Reflecting on the value of the canon in Western music.

February 2021

The discussion of the musical canon has provided a glimpse into opinions and views of music which I have never been exposed to before, which has been beneficial in the sense of growing in knowledge and character, but it also brought many frustrations and struggles the more I learned.  The short answer to the question of whether I believe the canon is valuable is yes.  There is a reason that certain composers come to mind when we discuss “the greats”.  It helps us reflect upon who those composers are and who we would like to know more about.  I think there are two ways to look at the canon.  It can be viewed as an unfair representation of composers and musicians or it can be seen as an opportunity to expand our knowledge and appreciation for the classic composers as well as those who are not so well known. 

The canon forces us to reflect on the impact of music and musicians, but I think we have a tendency to overlook the many levels on which we are influenced.  Society can be affected, but what about the smaller groups that are impacted by a particular piece of music or composer?  What about the sentimentality that a certain song has for a certain family because it was sung throughout a journey through childhood?  Or the way that we are moved so deeply on an individual basis because something about that music is so personal and touches our very souls?  These are some questions that came up as I read and listened to the material in the course so far, and I think they have helped me to consider the value of the canon.

It has been my observation that when any subject is discussed in an academic setting, the focus is on how these things—music, art, history, science, math, business—impact society as a whole, or larger communities such as a state or county or even university.  But I see a tendency to almost shy away from talking about what all this means on a personal level.  I can listen to other people talk about their opinions on things as much as I want, but will that help me to discern what is most important to me?  Will it help me get to know myself, and then be better able to know how to serve those around me?  I think the canon is incredibly valuable if we are able to make it personal and not get caught up in the problems which society stirs up to divide people.

My favorite reading thus far is without a doubt the article on Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel, particularly the letter which was written about her by her brother Felix.  When I read this letter, I was so excited to finally find an example in this class of music being personal!  I could hardly believe what I read.  The frustration for many with Fanny’s story is undoubtably that she is not often listed on the canon, whereas her brother is, and that is a direct result of her being a woman.  As we discussed in class, her work was not necessarily put out to be published, since that was not her goal in life.  Her brother said it in a touching way when he said, “Fanny, as I know her, has neither desire nor vocation for authorship; in addition, she is too much a wife, as is right, brings up her Sebastian and takes care of her house, and thinks neither of the public nor of the musical world, nor even of music, except when this first vocation is fulfilled.”  Fanny made music because she loved music, because it was something personal, and she was at peace with not having it be her main occupation.  While this seems to cause many women much angst, I find it truly inspiring that Fanny was a gifted musician who did not receive the accolades she may have deserved.  I have always loved the stories of unknown people, those who lived good lives and were not well known in the eyes of the world but who touched individual people and made such a beautiful difference in such a quiet way.  Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel strikes me as that same sort of character.  I had not even heard of her before taking this class, and yet what I take away from what I have learned is not that she was underappreciated because she was a woman, but rather that she embraced her role as a wife and mother while never losing her love for music.  This is what I dream of doing one day.  Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel may not be included on the canon that most people would come up with, but she has made my list, and not even because of her great music which is underappreciated.  She has made the canon in my mind because she chose not to follow a career with music, but simply maintain her music as she lived as a wife and mother.  This is not a political statement, as the canon seems to be turned into far too often.  It is a personal one, a reflection and appreciation for a story which has touched me deeply and which I consider to be very valuable in my own personal life.  Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel may not be on anyone else’s list in the canon, but that does not matter.  She has made an impression on my life, and even if that is all she has done, she has done something good.  This is a very concrete example of how I took the canon and personalized it, which is where I see the value in the canon.  However, there is also the other side of focusing too much on how the canon offends and leaves out groups of people, which can backfire and really get in the way of our own personal development.

Two readings in particular brought about reflection on how academic settings once again often bring out more division than unity.  The discussion about whether or not Beethoven was black seems to only take away from what music is all about: bringing people together.  There is a push to spend so much time on why we are leaving people out of the canon and not wanting to offend anyone that there is complete loss of understanding that music was not meant as a political statement.  This is not to say that everything in music history has always been perfectly fair.  Life is very often unfair, and I think it is important to not ignore that but be able to accept it and move on.  The push is that we should not care about skin color, but when we do not seem to be able to talk about a European composer without being concerned with race, I cannot help but wonder if we are not getting too carried away with division instead of focusing on unity.  In the Broyles reading on Beethoven being black, there was a syllogism shared which I think is a fair summary of the whole discussion going too far. 

“Beethoven was indeed black.  We can derive this through this simple formula.  1. Only oppressed people make great music.  2. Beethoven had no other means of being oppressed.  3. Beethoven made great music.  :.Beethoven was black.” 

I think this shows multiple flaws in this debate.  Declaring that only oppressed people make music is simply not true, unless you are coming from the argument that everyone is oppressed at some point in their lives.  Ironically, that statement seems discriminatory.  I do not believe that there is a conspiracy behind hiding the truth about Beethoven’s race.  Personally, I never think about a musician’s race unless it is brought up in a discussion such as this, and I would argue that most people would not consider it unless society forces it upon them.  It should not be an issue what color his skin was, but society will make it a problem, and the canon is a perfect way to keep this discussion alive and dividing people instead of uniting them.  In this way, the canon hinders our ability to connect with each other and appreciate the music and composers on a personal level.  If there is a lack in ability to make it personal, the canon should be avoided if potential injustices which may or may not be able to be proven are not let go by those who discuss it.  

Similarly, the discussion on Wagner’s music being banned because his family had connections with Hitler as well as his own personal disapproval towards Jews is getting away from the point that his music is something beautiful.  This is not to disregard a person’s faults, but is it not also important that we not only forgive a person’s mistakes but also acknowledge and give credit for a person’s good deeds?  Would we not feel discouraged and treated unfairly if our good works were always pushed aside because of our mistakes?  It becomes a very human experience when we look at it on a personal level and try to put ourselves in the situation, which I would argue music helps us to do.  What Wagner said about Jews in the reading by Brown was wrong.  I do not think any reasonable person would deny that.  Something that bothered me the most was his disgust about the music in the synagogue, when he said it was of “the greatest corruption” and did not have “any development or movement of inner life.”  Music is always a spiritual experience for me, and I often reflect upon how opinions on church music tend to divide members of the same congregation or parish, not to mention putting up a stubborn wall between people of different faiths.  In my own life, I see so much division and judgement among Catholics within the argument that traditional Latin or more contemporary hymns are superior to the other.  To dislike a certain style of music is one thing, and everyone has that right.  But claiming that one is greater than the other is a completely different argument, and who is to say what type of music is “better” than others?  Wagner, like all of us, had his preferences with church music.  The music in the synagogues did not move him spiritually, which is perfectly valid.  I do not turn to Gregorian chant when I am trying to find spiritual nourishment.  His mistake was in his declaration that because he did not like the Jewish music on a personal level, it was automatically unacceptable.  Most people would agree that this is not an ideal approach.  And yet there seems to be little consideration for the fact that because some people associate Wagner’s music with discrimination that hurts them on a personal level, it is necessary to ban his music.  If Wagner were disregarded as an influential composer for this reason, it would be the same as him claiming Jewish music should be outlawed because he does not appreciate it.  Is this not the kind of approach we are trying to avoid?  These discussions with Wagner and Beethoven are prime examples of what can happen when the canon is viewed primarily as a source of cases of discrimination and inequality rather than a tool with which to better understand the personal influences music and composers have had on ourselves and those around us.

There is tremendous importance in learning and discussing opinions and viewpoints which contradict or vary slightly from our own.  That is how we get to know the world beyond our comfort zones, which is necessary for thriving in the world.  But I would argue that we forget about really understanding and being able to articulate what touches us as individuals, and we even push it aside too much so that we are unable to step back and remember that music (or any other subject) is something personal.  So far, our class discussions about Wagner and Beethoven have made me question the value of the canon.  On the other hand, Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel’s story has overcome those doubts with the personal inspiration she has given me.  Everything worthwhile must be personal.  I believe that the canon is very valuable because it shows what is personal, whether that is one person or a larger community.  I do not think that the canon itself is at fault for the problems which arise from discussing composers who have made the list, but rather the people who limit themselves to thinking only of how the canon reflects society rather than also considering how it reflects their own personal lives.

Reflecting on the role of patronage and gender in the world of music.

March 2021

The discussion of patronage was an interesting subject which I had not previously given much thought to, but I found to be both an intriguing and influential aspect of music.  When I stop to consider outside forces in music, I think about the time period, what was going on in the composer’s life when he/she wrote the music and past and present personal experiences of the composer.  I never think about who is commissioning the music to be written in the first place.  I found it quite fascinating that many women were patrons of notable musicians and composers, and I grew curious enough to investigate some more modern examples.  Patronage is a subject which I do not typically spend time considering and adding the role of gender to that is even less likely to cross my mind.  However, the past several weeks have shown me a new perspective which I find valuable and unique in how it challenges me to consider other outside forces influencing the writing and performing of music.

The most striking reading for this unit was the Babbitt article and his argument that highly influential music would not be possible without patrons.  This started my thoughts going in the direction of patronage, leading on to the specific role of women patrons as well.  In the last line of his article, Babbitt says that without substantial and public financial support, “music will cease to evolve, and, in that important sense, will cease to live.”  In the overall sense of music and patronage, I disagree with this statement.  I think that music will always continue to thrive and impact individual lives as long as there are people who will continue to make music and share it with others.  As I see it, the more important and relevant question would be how musicians are able to get their music out in the world with the help of certain patrons, rather than debating whether or not music would reach anyone at all without patrons.  Considering this, I next look at the examples we discussed in class and how many patrons were women.

Back in the 1700s through early 1900s, the role of women was not as public as it is now.  Given this reality, whether you agree with it or not, it makes sense that women were primarily patrons rather than musicians/composers.  I do not approach this question as whether women receive equal opportunities as men.  Instead, I have been considering the role of gender in patronage as something interesting to observe change over time, as societal values shift and evolve.  During this time, women mostly ran households and raised children.  That’s just how things were, and I do not mean that in a negative way at all.  Women’s roles were not the same as they are now.  So, even though women in the musical world tended to be patrons, that was not a bad thing.  However, there seem to have been some relationships which were not what they should have been.  The example that sticks in my mind is Nadezhda von Meck’s support of Tchiakovsky.  As we discussed in class, this was an unfortunate situation in that Nadezhda was looking for more than just a musician to support financially.  She appeared to have been looking for friendship, at least, and Tchiakovsky did not appear to have the same desire nor respect for Nadezhda’s wishes in this regard.  I think this is a very human mistake, not special to patrons and musicians, and is simply unfortunate and really such a loss that this relationship was based so firmly on the financial support provided.  Human relationships, no matter what the situation, ought to be more personal.  With the story of Nadezhda and Tchiakovsky, that is what strikes me the most, that patronage could be so much more than this basic financial support.

As I moved past the general question about the significance of gender in patronage, I began to look at more modern examples, some we discussed in class and another that I found in researching for this paper.  My focus shifted slightly to how patronage has gone from the common scenario of women patrons to looking at some forms of patronage today.  In class, we touched on a situation with Amy Grant.  She is a Christian artist, but as she continued her career as a singer-songwriter, her music became less obviously Christ-centered.  Between 1985 and 1987, Grant released a few albums which stirred up great debate about the genre with which her music is primarily associated.  The Tennessee Encyclopedia states that she “broke the contemporary Christian mold” as she wrote new songs which were “produced with the pop mainstream in mind”.  I am a fan of some of Grant’s older, Christian songs, and I found this story absolutely fascinating.  It brought some relevance to this topic of patronage, which was just a vague subject for me before taking this class.  There was such a dramatic issue when Grant stepped outside the lines, so to speak, of what her patrons expected of her.  This also led me to wonder who her patrons were.  I came to the conclusion that the record company, maybe an agent, fellow musicians with whom she played, and the audiences and fans which supported her would all fall under the category as patrons.  It’s not the exact same idea as the strict patronage sense, which was around in the 1700s, but if you consider patronage as a way of supporting an artist, I believe all of these groups would be included.  Along these same lines, the idea that audiences and fans can be a sort of contemporary patron is an idea which I looked into even further.

As I began working on this paper, I recalled a singer who is fairly popular on YouTube and something that he always says in his videos.  Peter Hollens primarily sings a capella covers of a wide variety of music, including folk songs, instrumental soundtracks, pop, Broadway and Disney.  I believe a friend recommended him to me once and I find his harmonies, all done by himself with multiple recordings put over each other, very clear and interesting to listen to, as it is fairly easy to pick out the separate parts.  I remembered in recent weeks, though, that at the end of his videos he asks viewers to “support his art on Patreon”.  So, I did some more digging. 

Patreon was a network put together in 2013 by Jack Conte, a YouTube musician, and his college roommate Sam Yam.  He came up with an idea to have his fans pay him directly so that he could earn enough money as well as give his fans a way to engage with his work in a more hands-on form.  Today, over 200,000 artists are financially supported by more than 6 million patrons, who are simply fans who want to help.  Now, I admit, this sounds almost too good to be true, and there are obviously going to be issues which are not clear right from the start.  However, I am utterly fascinated by this system!  It’s truly amazing to think how patrons went from being primarily women with a passion for music and a desire to support aspiring musicians to an organization where anyone can create and anyone can support as they please.  While this is not the only form of patronage in the modern world, I think it is a very good example of how much the role of patrons has developed and become a part of everyday life.  If I wanted to, I could go on Patreon and become a patron for Peter Hollens or the Pentatonix.  This system includes graphs and statistics sharing details such as how many followers/patrons an artist has on various platforms (YouTube, Twitter, etc.) along with summaries of the artist’s earnings both per video and per year.  Not only are there ways for countless fans to actively support their favorite musicians, but they also have access to information which lets them know how that artist is performing and being compensated.  Patreon is a contemporary model of patronage and symbolizes how this area of music has evolved.

Back in the 1700s, many musical patrons were women.  Today, there is a tendency to discuss this as an equality issue.  I would argue that it is more important and relevant to look at how patronage has changed over time, rather than dwell on what today’s society considers unfair to a specific group of people.  Gender did play a large role at one point, but I think that over time it has become less of a trend, unless society makes it the primary focus for debate.  As I reflected on the idea of patronage, I ended up with three main “pillars” to symbolize the different movements, if you will, of developing patronage.  My first example of early and traditional patrons is Nadezhda von Meck, who I think is a good image for discussing the typical women patron role during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.  Jumping to the 1980s, I love the example of Amy Grant and how her not so clearly Christian songs stirred up a concern among her patrons and fans about what she was producing.  This situation serves as a picture of how artists can break trends.  Finally, the founding of Patreon in 2013 is a fascinating culmination of years of technology and innovation among artists and entrepreneurs.  Patronage began as an area primarily dominated by women, but over the years has become much more fluid and accessible to the everyday audience member.  Gender did play a role in past years, but I think that role has since been removed from the scene.  Discussing and researching historical and contemporary musical patronage has truly been fascinating and has led me to consider it as another aspect of music of which I had previously little to no knowledge. 

In this piece, I analyze the dramatic elements of three Mozart concertos.

December 2021

This analysis will be considering and comparing the first movements of Mozart’s Flute Concerto in G, Horn Concerto in F, and Clarinet Concerto in A.  For each piece, three main questions will be discussed: 1) What is the role of the soloist in the ensemble?  2) How do the musical themes in both the solo and orchestra parts compare to each other?  3) How do the differences in the solo and orchestra roles connect to form a coherent concerto?

In the opening bars of the Flute Concerto, the soloist plays the main theme with the orchestra, which sets the scene for the solo being a lead in the ensemble.  Like most concertos, it steps out of the spotlight occasionally so that the orchestra holds the reigns for a bit.  Interestingly, this is a characteristic which does not appear in the other two Mozart concertos.  Of the three, the flute is the only soloist to play at the very beginning of the movement.  This presence immediately gives a hint to the listener that the soloist is the leader of the ensemble (see Figure 1). 

The soloist makes a statement to start the music, and then takes a step back for the ensemble to continue.  When the soloist returns in m. 31, it is the ensemble’s turn to drop out to simple 8^th notes while their leader carries the melody (see Figure 2).

This trade-off puts the audience in a mindset that the flute is the important one to pay attention to.  Dramatic entrances and exits of a particular instrument, especially a soloist, captures awareness from the listeners.  They know when to tune into the main attraction (the soloistic passages).

Aside from the opening, the melody is rarely played in complete unison by the soloist and orchestra members.  The flute leads the rest of the instruments in the main theme and then allows them to play alongside it, in the form of countermelodies, throughout the movement (see Figure 3).

While the orchestra’s role is primarily accompaniment branching away from the melody, it does return to play in unison with the soloist in the last bars of the movement (see Figure 4).

Although there are points throughout the music that feature the soloist and orchestra playing in unison, the most prominent moments when this is done is in the opening and closing measures.  By using this technique, Mozart states that the soloist is the leader of the ensemble, but also shows how the orchestra supports it by playing countermelodies and joining in the main theme to finish.

Throughout the movement, the orchestra seems to go off on its own path, winding back around to the main theme at the end.  Looking closer, though, there are moments when Mozart connects the two paths of the soloist and ensemble so that they are unified the entire time.  Beginning at m. 129, the accompaniment has dropped out almost entirely, but comes back in for various ornamental touches.  Specifically, the brief trills on the last beats of mm. 129, 131, and 133 (see Figure 5). 

These trills match up with the solo part, binding the instruments together even though they are playing independently.

Like the flute, the clarinetist in the Clarinet Concerto is clearly the leader of the ensemble.  The main way that Mozart makes this obvious is by having the orchestra play the same melody at the beginning which the soloist plays throughout, but with fewer embellishments.  Even though it is accomplished slightly differently, he once again starts the piece with a declaration of who is lead instrument.    

When introducing the main theme at the beginning of the movement, the orchestra plays a half note and 8^th notes (see violin part in Figure 6).  However, when the clarinet enters at m. 57, it adds 16^th notes I between the 8^th notes (see Figure 7).

The orchestra opens with the main theme, but once the solo enters at m. 57, most of the ensemble is just accompanying with 8^th notes, quarter notes, whole notes, and occasionally more complicated rhythms involving 16^th notes (see Figure 8).

The clarinet entrances usually have an introduction to the theme from the ensemble, then takes the solo and steals the spotlight.  In a way, it follows the lead of the orchestra, even though the main melody and attention is on the solo.

Of these three Mozart concertos, the Clarinet Concerto starts the solo the latest, at m. 57.  This is more of a build up to the virtuosic entrance of the clarinet, and the style of performing in a leadership capacity continues throughout the movement, with the clarinet always having a strong and loud presence and adding embellishments to the main themes.

Mozart’s Horn Concerto in D is a little bit different than his concertos for flute and clarinet.  In this work, the soloist is much more a part of the orchestra rather than a virtuoso.  The other concertos feature parts of or simplified versions of a melody in the orchestra before the solo, but in this one, the ensemble plays the exact same theme before the horn enters (see Figure 9). 

As seen in the beginning, the melody is shared more evenly between the soloist and the ensemble, with the horn taking over at m. 22.  It also balances between various countermelodies and themes, such as the 8^th notes in mm. 68-71 and the solo entering with a new theme in m. 72 (see Figure 10).

This horn part does not sound quite like a traditional concerto solo.  The soloist is almost just one of the orchestra members, so gently and inconspicuously are the solos woven into the rest of the piece.  Yet, it is also a leader, though in a different way than the flute and clarinet. By playing the main theme and having the rest of the ensemble imitate the exact rhythms and style, the horn is leading by example.

The soloist comes in gently at m. 22, refraining from the virtuosic style which might be expected from a concerto solo (see Figure 11).  This style enters more at m. 72, where the horn presents a new theme which the orchestra has not heard before.  Taking more of the spotlight than it did before, the audience realizes that this soloist is not just blending in with the crowd, but suddenly comes out in the open with a bold and rich solo, in a strong forte for the first time in the piece.

Given that the melody is shared more equally between the soloist and the ensemble (see Figure 9), it is clear that the Horn Concerto does not express the same showy sentiment as the other concertos.  While this piece is no less impressive to play, it has less soloistic character and more humility than the flute and clarinet appear to contain.

Considering these Mozart concertos, it is interesting to note that while they differ in specific details—such as when the soloist enters the piece and how the themes recur throughout—there are also certain similarities which carry across all three.  Each one has a distinctive solo voice which presents itself differently from the others, as well as contrasting parts which come together so all of the pieces connect.  In all of these, the various instruments, harmonies, themes, and countermelodies complement each other to make up beautiful music.

In a music history class, the final assignment was to argue for a certain piece that was not studied in the course to be added to the course materials for future semesters. This is my paper advocating for the second movement of the Mozart “Clarinet Concerto”.

December 2021

When looking at the syllabus for Music History I: Genre and Form, I became very excited to see the Mozart Clarinet Concerto on the course materials.  Once we reached the discussion, I found myself disappointed, as we only looked at the first movement.  I encourage and promote adding the second movement of this concerto to the class.  The first movement is effective for the study and discussion of form/organizational structure of a classical concerto, which is what we used it for in this class.  This discussion is a good starting point, as it is a standard example of a concerto which follows the typical structure of the genre.  However, the second movement is also worth our time and provides a useful means of discussion of musical aspects beyond form.  I propose that we add a study of the second movement of the Mozart Clarinet Concerto, in addition to looking at the first movement with the purpose of studying form.

Mozart wrote his famous Clarinet Concerto in 1791 for Anton Stadler to perform.  The original version of this piece was composed for Stadler’s basset clarinet, which he had designed with two extra pitches in the lower range of the instrument.  Considering his friend’s love of the lower register, Mozart wrote the music specifically for that instrument to show off its technical and musical range.  The composer died not long after the piece’s premiere, and the original score was lost.  Modern publications have since been edited to accommodate clarinets without Stadler’s lower extension.

There are a few different ways in which the Adagio movement of this concerto could be studied in this class.  We can choose from a variety of commentary made on this work over the years and use the observations of other musicians as a base for discussions.  Some of the potential topics fit into discussions which are already included in the class whereas others take on a slightly different angle. 

In week 11 of this course, we had a discussion titled “What is it about?”.  During this conversation, we debated whether music is about anything.  If so, who dictates the story?  Can it be about more than one thing?  This was one of the more active discussions.  It seemed to get all the students reflecting upon the point of music, which is something that we, as musicians, should take time to do occasionally.  The second movement of this concerto is a perfect fit for this discussion.

Because he was nearing the end of his life while composing it, there is a great deal of speculation that Mozart wrote the Adagio movement as an emotional response to death and a dramatic farewell to music.  Can we prove that this is true?  Could this work be about something else?  Does the meaning change for each performer and listener?  All these questions would provide students with an opportunity to engage in an important, interesting debate which also takes place outside the classroom in professional music settings. 

Discussing the meaning of music is accompanied by our topic for week 10, in which we talked about what Quantz referred to as “those who know” and “those who love it”.  Mozart’s Adagio movement is widely known and admired for its pure beauty.  Many who hear it do not think beyond the lovely melody, but musicians who study it for performance or analysis focus on all the details.  Because this is such a famous work, it could be used as an example of a piece commonly viewed differently by “those who know” and “those who love it”.

Another common theme in criticism of this movement is that it is casually considered the “easy” movement, or the easiest for amateur clarinetists.  Having played the clarinet most of my life and learned this movement in detail, I disagree with this claim.  I have learned the first and second movements in full, and only touched on the third.  Comparing the first two, then, I find that the second is far more challenging to play well.

The first eight measures introduce the main theme of the movement (see Figure 1).  It looks simple enough, but these few bars were what I spent much of my time working on when learning to play this piece.

While there is flexibility in the tempo, it is adagio, and I learned it at the written marking of 54 bpm.  Because of the slow tempo and simple notes and rhythms, it is incredibly hard to play this phrase well.  It cannot be rushed but must keep some sense of time; yet it can also be played with the sensation that it is beyond time.  Other musical aspects such as dynamics and articulation also need to be considered to play this line effectively. 

Two other recurring themes are particularly difficult to accomplish well in this work.  Mozart includes sextuplets throughout the movement which are tempting to play too quickly, even though they are still within the guideline of the slow tempo (see Figure 2). 

Every musician has been told that intimidating rhythms such as sextuplets are not inherently fast.  Mozart uses more complicated rhythms in a very slow piece, which goes against our inclination that they ought to be played quickly, making the music that much harder to play well.  Sometimes it is easier to play more technical music at a fast tempo rather than slow, when the audience is more likely to notice mistakes.

Lastly, Mozart utilizes a trill to end a couple phrases in the music (see Figure 3).  While an epic trill at the end of a passage is common in concertos, the trill in this movement provides further grounds for discussing musical complexity in this class.  When learning this piece, I was given two different bits of advice on playing the recurring trill.  One was that I take my time with it, stretching the tempo slightly, almost as if I decided when the first beat of the next measure would begin instead of following to the metronome.  Another suggestion recommended that I play the trill however I wanted to during the three beats that it lasted, but then end right on the downbeat with no additional time or ritardando. 

These specific details combined with the claim that this movement is, overall, the easiest of the three creates the possibility for a new discussion with which any musician can relate.

One approach would be to consider these details and talk about them in the scope of performance techniques, both in this work and others.  For this concerto specifically, there are academic resources which have studied this very topic (see works cited).  Another approach involves the question of whether the second movement of this concerto is underrated as a difficult piece.  Why do experts say that it is easier than the others?  Is there an overall standard for what is “hard” and “easy” to perform in a piece of music?  Perhaps it depends on the strengths of individual musicians.  One might excel at finger technique but runs out of breath too quickly, while another may have phenomenal breath control but struggles with fast motions in the hands.  How can we speak more accurately about music being “hard” or “easy” to play?  Both options for discussions would be beneficial to students, especially because they would enable them to bring their own experiences with performance and music of varying levels of complexity to the conversation.  It may even help increase participation in the discussion, as connecting what we learn in the classroom to our own lives and experiences is an important part of our education.

Mozart’s Adagio movement of his Clarinet Concerto provides a base for examining many aspects of music history.  It could fit in perfectly with our discussion of what music is about as well as spark a new conversation about performance technique or the unwritten standard for difficult music.  All these options include an aspect of inviting students to share their own experiences with which to connect to the topics.  There are several possibilities for incorporating this movement in course material, and I would argue that any (or all) of them would be beneficial to students who take this class in the future.