awareness and creative mindsets all bring agency to an ecological approach to
music education by rethinking how diverse creativities can change learning cultures
(see Chapters 4, 24, 25, 27).

If we want to prepare music learners and educators to grapple with the future and to know
and hope in new ways about a world that is complex and generative, yet one we will help
to generate, then we need to be clear and confident about what this means, including prac-
tising diverse creativities of music. Together we can rethink and create ways of articulating
and creating hope as new ways to access and mobilise whole-school change, resources and
creativity-related processes, values and experiences. This will empower the whole commu-
nity to reimagine and develop new capacities to act and inspire, and to release and sustain
their own diverse creativities to decide together what they are capable of becoming and
their relationship with the future.

Questions for Consideration

1 How can music educators play a key role in encouraging and celebrating diverse crea-
tivities across the school and within the classroom?
2 What would music education look like if we used inter-, trans-, multi- and post-­
disciplinary creativities to break down and co-author new forms of musical knowledge
and disciplinary knowing, to support a more holistic, embodied and expanded notion
of what music and music education is and can become?
3 What kinds of creativities matter most to music learners in your school? Which crea-
tivities lie at the heart of the curiosity of the young and their openness to the world?
4 What forms of co-authoring/co-designing are distinctive to the digital age?
5 What is the potential of sculpting new creativities—taking a participatory approach,
and engaging as co-authors and co-designers with/in our community—as seeds of
change-making education and music education futures?
 Reconfiguring the Future of Music Education  591
References
Beghetto, R. A., & Karwowski, M. (2017). Toward untangling creative self-beliefs. In M. Karwowski &
J. C. Kaufman (Eds.), Explorations in Creativity Research (pp. 3–22). Cambridge, MA: Elsevier Academic
Press. http://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-809790-8.00001-7
Burnard, P., & Colucci-Gray, L. (Eds.). (2020). Why Science and Arts Creativities Matter. Dordrecht:
Brill-I-Sense.
Craft, A. (2015). Creativity, Education and Society: Writings of Anna Craft. London: Trentham Books.
Cremin, T., & Chappell, K. (2021). Creative pedagogies: A systematic review. Research Papers in Education,
36(3), 299–331. https://doi.org/10.1080/02671522.2019.1677757
Gardner, H. (1983). Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences. New York: Basic Books.
Harris, A. (2016). Creative Ecologies: Fostering Creativity in Schools. creativeresearchhub.com.
Index
abilities xx, xxvii, 23, 27, 29, 58, 68, 71–74, 76,
84–89, 94, 96f., 97, 100, 102, 110, 111f., 131,
132, 138, 144, 164, 177, 179, 193, 194, 199,
207, 219, 223, 230, 231, 236–238, 247, 250,
285, 289, 291, 293, 302, 318, 332f., 338, 343,
346, 357, 363, 372, 383, 390, 394, 396, 405,
408, 411, 414, 420, 422, 434, 444, 450, 452,
461, 466, 478, 481, 488, 501, 512, 519, 528,
545, 548, 560f., 563, 570, 574, 577, 582, 586
Ableton 157, 160, 221, 253
Abramo, J.M. 268, 274, 343, 346, 349
academics xiii, xv, xix, xxii, xxvii, 4, 11, 94,
105, 109, 147, 192, 203, 226, 243, 251, 267,
269, 272, 282, 289, 292, 300, 302, 311–313,
319, 323, 352, 354, 357, 382, 386, 389–391,
395, 399, 425, 453, 455, 468, 474, 527, 537,
542–544, 558–571, 573–579, 591
academy 6, 36, 148, 174, 184, 244, 257, 259, 287,
314, 323, 348, 351
Acapella 124, 139, 141–143
achieve xxvii, 6–8, 10, 47, 52, 65, 70, 72–74, 76,
88, 160, 168, 176, 179, 193, 219, 225, 255, 274,
280, 317, 324, 378, 386, 394, 396, 437, 444,
446, 460, 462, 482, 581, 587
achieved 164, 229, 248, 254–256, 288, 369, 378,
389, 392, 417, 434, 437, 447, 461, 492, 502,
511, 560, 585
achievements 24, 98, 116, 131, 147, 169, 173, 194,
196, 199, 254, 274, 379, 399, 407, 425, 479,
500, 502, 514, 532, 533, 537, 580, 585
achieving 53, 69, 72, 88, 170, 296, 394, 396,
501, 585
acoustic xviii, 153, 165, 217–219, 224, 226, 290,
296, 303, 383, 435, 442, 444, 463, 483, 487,
545, 549
acoustic-instrumental 441–445, 451, 453
acting 8, 35, 41, 66, 85, 272, 306, 418, 421, 461,
466, 469, 478, 492, 573
actions x, xvii, xxii, 7, 11, 12, 20, 25, 28, 31, 39,
44, 47, 53, 55, 64, 65, 67, 69, 73, 78, 85, 86, 96,
100, 102, 110, 136–139, 148, 163, 184, 192,
193, 209, 212, 226, 247, 258, 268, 273, 276,
278, 312, 315, 320, 325, 329, 334, 337, 357,
368, 379, 397, 405, 408–410, 414, 433, 439,
442–444, 447, 450, 451, 453, 457–465, 466,
467, 469, 471, 506, 511, 514–516, 519, 527,
528–535, 537, 552, 555, 558, 561, 564, 566,
570, 574, 576, 579, 583, 587
activating x, 12, 162, 239, 352, 355, 357, 359, 361,
469, 524, 534, 466
activism 25–27, 30–32, 244, 299, 302, 306,
310–313
activist ix, 25, 31, 90, 244, 261, 299–303, 305,
307, 309–313
adapt 111, 114, 172, 244, 267, 315, 343, 350, 360,
436, 461, 463, 466, 546, 555, 584
adaptability 130, 249, 293, 360, 546
adaptation 125, 127, 274, 279, 287, 315, 330, 338,
376, 435, 448, 459, 501, 506, 554
administration 119, 165, 171, 282, 415, 424, 478
administrators 94, 114, 473, 478
admittedly 395, 480, 498, 548
adolescents 33, 91, 147, 192, 195, 197, 250, 258,
374, 425, 476, 479
adopt 68, 108, 111, 114, 121, 204, 261, 268, 296,
316, 333, 335, 357, 361, 384, 421, 433, 443
advocate xvii, xxv, 7, 28, 103, 136, 146, 263, 569
aesthetics 36–38, 43, 60, 65, 70, 96, 139, 145, 173,
184, 227, 267, 293, 312, 320, 359, 362, 401,
402, 419, 430, 434–437, 439, 440, 443, 449,
452, 471, 484, 488, 490, 516, 534, 580, 582
affordances 29, 39, 42, 181, 226, 416–419,
461–464, 466, 469, 529, 534
Africa xv, 132, 252, 282, 287, 469
African xv, 20, 104, 120, 125, 132, 249, 258, 280,
283, 287, 555, 566
agency 36, 42, 58, 94, 96–99, 102, 138, 143, 145,
148, 151, 223, 230, 259, 307, 309, 321, 358,
380, 396, 429, 435, 438, 467, 471, 478, 503,
529, 532, 590
Akuno, E. A. xii, xv, 118, 132, 261, 278–280,
282–284, 286
album xvi, xix, 4, 87, 164, 166, 173, 303, 327, 357,
360, 362, 378, 418, 484
Allsup, R. E. 21, 65, 70, 80, 89, 302, 311, 316,
320–322, 324, 541, 552
594 Index
alternative xv, xxvi, 32, 41, 44, 100, 127, 149, 221,
239, 244, 288, 380, 425, 430, 438, 527, 535,
539, 572
Amabile, T. M. 82, 89, 364, 372, 389, 397, 399
amateur 26, 76, 349, 363, 372, 470
American xix, 30, 46, 59, 70, 75, 78, 104, 116,
118, 143, 163, 192, 196, 216, 258, 265, 267,
276, 282, 304, 314, 316, 343, 381, 399, 402,
414, 418, 436, 455, 537, 553, 555, 566
Andrews, B. W. x, xv, 327, 363–366, 368, 370–375
arts-based xv, xxiv, 104, 162, 185–187, 189
aural 139, 200, 204, 287, 309, 314, 317, 358,
544, 552
authenticity 30, 108, 244, 258, 295, 306, 407, 413,
485, 490
Bernhard, H. C. x, xv, 107, 115, 427, 473–479
Brown, C. x, 30, 146, 160, 249, 387, 416, 442, 454
Bruin, Leon de xi, xvii, 460, 470, 525, 527–530,
532, 534, 536–538
Burnard, Pamela i–iv, vi, ix–xi, xv, xxvii, 1, 3,
6–8, 10, 12, 20, 24, 31, 34, 43, 55, 59, 81, 86,
89, 94, 101, 104, 107, 115, 132, 144–146,
148–150, 162, 164, 171, 174, 177, 184, 198,
204, 217, 223, 225, 228, 236, 238, 241–244,
246, 248, 250, 252, 254, 256–258, 267,
275, 287, 299–302, 304, 306, 308, 310, 316,
318, 325, 329, 336, 338, 342, 349, 352, 357,
359, 361–364, 370, 373, 385, 389, 396, 398,
404–410, 412–415, 421, 424, 427, 429, 432,
434, 436, 438–441, 454, 457, 460, 463, 465,
469–471, 474, 477, 480, 483–486, 488–490,
505, 515, 517, 524, 530, 535, 538–541, 545,
550–552, 554–556, 562, 565, 569, 578–582,
584, 586, 588, 590
challenges vii, xx, 35, 43, 48, 50, 71, 79, 93, 95,
98, 108, 112, 117–120, 125, 127, 131, 146,
157, 173, 184–186, 221, 223, 246, 256, 270,
272, 280, 297, 307, 312, 315, 319, 324, 338,
346, 350, 363, 371, 377, 383, 390, 393, 402,
406, 409, 425, 438, 453, 455, 462, 467, 474,
477–479, 496, 502, 515, 531–533, 535, 549,
553, 583
change i, viii, xii, xviii, 3, 5–7, 10, 15, 17, 28, 31,
43, 47, 55, 58, 78, 81, 86, 88, 90, 93, 96, 100,
109, 111, 114, 118, 126, 130, 133, 155, 169,
191, 186, 192, 199, 204, 215–217, 245, 247,
251, 255, 261, 265, 268, 271, 276, 281–283,
285–287, 289, 298, 304, 309, 312–316,
324, 343, 350, 370, 374, 379, 382, 386, 390,
397, 399–401, 403, 407, 412, 421, 423, 436,
443, 447, 454, 471, 476, 486, 492, 495, 497,
499–501, 534, 537, 541, 544, 550, 552–554,
566–568, 577, 581–587, 589
Chen, C. W. J. viii, xvi, 198–200, 202, 204, 238,
475, 477, 479
citizenship xxiv, 90, 136, 144, 425
Clauhs, M. ix, xvii, 133, 217, 220, 222–227, 238
co-construction 310, 439, 506, 508, 514
co-create 364, 375, 460, 483, 581, 585
co-creating 106, 346, 487, 496, 582
co-creation 198, 201, 353, 425, 466, 484, 496
collaboration 11, 44, 48, 54, 101, 107, 114,
116, 132, 138, 149–151, 160, 177, 217, 223,
225–228, 230, 239, 249, 265, 270, 285, 291,
294, 303, 305, 319, 322, 324, 327, 329–331,
333, 338, 353, 357, 359–361, 364, 375, 450,
454, 463–466, 470–472, 477, 481, 484, 490,
507, 511, 514, 516, 528–530, 536, 551, 553,
556, 584
Coltrane, J. 4, 28, 31, 85, 299, 310–314, 376–382,
384–388, 436, 440
community i, ix, xv, xix, xxi, xxiii, 3, 6, 22, 26, 29,
49, 52, 56, 59, 68, 83, 88, 94, 97, 105, 108, 113,
116, 127, 138, 193, 216, 224, 227, 242, 247,
250–252, 258, 268, 271, 275, 278, 280, 289,
300, 305, 311, 315, 321, 327–329, 331, 336,
340–342, 344–351, 371, 385, 387, 391, 396,
404, 406, 410–412, 414, 417, 419–423, 431,
440, 444, 450, 454, 465, 471, 493, 495–497,
500, 514, 519, 523, 536, 553, 562, 565, 573,
576, 579, 583, 585–587, 590
compositional 6, 12, 34, 42, 106, 108, 110, 113,
142, 144, 199, 209, 212–214, 227–240, 245,
334–338, 363–365, 367–373, 375, 378, 403,
433, 435, 442, 454, 463, 483–487, 489, 580,
583, 589
compositions 4, 6, 11, 13, 18, 20, 27, 32, 33,
36–38, 43, 60, 65, 70, 71, 76, 96, 104, 110, 112,
116, 135, 139, 141, 144, 145, 161–163, 172,
173, 181, 184, 196, 200, 204, 209, 212–217,
219, 226, 227, 228–237, 239, 250, 267, 281,
293, 294, 312, 320, 325, 327, 329, 333–339,
353–375, 384, 391, 398, 401, 402, 419, 425,
429, 430, 433, 434–437, 439, 440, 443, 449,
452, 454, 461, 463, 468, 470, 471, 484–486,
490, 516, 534, 548, 568–570, 572–580,
582, 589
COVID-19 viii, xii, xiv, xxiii, xxviii, 3, 8, 22, 117,
120, 122–125, 127, 130–132, 192, 197, 222,
225, 245, 329, 338, 341, 349, 376, 380, 382,
385, 430, 442, 474, 480, 483, 487, 490, 501,
517, 540, 542, 544, 548, 552
creative 1, 4, 6, 10–12, 16, 18–20, 22–25, 27–37,
42–51, 53–60, 65, 69, 71–73, 76, 78–80, 83–89,
97, 100, 102, 105–117, 119, 127, 129, 131, 133,
136, 139, 143–145, 148, 152, 157, 161–165,
167, 169–180, 182–185, 196, 198–204,
206, 209, 211, 214, 217, 220–226, 228–232,
236–242, 244, 246, 254–257, 259, 267–269,
273, 276, 278, 280–287, 289–297, 299, 303,
307, 309, 312, 315, 318–320, 329, 337–339,
342–347, 349, 354, 358–361, 366, 369, 371,
373, 376–380, 382–385, 389–392, 394–405,
407, 410, 415–427, 432–435, 437–439,
441–445, 449, 453–455, 457, 459–469, 471,
475–477, 479, 481–484, 486–490, 492,

495–497, 499–503, 506, 510–516, 521, 525,
527–542, 544–546, 548–553, 555, 562, 565,
569–572, 574, 576, 579–581, 584–591
creativities 1, 3–24, 25, 26, 27, 29–31, 33–35,
42–44, 46, 48–59, 60, 66, 71–74, 76–94, 96–99,
101–104, 106–109, 111, 114, 116, 117, 118,
120, 133–138, 143–146, 148–150, 161–165,
171–179, 181–185, 189, 194, 198–205, 206,
209, 211, 213–217, 223, 226, 228–231, 233,
235, 237–240, 242, 243, 245, 253, 256, 257, 261,
263, 265, 267, 270, 273, 275, 276, 278–280, 283,
285–288, 289, 290, 295, 297, 299–302, 304, 306,
307–311, 312, 315, 318, 320, 324, 327–329, 331,
337–339, 341–344, 346–350, 352–355, 357,
359–363, 364, 365, 367, 369–374, 382, 385,
387, 389–393, 394–410, 411–418, 420–425,
427, 429–432, 435–439, 445, 451, 454, 457,
457, 459–466, 467–472, 473–479, 480–490,
495, 500, 502–507, 509, 511, 513–517, 519,
520, 521–525, 527–533, 535, 538, 542, 548,
550–557, 559, 562, 565, 568–570, 572–587,
570, 581–591
Csikszentmihalyi, M. 34, 44, 86, 89, 163, 173,
198, 204, 389, 398, 404–407, 411, 413,
420–423, 462, 469, 506, 515, 528, 529, 536,
540, 550, 553
curriculum 1, 6, 45–55, 57–60, 88, 93, 97, 100,
102, 110, 116, 118–120, 126, 133, 137, 147,
149, 175, 183–185, 188, 198, 200, 203, 214,
216, 242, 252, 254, 256, 265, 267, 280–284,
286, 292, 303, 305, 309, 314, 319, 322, 338,
343, 346, 349, 352, 382, 385, 390, 393, 395,
397, 401, 406, 470, 511, 516, 525, 528, 536,
541–544, 549–566, 568, 572, 578, 584
cyberfeminism vii, 1, 22, 25–27, 29–32
cyberfeminist 22, 25–27, 29–31
DAW ix, xv, 133, 150, 152, 161, 200, 207–223,
225–227, 238, 253, 483
democracy 21, 275, 421, 553, 566, 583
depression 192, 251, 259, 474, 476, 492
design xiii, 45, 76, 93–96, 99, 104, 115, 124,
129, 167, 173, 186, 198, 201–204, 209, 212,
220, 230, 246, 253, 276, 278, 282, 289, 303,
306–308, 333, 336, 364, 374, 397, 416, 424,
442, 445, 451–455, 496, 502, 506, 508, 514,
519, 541, 554, 558–560, 564, 568, 572, 589
differences xx, 1, 28, 29, 31, 34, 39, 43, 46, 48–51,
59, 62, 67, 74, 88, 89, 94, 96, 117, 120, 124,
148, 158, 160, 171, 177, 179, 186, 193, 224,
229, 232, 234, 236–238, 252, 291, 295, 299,
306, 336, 372, 374, 399, 404, 405, 407, 409,
421, 430, 435, 453, 468, 470, 475, 505, 525,
573, 577, 586
dispositions 19, 177, 201, 217, 221–225, 341, 348,
379, 382, 397, 406, 408, 475, 479, 485, 505,
534, 570, 574, 575–577, 580
diverse 1, 3, 5, 7, 9–12, 20, 22, 25, 27, 30, 81, 85,
104, 106, 122, 133, 137–139, 150, 162, 175,
Index  595
183, 186, 217, 224, 239, 243–245, 261, 278,
280, 284, 286, 289, 296, 300–302, 310, 315,
318, 324, 330, 342, 362, 372, 389, 392, 395,
410, 402, 433, 435, 438, 465, 468, 489, 503,
512, 517, 521–524, 530, 536, 555, 566, 568,
571, 578, 581–587, 589
diversify xxvii, 243, 283, 288, 382, 582, 584
diversity 4, 6, 18, 27, 29, 50, 84, 96, 131, 137,
147, 200, 241, 243, 245, 247, 249, 251, 253,
255, 257, 259, 291, 296, 301, 312–314, 364,
389–391, 405, 443, 450, 452, 466, 468, 470,
521–523, 581, 589
DIY 29, 221–226, 415, 456
DJing 115, 135, 169, 242–244, 249, 255, 257, 389
DJs 34, 198, 249, 256, 314
drumming xv, 141, 480–482, 484–486, 490
drums xxv, 106, 153, 234, 332, 480–484, 486,
499, 509, 544
Eddy Chong x, xvi, 376, 378, 380, 382, 384,
386, 388
e-Learning xvi, 121, 126–129, 132, 238,
331–333, 340
embodiment 8, 12, 31, 35, 38, 259, 437, 445, 457,
470, 555
emotions 17, 26, 61, 64, 68, 113, 151, 185, 195,
203, 210, 212, 269, 311, 359, 360, 364, 370,
407, 408, 425, 430, 439, 443, 469, 476, 477,
496, 506, 528, 533, 537
enactive xxiv, 35, 176, 240, 453, 457–461,
464–466, 468, 472, 555
engender 112, 380, 481, 489, 582
Engeström 53, 59, 508, 514–516
equality 8, 50, 280, 310, 386, 508
equitable 29, 102, 388, 555
ethical 17, 29, 31, 53, 73, 75, 88, 90, 443, 452,
464, 474, 490, 505, 533, 585
ethics 174, 265, 471, 538, 566, 579
Eudaimonia xxiv, 173, 385, 411, 413, 415, 480,
490, 567
expression xviii, 16, 29, 64, 68, 72, 80, 82–84, 86,
88, 96, 102, 135, 145, 178, 185, 187, 207, 241,
245, 250, 252, 263, 272, 278, 280, 316, 320,
323, 337, 359, 369, 385, 396, 405, 411, 416,
419, 424, 434, 452, 482, 485–487, 492, 495,
502, 530, 532, 537, 555, 569
facilitation 114, 116, 173, 224, 227, 230, 289, 295,
297, 342, 416, 546, 552
facilitators 43, 93, 109–111, 114, 122, 187–189,
204, 252, 290, 292, 295, 332, 358, 414
feel xxvii, xxix, 6, 8, 11, 22, 35, 51, 54, 57, 61, 65,
67, 82, 84–89, 107, 111, 114, 142, 151, 155,
161, 168, 170, 193, 195, 210, 213, 243, 246,
249, 252, 295, 302, 306, 309, 324, 356, 360,
367, 393, 408, 411, 436, 473–476, 482, 486,
489, 522, 535, 548, 560, 562, 564, 570, 573,
575, 582, 586
feelingful 80, 82–86, 482, 487
596 Index
feelings 9, 17, 28, 41, 55, 83, 84, 86–89, 112,
118, 142, 157, 172, 185, 187, 192, 196, 212,
241, 246, 299, 301, 311, 334, 335, 341, 345,
348–350, 354, 408–410, 412, 431, 449, 474,
487, 492, 493, 495, 496, 501, 502, 528, 533,
548, 586
feels 8, 41, 64, 68, 86, 168, 170, 187, 360, 408,
485, 487, 492, 513, 587
feminism 22–25, 30
Finland 276, 401, 415
Finney, J. 56, 59, 150, 162, 424
flexibility 101, 111, 132, 167, 188, 213, 221, 223,
225, 267, 283, 293, 295, 329, 333, 346, 406,
408, 412, 461, 530, 532, 537, 575
flexible 93, 95, 97, 101, 103, 122, 127, 130, 132,
167, 186, 188, 221, 329, 343, 417, 433, 441,
461, 466, 477, 551
flourish 7, 58, 355, 479, 483, 486, 531, 582
flourishing 16, 246, 406, 415, 463, 466, 478,
555, 567
flow 55, 86–89, 99, 135, 145, 155, 159, 163, 174,
188, 196, 293, 351, 398, 407, 411, 413, 417,
424, 432, 436, 462, 469, 496, 505, 513, 519,
534, 536, 564
Folkestad, G. 52, 59, 176, 184, 402
Fuller, B. ix, xviii, 39, 179, 181, 261, 263, 266,
268, 270, 272, 274–276, 287, 379, 484
Fung, C.V. 3, 12, 18, 21, 80, 90, 436, 440, 477, 479
Gallo, D. 91, 106, 108, 110, 112, 114–116,
144, 147
generation 18, 30, 126, 131, 163, 230, 258, 302,
311, 325, 337, 344, 376–378, 380, 382, 385,
393, 396, 404, 410, 415, 421, 424, 443, 479,
515, 523, 540, 569, 582
generative 116, 135, 140, 143, 163, 174, 384, 435,
439, 505, 583, 590
genius 24, 33–35, 44, 155, 316, 402, 405, 409,
463, 470, 482, 553, 570, 582
Ghent, J. xi, xix, xxii, 427, 517
Google 124, 128–130, 132, 204, 223, 344, 542
groove 201, 241, 258, 439, 483, 486, 491
grow 6, 8, 18, 82, 135, 144, 161, 168, 185, 213,
251, 255, 345, 348, 419, 463, 501, 521, 523,
533, 552, 554, 570, 572, 574, 576
growing 7, 18, 164, 217, 254, 302, 358, 390, 420,
429, 442, 457, 539, 551, 570
growth 3, 20, 35, 82, 107, 116, 119, 193, 251, 254,
315, 323, 383, 390, 409, 411, 417, 419, 421,
461, 464, 477, 471, 533, 546, 550, 554–556,
562–564, 571, 586
Guattari, F. 3, 10, 12, 31, 43
guitarist xvii, xxii, 166, 179, 181, 434
habits 6, 359, 399, 425, 466, 471, 503
habitus 23, 34, 198, 201, 359
hands-on 143, 263, 307, 539, 541, 571, 576
happiness 70, 88, 106, 341, 476, 478, 490
happy 88, 152, 154, 158, 160, 345, 436, 485,
487, 561
Hendricks, K. x, xix, 327, 404, 406–414
hip-hop 9, 133, 135–140, 142–148, 150, 197, 201,
241–253, 255–259, 299, 302–304, 306–314,
325, 402
Humberstone, J. 244, 261, 263, 266, 268, 270,
272, 274–276, 299–302, 304–306, 308, 310
identify 24, 33, 47, 73–75, 110, 112, 115,
128–130, 155, 158, 220, 241, 268, 280, 337,
354, 380, 421, 429, 468, 505, 521, 532, 585, 589
identities xvii, 10, 14, 17, 26, 28, 43, 65, 83, 116,
136, 137, 142–145, 169, 170, 174, 184, 199, 210,
222, 242, 249, 258, 269, 272, 278, 280, 291, 293,
302, 308, 311, 312, 322, 343, 359, 374, 384, 387,
392, 401, 407, 411, 412, 419, 427, 429, 464, 476,
479, 492, 506, 513, 515, 541, 572
imagination vii, 1, 25, 34, 61–64, 66–70, 178, 184,
280, 285, 415, 417, 495, 528, 569, 582
improvisatory 102, 111, 113, 343, 357, 376, 408,
410, 439, 442, 484, 553
improvise 9, 37, 76, 89, 93, 101, 103, 109, 112,
152, 300, 307, 352, 355, 358, 362, 367, 369,
399, 437, 486, 532, 534, 545
improvising 9, 19, 28, 103, 107, 144, 317, 330,
332, 337, 354, 356–358, 360, 362, 369, 371,
396, 434, 456, 463, 468, 479, 516, 536, 546,
549, 568
inclusion 6, 28, 46, 54, 93, 103, 137, 145, 184,
188, 207, 209, 237, 257, 261, 284, 296, 299,
313, 404, 406, 410–412, 421, 502, 506, 551,
554, 556, 565, 570
inclusive ix, 34, 43, 93–104, 131, 186, 244, 255,
264, 274, 288–290, 300, 310, 358, 361, 388,
405, 434, 466, 548, 586
inclusivity 33–35, 187, 241, 243, 245, 247, 249,
251, 253, 255, 257, 259, 296, 521, 562
incubation 290, 369, 539
individualism 24, 70, 99, 490, 589
Instagram x, 327, 349, 381, 416–426
intelligences 252, 258, 582, 591
internet xv, 22, 25, 77, 120, 126–128, 131, 197,
206, 222, 226, 269, 329–331, 334, 348, 418,
422, 424, 442, 450, 453, 455, 478, 494, 504,
516, 551
interpretation 1, 16, 19, 33, 35, 37–39, 41–43,
65–69, 75, 89, 163, 169, 181, 312, 319, 322,
353, 359, 362, 392, 435–437, 563
iPads 126, 142, 200, 221, 232, 295
jamming 201, 362, 481
jazz 4, 12, 20, 27, 37, 47, 111, 113, 115, 141,
199–201, 219, 222, 241, 249, 259, 269, 299,
301, 311, 313, 325, 339, 344, 352, 356, 360,
362, 376, 378, 384–388, 399, 433–436, 463,
465, 472, 480, 490, 496, 513, 515, 536, 545,
548, 565–567
Jorgensen, E. R. xxv, 13, 18, 21, 46, 59, 414, 490
journeys 10, 52, 55, 78, 91, 168, 169, 188, 192,
280, 282, 304, 346, 381, 423, 481, 486, 500,
522, 524, 536, 566, 578

joy xxviii, 28, 62, 64, 86, 111, 139, 170, 212, 253,
341, 408, 474, 478, 482, 489, 500, 522
justice xix, xxi, xxiv, 25, 27, 105, 195, 210,
244, 257, 299–301, 303, 310, 414, 470, 537,
556, 567
Karlsen, S. 295, 297, 314, 380, 387
Keller, D. 192, 197, 427, 441, 444–446, 448, 450,
452–456, 460, 470
Kenya 117–120, 124–127, 131–133, 261,
280–284, 286
Kinsella,V. 1, 45–48, 50, 52, 54, 56, 58, 60, 562
Kladder, J. 9, 12, 223, 261, 288, 290, 292, 294,
296–298, 525, 539–542, 544, 546, 548,
550, 552
Knapp, E. J. 91, 93, 96, 98, 100, 102, 104
knowing 6, 8, 16, 19, 50, 52, 55, 66, 81, 83, 96,
100, 104, 111, 317, 349, 359, 378, 384, 409,
465, 468, 470, 482, 497, 517, 522, 534, 541,
555, 564, 566, 584, 590
knowledge xvi, xxv, xxviii, 4, 15–17, 19, 25, 36,
42, 45, 48, 51, 54, 60, 63, 65, 71–77, 80, 93–97,
99–103, 105–107, 111–114, 118, 127, 129, 132,
136–139, 144, 147, 149, 177, 181, 184, 189,
193, 196, 198, 203, 207, 211–214, 224, 231,
241, 243–245, 257, 276, 280–286, 294–296,
310, 316, 319, 321, 324, 330, 339, 345, 354,
361, 364, 366, 372, 375, 381–386, 390, 393,
410, 417, 421–423, 430, 442–446, 448, 451,
454, 457, 462, 465, 469, 472, 505, 508–511,
516, 522–524, 528, 532–536, 540, 543, 545,
548, 554–556, 561, 565, 570, 574–576,
586, 590
Koops, A. xi, xx, 455, 525, 556, 566, 568–570,
572, 574, 576, 578–580
Kostagiolas, P. 72, 76–79
Koza, J. E. 144, 147, 288, 297
Kratus, J. 4, 6, 12, 186, 189, 191, 194–196, 200,
203, 205, 209, 216, 229, 233, 236, 239, 288,
297, 477, 479, 539, 552
Krikun, A. 288, 297, 539, 542, 553
Kruse, A. J. 136, 144, 147, 192, 197, 242, 258, 302,
313, 341, 344, 348, 351
Ladson-Billings, G. 97, 104, 555, 562, 566
Lage-Gómez, C. xi, xxi, 505, 508, 510, 512,
514, 516
laryngectomees 492, 496, 501
laryngectomy 492–498, 500–504
learner 46, 51, 96, 99, 203, 250, 253, 272, 284,
287, 307, 322, 325, 355, 379, 529, 531–533,
581, 583
learner-centered xx, xxvi, 9, 12, 217, 289, 295,
298, 315, 321, 541, 544
lyrics 41, 106, 135, 140–142, 146, 155–157, 160,
185, 191, 193, 212, 344, 496, 500
magic 11, 28, 105, 386, 488
magical 62, 67, 94, 488–490
Mantie, R. 45, 60, 226, 275, 312, 350, 490
Index  597
meaning 12, 19, 35–38, 44, 51, 53, 63, 66, 81–87,
89, 114, 118, 173, 189, 192, 194, 207, 214, 222,
230, 239, 241, 278, 295, 339, 349, 351, 353,
378, 394, 408, 415, 429–431, 438–440, 457,
459, 466, 469, 472, 482, 485, 495, 500, 505,
514, 517, 519, 522, 529, 535
meaningful xviii, 6, 11, 23, 46, 49, 62, 64, 66, 68,
77, 80, 82–87, 107, 112, 114, 137, 144, 167,
172, 185, 188, 193, 199, 214, 230–232, 238,
244, 247, 251, 255, 268, 272, 278, 293, 296,
305, 317, 321, 324, 341, 349, 355, 357, 374,
392, 409, 411, 415, 442, 444, 450, 454, 458,
460, 469, 502, 511, 513, 519, 528, 550, 552,
555, 577, 585, 587
meaning-making 29, 84, 87, 89, 139, 144, 517,
519, 523, 531
measurement 247, 250, 399, 415, 438, 479, 524
Melbourne xvii, 31, 299, 303, 305, 536
mentor 272, 307, 378, 543, 550
Merleau-Ponty, M. 44, 432, 450, 460, 470
metaphorical 63, 67, 69, 374
metaphors 17, 18, 47, 60, 63, 67, 69, 113, 123,
374, 378, 442, 443–448, 450, 453, 495
MIDI 153, 220, 230, 332, 551
MIT 32, 184, 398, 424, 470–472
Moir, Z. x, xxii, xxv, 150, 161, 174, 200, 205, 298,
327, 352, 485, 490
motivation xix, 21, 62, 65, 96, 127, 200, 204, 237,
246, 249, 251, 295, 316, 325, 340, 364, 373,
381, 386, 401, 407, 409, 411, 413, 420, 469,
473, 506, 511, 514, 533, 536, 538, 549, 551
multicultural 13, 18, 78, 105, 137, 147, 189, 244,
553, 555
multimedia xviii, xxi, 76, 79, 121, 417, 455
multimodal 417–419, 442, 567
multiplicity 3, 11, 43, 82, 84, 137, 145, 245, 353,
364, 489, 530
musicianship 26, 87, 106, 108, 112, 132, 136,
200–202, 224, 226, 240, 243, 267, 273, 277,
281, 283, 287–289, 291, 293, 296, 301,
314, 320–322, 338, 357, 361, 374, 479, 539,
545–547, 550
musicology 199, 311, 429, 440, 454
musics viii, 8, 10, 29, 33, 46, 49, 89, 91, 97, 150,
182, 242, 255, 297, 309, 311, 314, 389, 412,
476, 542, 551, 581
myths 27, 44, 59, 79, 104, 177, 207, 267, 405, 409,
412, 414, 463, 469, 586
NAfME 97, 104, 316, 318
narratives xviii, xxi, 10, 53, 80, 93, 129, 139, 171,
243, 246, 247, 251, 269, 284, 300, 310, 340,
352, 354, 370, 374, 404, 410, 412, 419, 496,
508, 515, 587
nature 3, 9, 11, 17, 22, 24, 26, 39, 47, 53, 62, 67,
73, 75, 80, 82–84, 104, 115, 118–120, 125, 129,
139, 161, 172, 176, 190, 198, 209, 224, 229,
231, 235, 240, 246, 263, 267, 273, 283, 323,
343, 349, 353, 360–362, 370, 374, 377, 380,
382, 384, 398, 400, 405, 409, 415, 419, 424,
598 Index
427, 433, 450, 455, 457–459, 468, 470, 491,
505, 509, 532, 534, 555, 559, 565, 571, 584,
586, 589
non-formal 48, 52–54, 226, 287–289, 295, 301
non-traditional 200, 230, 259, 296
O’Leary, E. x, 327, 341–346, 348, 350
Odena, O. 34, 44, 109, 116, 163, 174, 374, 389,
392, 401, 516
oppressed 70, 136, 147, 312, 322, 362, 394, 566
oppression 28, 136, 142, 257, 302
optimal 87–89, 109, 114, 150, 398
Partti, H. 330, 338, 380, 387
pedagogy 1, 9, 12, 31, 48, 52–54, 59, 62, 70, 97,
116, 118, 120, 122, 124, 127, 131, 133, 135,
137, 145–150, 161, 175, 178, 184, 195, 197,
200, 203–205, 187, 226, 244, 252, 257–259,
268, 270, 275, 297, 300–302, 309–312,
314–318, 321–323, 325, 339, 344, 346, 348,
351, 355, 362, 373, 398, 403, 406, 415, 427,
457, 459, 461, 463–465, 467, 469, 471, 490,
516, 525, 527, 529–531, 533, 535, 537, 541,
545, 554–556, 565, 568
phenomenology 44, 198, 362, 438, 443, 451, 458,
469, 471, 524
philosophy 10, 12, 21, 25, 31, 34, 43, 60, 62,
65, 70, 89, 122, 132, 147, 189, 257, 264, 267,
270, 275, 280, 289, 301, 313, 317, 320, 325,
351, 362, 373, 399, 414, 433, 458, 468–470,
490, 507–509, 511, 516, 522, 524, 566, 568,
572, 582
Pignato, J. M. 288, 297, 481, 490, 539, 542, 553
Plato 36, 61, 64, 70
play 1, 7, 11, 38, 40, 42, 56, 61–71, 83, 89, 95, 97,
100, 105, 109, 115, 131, 135, 150, 152, 170,
176, 194, 200–203, 206, 209, 212, 214–216,
220, 223, 229, 234, 236, 267, 274, 278, 295,
300, 307, 310, 313, 321, 330–332, 335, 337,
340–342, 345, 350, 354, 358–361, 363, 366,
368, 371, 382, 389, 394, 419, 430, 432–434,
436, 440, 445, 457–461, 463, 466–468, 480,
484–489, 509, 527, 529, 532, 544–546, 549,
569, 574, 581, 589
policy 31, 48, 50, 60, 78, 116, 118, 132, 258, 275,
281, 286, 325, 373, 391, 397, 403, 410, 515,
524, 567, 580, 584
popular 8, 12, 24, 38, 46, 51, 59, 80, 115, 121, 128,
136, 139, 142, 144–147, 149, 153–155, 157,
161, 164, 171, 174, 197–206, 209, 212, 215f.,
222, 226, 230, 238, 241, 244, 252, 256–258,
265, 270, 273, 275, 287–292, 294, 296–298,
302, 308, 313, 339, 343, 351, 356, 388, 391,
415–420, 439, 445, 464, 478, 489–491, 495,
539–553, 589
practitioners 13, 19, 52, 53, 94, 96, 131, 251, 261,
270, 274, 466, 468, 501, 515, 517, 527, 529,
569, 589
praxial 44, 267, 320, 564–556, 565
praxis viii, xii, xxiv, 4, 31, 90, 93–103, 147, 257,
259, 311, 314, 330, 353, 357, 361, 466, 468,
470, 503, 554, 564–566
produce 57, 65, 70, 76, 89, 139, 144, 158, 168,
213, 220, 225, 232, 271, 310, 361, 370, 392,
394, 397, 408, 462–464, 589
producers xviii, xxiii, 10, 26, 43, 90, 139, 145,
150, 155, 161, 165, 170, 203, 205, 222, 224,
227, 245, 248, 252, 296, 303, 305, 386, 401,
405, 419, 422, 425, 464, 500, 580, 589
progressive 81, 83, 115, 263–268, 271–275,
277, 391
project-based 9, 270, 272, 296, 525, 539, 541, 544,
549, 553
psychology 10, 44, 89, 116, 121, 147, 165, 174,
179, 184, 197, 239, 251, 258, 274, 312, 325,
340, 362, 374, 397–422, 406, 413–415, 424,
455, 458, 469–472, 474, 478, 490, 503, 507,
516, 522, 524, 536–538, 579, 582
psychosocial 199, 492, 496, 503
purpose 4, 20, 35, 49, 61, 72, 76, 87, 89, 122, 129,
157, 164, 168, 171, 173, 178, 183, 186, 195,
229, 232, 245, 282–284, 291, 337, 344, 348,
359, 364, 377, 391, 397, 415, 437, 474, 480,
491, 544, 569, 582
purposeful 100, 186, 236, 280, 405, 520, 576
qualitative 31, 73, 124, 132, 161, 187, 189, 236,
248, 252, 269, 274, 276, 293, 305, 331, 337,
351, 353, 362, 364, 366, 373, 392, 400, 430,
445, 449, 469, 471, 503, 507, 519, 524, 530,
536, 542, 556, 558
qualities xvii, 25, 47, 62, 64–66, 69, 71, 76, 83, 86,
87–89, 94, 121, 126, 142, 157, 158, 163, 173,
185, 217, 219–221, 231, 236, 252, 255, 258,
284, 306, 318, 321, 335, 337, 339, 349, 359,
363, 370, 388, 393, 395–397, 406, 412, 431,
436, 451, 452, 462, 493, 497, 503, 522, 528,
534, 535, 575
race 23, 25, 29–32, 37, 105, 144, 147, 257, 265,
304, 455, 566
racial 27, 136, 147, 191, 280, 297, 443, 476,
555, 564
racism 28, 140, 173, 257
Randles, C. 1, 3, 6, 8, 10–12, 80, 82, 84, 86, 88,
90, 104, 107, 116, 173, 201, 203–205, 216, 224,
227, 230, 240, 272, 288, 297, 329, 339, 362,
374, 387, 389, 392, 401, 427, 435, 440, 464,
470, 477, 479, 488–490, 517, 520, 522–525,
529, 537, 539, 541, 553, 578, 580–582, 584,
586, 588, 590
rapper 141, 151, 248, 306, 418
recordings 9, 15, 20, 29, 71, 73, 109, 125, 150,
157, 160, 165–167, 200, 212, 217–227, 232,
235, 237, 249, 250, 270, 281, 286, 291, 292,
303, 305–308, 332, 334, 342, 360, 378, 379,
429, 437, 449, 464, 478, 481, 484, 501, 507,
547, 548, 551, 558, 565

records 75, 93, 97, 103, 104, 113, 116, 153, 157,
160–162, 165–167, 218, 221–226, 230, 233,
241, 245, 249–251, 256, 293, 302, 314, 332,
360, 364, 417, 419, 439, 484, 546, 551, 566
reflexivity 100, 519, 524, 533, 535
reform xviii, xxiii, 104, 118, 265, 297, 315,
321, 400
reframing 162, 205, 384, 454, 477, 490, 535
Reichling, M. 61–64, 66, 70
relationships 23, 25, 37, 41, 55, 76, 79, 109,
114, 170, 193, 195, 199, 214, 236, 251, 273,
278, 280, 299, 308, 317, 321, 330, 336, 338,
349, 352, 355, 358, 361, 406, 429, 437, 441,
445–447, 451–453, 458, 461–464, 466–468,
474–476, 501, 505, 508, 520, 527–530, 535,
538, 543, 575, 577, 586
relevance 70, 130, 137, 283, 286, 331, 377, 405,
441, 443, 450, 458, 474, 562
representation 35, 63, 96, 100, 102, 142, 145,
181, 230, 241, 293, 330, 344, 447, 458, 480,
500–502, 520–522, 540
resilience 147, 251, 379, 385, 415, 427,
476–478, 502
Richerme, K. 64, 70, 265, 267, 275, 568, 579
rock xv, xxiv, 57, 109, 147, 150, 162, 167,
174, 176, 184, 194, 199–201, 211, 224, 234,
237, 241, 249, 256, 269, 296, 300, 331, 333,
337, 344, 419, 480, 483, 487, 489–491, 513,
546, 550
Runco, M. A. 285, 287, 339, 389, 398, 400, 402
Ruthmann, A. 200, 204, 227, 275, 312, 351
Ryals, L. 133, 175, 188, 190
Saldaña, J. 186, 189, 269, 276, 344, 351
salience 62, 427, 429, 435, 439, 458
Salvador 91, 93, 96, 98, 100, 102–105, 252
samples 139, 220, 307, 392, 481, 483
sampling 124, 401
Sawyer, R. K. 6, 12, 72, 79, 82, 90, 100, 105, 228,
240, 460, 465, 471, 505, 516, 539, 545, 553
Schiavio, A. 329, 338, 458, 460–463, 465,
467, 471
Schippers, H. 71, 79, 312, 555, 567
schooling 57, 144, 147, 150, 253, 261, 272, 312,
317, 385, 516, 527, 535
schools 10, 20, 34, 46–54, 59, 80, 82, 88, 94,
103, 114, 116–120, 122, 126, 130–132, 142,
146, 172, 184, 188, 192, 206, 218, 225, 242,
244, 252–254, 259, 263–267, 274, 277, 281,
288, 300, 343, 364, 370, 372, 391, 394–398,
401–403, 415, 452, 489, 516, 528, 535, 537,
553, 569, 573–575, 585–587, 589, 591
secondary ix, xi, xvi, xxiii–xxv, 45, 48, 53, 59, 75,
117–119, 132, 172, 179, 184, 186, 190, 192,
196, 199, 202, 204, 216, 223, 227, 229, 231,
239, 243, 253, 259, 263, 269, 276, 281, 286,
297, 300, 302, 305, 313, 318–320, 324, 339,
358, 364, 368, 370, 397, 400, 415, 474, 505,
507, 516, 527, 544, 548, 553, 579
Index  599
self xiii, 19, 28, 56, 135, 143, 169, 241, 258, 268,
273, 353, 356, 384, 407, 411, 429, 433, 435,
465, 470, 487, 498, 503, 554, 557, 559–561,
565, 586
self-concept 230, 237, 252, 580
self-confidence 231, 242, 245, 249, 420
self-determination 100, 246, 248, 258, 281
self-efficacy 249, 252, 389, 397, 409, 413,
536, 586
self-esteem 196, 200, 250, 252, 318, 474, 497
self-expression 139, 185, 242, 253, 515, 555, 565
self-guided 325, 559, 563
self-organizing 458, 460, 464, 466
self-reflection 109, 247, 324, 353, 410, 495, 533,
554, 560–562, 564, 575
self-regulation 96, 127, 409, 414, 536, 538
self-worth 65, 69, 500
sense 1, 4, 6, 13, 25, 28, 38, 42, 51, 54, 58, 65, 69,
83, 86, 89, 94, 107, 136, 138, 143, 151, 158,
169–171, 173, 181, 183, 188, 194, 213, 222,
230, 256, 258, 303, 306, 310, 320, 322, 327,
347, 352, 354, 356, 359, 376, 383, 396, 407,
409–411, 419, 426, 431, 450, 458, 463, 470,
488, 505–508, 511–515, 521, 534, 538, 556,
561, 565, 577
sense-making 459–461, 463, 466, 469–472
service 79, 97, 120, 197, 224, 245, 247, 281, 395,
417, 478, 500, 568–571, 577
service-learning 525, 568, 571, 573–580
Shevock, D. 7, 12, 458, 471, 481, 490
Silverman, M. 1, 4, 7, 12, 21, 24, 26, 28–32, 80,
87, 89, 161, 173, 185, 189, 266, 275, 317, 319,
325, 406, 415, 457, 464–467, 469, 471, 490,
517, 523, 554–556, 565–567
Sindberg, L. K. 107–109, 113, 116, 572, 576,
578, 580
singing 40, 44, 61, 65–67, 69, 93, 96, 100, 102,
105, 132, 143, 157, 159, 175, 200, 206, 209,
214, 216, 266, 277, 312, 319, 371, 431, 455,
492, 501, 545
skills 8, 10, 27, 37, 43, 51, 55, 63, 66, 71–74, 76,
79, 95, 97, 103, 105, 107, 112, 118, 127, 131,
141, 145, 172, 176, 178, 185, 189, 194, 196,
198, 200, 203, 213, 241, 243, 246, 248–250,
252, 254–256, 264, 272, 274, 276, 278,
280–286, 288, 294, 303, 309, 314, 316–321,
324, 330–332, 337–339, 341, 346, 349, 358,
360, 364, 366, 369, 375, 379, 381, 383, 386, 391,
397–399, 401–403, 407, 414, 421, 423, 434,
454, 457, 465–467, 471, 501, 516, 533–536,
539, 543, 546, 548–550, 573, 579, 586
sociocultural 6, 34, 74, 82, 89, 116, 135, 145, 240,
267, 280, 285, 305, 330, 349, 389, 391, 420,
435, 445, 467, 480, 506, 514
socio-economic 73, 76, 242, 271, 300
sociological 34, 36, 198, 258, 314
sociology 10, 44, 59, 121, 174, 265, 311, 313, 399,
406, 530, 536
Söderman, J. 148, 242, 244, 259, 302, 308, 314
600 Index
software 29, 71, 77, 121, 124, 128, 162, 165, 187,
217, 220–222, 230, 246, 253, 292, 329, 333–336,
380, 383, 449, 458, 508, 511, 516, 551
songs 16, 39, 88, 96, 104, 109, 137–140, 142,
150–152, 154–156, 162, 185–187, 191–197,
206, 209–212, 215, 221, 224, 237, 241, 279,
282, 286, 290, 294, 297, 300, 313, 325, 342,
344, 346, 350, 483–486, 489, 496, 500, 544,
548–550, 552, 560, 573
songwriters 111, 150, 171, 191–194, 195, 196,
218, 222–224, 261, 278, 294, 381, 539
songwriting 107, 109, 115, 133, 147, 149–153,
155, 157–159, 161, 167, 175–197, 200, 203,
205, 212, 217, 223, 227, 290, 293, 297, 385,
389, 540, 542, 544, 546, 548, 550, 552, 583
Sorensen, N. 114, 427, 429, 432, 434–436,
438–440
soul 141, 185, 241, 249, 376, 385, 497
soundtracks 222, 241, 249, 344, 478, 513
Soundtrap 152, 157, 217, 219–221, 225, 542,
548, 551
spirit 11, 27, 114, 242, 263, 274, 370, 381–384,
411, 439, 523
spiritual 11, 89, 310, 379, 385, 407, 411, 427, 481,
488–491, 524, 529, 568–573, 577, 580
spirituality 70, 299, 362, 406, 413, 427, 431,
474, 480–482, 488–490, 521, 524, 568–573,
575–580
story 8, 38, 63, 68, 81, 89, 136, 149, 151, 157, 206,
239, 246, 275, 303, 351, 370, 387, 418, 427,
440, 501, 519, 522
storytelling 113, 136, 138, 144, 241, 258, 347,
350, 416, 418, 423, 502
Stringham, D. A. 231, 240, 363, 374, 477, 479
student-centered 6, 9, 175, 203, 238, 406, 525,
539, 541, 548, 554, 559, 562, 565
studios 125, 150, 161, 166, 217–221, 224–226,
251, 274, 292, 303, 305, 308, 347, 349, 414,
422, 425, 428, 437, 507, 527, 531, 534, 585,
587, 589
Sullivan, S. 44, 184, 378, 386, 388, 415, 516
Suncoast 6, 12, 44, 477–479, 506, 517–521,
523, 571
sustainability 169–171, 199, 583
sustaining 97, 105, 114, 118, 127, 133, 145, 149,
151, 153, 155, 157, 159, 161, 173, 462, 474,
525, 555, 566
Swanwick, K. xxviii, 209, 216
Sweden xx, xxiv, 175, 184, 373, 381
Swedish 175, 183
Sydney 244, 252, 258, 269, 271, 274, 299–301,
303, 306, 312, 314
Szabo, T. P. 104, 145, 148, 466, 471
tablets 200–202, 217, 220
Tampa 3, 12, 215, 427, 478, 517
teacher-centered 203, 315–318, 320, 323
teachers 7–10, 21, 29, 33–35, 42, 45–47, 49–51,
53–55, 58, 60, 63, 65, 67–72, 74, 77, 88,
94–97, 99–105, 107–110, 115–124, 127–132,
137, 142, 147, 161, 163, 172, 174–176, 182,
185, 189, 192, 196, 200, 203, 210–217, 219,
224, 238, 241, 243–245, 253–258, 264, 267,
270, 272, 276, 281, 283, 286, 296, 300, 303,
305, 310, 312, 315, 317, 327, 329, 338–340,
355, 357, 363–367, 369–372, 375, 390–403,
405, 408–412, 422, 425, 448, 451, 464–466,
368, 474, 478, 489, 506–509, 511, 514, 520,
522, 527–537, 545, 553–556, 566, 569–574,
576–579, 582–584, 586
technology 26, 31, 71, 74, 76–79, 97, 117,
120–122, 126, 131, 161, 175, 190, 197, 199,
204–207, 215, 217–220, 223–227, 229–232,
236, 239, 244, 246, 249, 253–255, 257, 259,
270, 276, 278, 283, 291, 295, 297, 312, 329,
332, 339, 342, 349, 351, 376, 382–384, 398,
400, 403, 405, 412, 414, 416, 423–425, 438,
441, 454, 460, 476, 490, 509, 538, 541, 544,
551, 572, 589
theology 572, 578–580
therapy 185, 189, 192, 195–197, 215, 250, 258,
425, 476, 500
Thibeault, M. D. 241, 257, 259, 341, 348, 351,
556, 567
think 1, 3, 8, 11, 28, 35, 54–57, 65, 69, 78, 80,
84–86, 88, 109, 114, 117, 120, 127, 146,
151–153, 156, 159, 168, 170, 182, 188, 196,
213, 237, 249, 264, 273, 294, 302, 306, 309,
322, 379, 386, 389, 394, 399, 419, 431, 437,
453, 460, 463, 467, 469, 477, 487, 501, 503,
513, 516, 520, 523, 531, 537, 560, 562, 570,
573, 575, 578, 581, 586
thinkers 131, 377, 457, 464, 466, 483, 506, 517
thinking 3, 7–9, 11, 20, 24, 33–35, 43–46, 49–51,
56–59, 69, 73, 75–80, 82, 84–86, 96, 100,
108–113, 116, 129, 144, 146, 151, 167, 172,
174–177, 181–184, 189, 200, 238–240, 251,
264, 270, 273, 276, 280, 282, 285–288, 290,
294, 296, 316, 319, 324, 327, 330, 338, 357, 374,
384, 389–391, 397–403, 408, 415, 417, 420,
424, 437, 441, 444, 460, 466, 468–470, 483,
506, 516, 528, 530, 532, 535–537, 539–542,
544, 549–553, 563, 576, 580–587, 589
Thorpe,V. 331, 338, 340
TikTok 222, 226, 404, 414
Tillman, J. 209, 216
timbres 38, 40, 65, 106, 158, 222, 231, 250, 334,
356, 439
Tobias, E. S. 137, 145, 148, 186, 190, 192, 197,
200, 205–207, 210, 216, 222, 226, 241, 243,
259, 288, 297, 302, 314, 539, 541, 553
tools 23, 25, 29, 34, 37, 43, 69–71, 73, 77, 113,
123–125, 128, 130–132, 175, 178, 181, 184,
198, 200, 217, 220, 239, 251, 269, 333, 363,
374, 409, 416, 418, 421, 423, 449, 451, 460,
462, 465, 481, 508, 528, 589
tracking 102, 450, 461, 580
tracks 142, 152, 155, 158, 162, 198, 202, 219, 221,
225, 241, 251, 258, 312, 332, 334, 337, 484,
487, 545, 548, 574

trans 31, 184, 196, 216, 538, 590
trauma 22, 190, 195, 252, 300, 415, 476, 480,
495, 501
truth 4, 60, 63, 67, 139, 141, 143, 249, 301, 396,
440, 476, 578
tuning 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 157, 353, 358
Turino, T. 29, 32, 341, 348, 351
ubiquitous 10, 167, 396, 443, 448, 454–456, 551
ukulele 191, 327, 341–351, 549
understand 3, 6, 8, 11, 17, 20, 50, 53, 55, 61, 64,
67–69, 72, 76, 80, 83, 89, 94, 96, 102, 118, 136,
144, 173, 176, 186, 192, 195, 204, 207, 251,
254, 269, 278, 285, 290, 320, 364, 367, 378,
382, 391, 408, 411, 416, 421, 423, 427, 430,
437, 460, 464, 468, 475, 493, 510, 520, 522,
525, 530, 534, 541, 545, 548, 550, 556, 561,
570, 572, 587
understandings 1, 4, 14, 17, 23, 25, 31, 33, 36–38,
46, 48, 49–51, 53, 56, 59, 61, 64, 67, 69, 71,
73, 75, 78, 80, 83–85, 89, 91, 95, 108, 110,
112, 117, 120, 122, 128–130, 135, 137, 139,
146, 149, 168, 171, 173, 174, 177, 179, 185,
193, 198, 200, 206, 207, 213, 228, 231, 237,
240–242, 245, 250–252, 257, 263, 276, 278,
289–291, 294, 296, 299, 301–303, 305, 309,
310, 312, 317, 319–324, 337, 342, 359, 361,
364, 373, 380, 390, 392, 401, 405, 407–409,
414, 421, 423, 427, 429, 433, 438, 444, 451,
455, 457, 461, 464–368, 470, 472, 479, 482,
485, 489, 492, 495, 505, 507, 517, 519–521,
523–525, 527–530, 532–537, 539, 541, 544,
546, 548, 550–552, 554, 555, 556, 559–565,
569–572, 574, 577, 585, 586, 589
valid 49, 56, 150, 361, 441
validation 199, 392, 401, 503
validity 105, 128, 392, 402, 507, 556
vernacular 136, 207, 213, 215, 296, 342–344,
347, 349
virtual 23, 77, 114, 120, 124, 127, 198, 202,
212, 222–225, 227, 257, 270, 290, 329–331,
333–336, 338, 351, 377, 380–382, 385–388,
416, 421, 424, 431, 444, 517, 539, 541, 543,
545, 547, 549, 551–553
voice 4, 9, 11, 13, 25, 28, 40, 44, 54, 58, 61, 63,
66–70, 129, 136, 138, 142, 144–146, 153, 157,
Index  601
160, 179, 195, 218, 239, 241, 245, 267, 289,
302, 345, 354, 359, 362, 374, 429, 432–438,
492, 495–497, 499–503, 506, 509, 512,
522, 548
vulnerability 30, 241, 313, 316, 407, 410, 412
Vygotsky, L. S. 178, 182, 184, 406, 415
Waldron J. 32, 313, 329, 340–342, 344, 351
Wallas, G. 76, 79, 290, 297, 389, 403
Wallerstedt, C. viii, xxv, 175, 178, 180, 182, 184
Walzer, D. 222, 227, 406, 415
Webster, P. R. xxviii, 33–35, 44, 76–79, 135, 176,
183, 228, 240, 279, 293, 297, 363, 375, 406,
414, 506, 516, 525, 539, 541, 553, 569, 580
Welch, G. F. 47, 52, 59, 104, 109, 116, 174, 206,
216, 312, 389, 413–415, 516
West 13, 46, 60, 178, 207, 212, 216, 300, 432, 500,
553, 556, 566, 589
Westerlund, H. 314, 330, 338, 385, 387
WhatsApp 124, 416
Whitacre, E. 381, 385–388
Wiggins, J. H. xxviii, 104, 229, 232, 236, 240, 312,
374, 403, 470, 539, 553
Williams, D. A. xxvi, 9, 12, 80, 90, 162, 201, 204,
224, 227, 230, 240, 243, 246, 259, 273, 277,
288, 298, 318, 325, 425, 539, 541, 553, 589
Woody, R. H. 330, 338, 340, 575, 580
worship xxiii, 474, 571, 573, 578
Wright R. 46, 52, 59, 174, 258, 263, 277, 313
writing 11, 46, 51, 128, 141, 143, 145, 150, 153,
156, 160, 167, 172, 185, 188, 195, 212, 222,
241, 243, 252, 263, 270, 290–294, 303, 305,
335, 343, 353, 357, 363, 366, 371, 375, 401,
410, 425, 431, 475, 482, 487, 489, 495, 500,
545, 563, 570, 573
Yacht, L. ix, xxvi, 4, 261, 315, 318, 320, 322, 324
Yob, I. M. 21, 414, 490, 571, 580
Younker, B. A. 101, 104, 236, 239, 336, 339, 540,
552
youtube 30, 89, 124, 128, 146, 160, 175, 202, 215,
219, 222, 225–227, 257–259, 286, 303, 313,
327, 341–345, 347–351, 386–388, 394, 404,
416, 545–550, 552
Zack x, xxii, xxv, 352, 354, 357, 359
Zoom, M. 124, 128, 377, 481, 519, 542, 548, 579