Music and Philosophy Aims and Assumptions Musicians interested in becoming acquainted with philosophical reflections on their field

encounter a vast, complex, and contradictory body of liter ature whose language is challenging, frequently arcane, and sometimes seem ingly impenetrable. To the practice-oriented musician in particular, the issues music philosophers choose to explore can often seem remote and abstract, of little immediate relevance or consequence. Add to this the fact that philoso phers' claims on music's behalf can seem bewildering and bizarre, and it is not entirely surprising that to many musicians philosophical inquiry remains a re mote and mysterious undertaking. But that is quite unfortunate. For as myste rious as philosophy may be to the musician, so has music long been to the philosopher. We stand to learn a lot from each other. For thousands of years philosophers have puzzled over this uniquely human preoccupation called mu sic, and what they have had to say is in many ways crucial to an informed ap preciation of music's significance and value. Philosophy's importance to the mu sician is not limited, however, to abstract, theoretical issues: indeed, as we shall see, the practical implications of what may at first seem largely theoretical can be surprisingly direct and far-reaching. This book offers to help demystify this puzzling world of music philosophy, to provide the serious student of music a basic understanding of what the fuss is about, where the important issues lie, and where, to employ a very strained metaphor, some of the mines are buried. It seeks to provide an orientation to the field, a fuller understanding of its scope and potential relevance to the con cerns of contemporary musicians. The basic strategy is a simple one. We will explore from a number of different perspectives two fundamental, yet remark ably challenging, questions about music -- questions that have fascinated and perplexed philosophers since earliest recorded history. Just what is music? And what is its significance or importance? Or more concisely yet, What is the nature and value of music? These seemingly simple questions have generated, and indeed continue to gen erate, an astonishing array of responses. But amidst the striking diversity there do exist discernible patterns, convergences of perspective, recurrent disputes and problems. Exploring some of these in detail will help us develop the kind of fa miliarity with landmarks necessary for further navigation of the field, an incli nation to which it is hoped this book may also contribute. The book is written for the musician or the curious nonmusician without an extensive background in philosophy or musical aesthetics. It endeavors to ex amine a broad range of music philosophical terrain, showing the philosopher's reasons for holding beliefs that can strike nonphilosophers as little short of pre posterous. As we begin to understand the bases for these seemingly strange ideas, the reader would do well to anticipate some conceptual discomfort, as com forting commonsense truths are subjected to scrutiny and stress they seldom en counter in casual conversation. Philosophy has a way of undermining the obvi ous, defamiliarizing the familiar, complicating the apparently simple. Likewise, the reader is forewarned that the study we are about to undertake will not culminate in definitive answers or neatly resolve all the issues it raises. It is my belief that questions like the ones explored here have no single, defin itive answer. Yet it is my further firm conviction that this by no means renders pointless the philosophical quest for answers. While none of the perspectives we

will explore here -- none of these attempts to describe music's nature and worth -is wholly adequate, neither is any of them devoid of insight. There are, in other words, a number of ways music may reasonably be construed to be, each with its valuable insights and its inevitable biases or blind spots. There is not one 'es sential' way all music 'is' or may be found to be. On this more will be said shortly. This book seeks to situate itself between brief and accessible introductions to music philosophy and erudite scholarly monographs written by and for pro fessional philosophers. Useful though the former are, their brevity and accessi bility inevitably deprive them of the richness and flavor that makes philosophy compelling. And crucial though the latter are, the newcomer to music philoso phy often finds them abstruse, obscure, and pedantic. Students of philosophy and aesthetic theory are well served by detailed, rigorous resources and by cur ricula designed to pursue primary resources in detail; but the substantial ma jority of North American music students engage in predominantly 'practical' pursuits, in curricula which offer little if any opportunity for reflection upon what they do, why they do it, or what its broader significance may be. I believe we are professionally the worse for that. 1 Music philosophy is not the study of dead voices from the past, but rather of intriguing ideas and issues with contin uing relevance and practical significance for musicians. As we explore various and divergent views of what counts as music, how it works, and what its value(s) may be, we will attempt to get sufficiently 'inside' those views to enable an ap preciation of their persuasiveness and, in a surprising number of instances, their enduring influence. Among the many preliminary points to be made here, one is absolutely cru cial: this book is conceived as an introduction to, not a substitute for, the pri mary sources from which it is drawn. When finished with it (or better still, along side it) I earnestly hope readers will use my analyses, comments, and references to orient firsthand examination of at least some of the original texts upon which I have drawn here. I urge readers not just to "take my word for it" but to ex amine the original texts and reach their own conclusions. Those who do so will be rewarded richly with depth of detail and delightful quirkiness of style at which my accounts can only hint. It has been necessary here to gloss over and some times omit important points. Ideas have been filtered through my own inter pretive frameworks, and rearticulated in words I hope readers may more readily grasp. The dangers of oversimplifying and distorting rich, complex ideas in a project like this are ones to which I am quite sensitive. I am also acutely aware that I have not been entirely able to avoid those dangers. Yet I have persisted, believing that the potential for distortion is outweighed by an even more unde sirable alternative: the continued neglect of music philosophy within postsec ondary music study, a failure to capitalize on an extraordinarily valuable intel lectual resource. Where I have fallen short of my goal of making complex ideas accessible, it is not for lack of effort. Philosophy often yields to paraphrase as gracefully as poetry -- which is to say, of course, that it does not-and quite often, complex ideas simply cannot be coaxed or coerced into simpler language. Philosophers often choose their words with the utmost precision, and tinkering with carefully chosen words always alters meanings. Where my words mislead, or where they gloss over important issues, I trust my colleagues to clarify, elaborate, supple ment, or challenge them. The benefits to be accrued from this endeavor hardly require that we be in full accord on all issues. This is not a book about aesthetic theory or philosophy of art, but specifi cally and explicitly philosophy of music. That is, it seeks to bring together in one place a wide range of ideas that shed light on the nature and value of mu sic in particular. There is no shortage of books that undertake consideration of

music as one among 'the arts', emphasizing the continuities and similarities that have preoccupied 'aesthetic' inquiry since its inception in the eighteenth cen tury. But attention to supposed commonality exacts an unacceptable cost to con sideration of what is unique and distinctive about music and musical experi ence, conveying the assumption, however implicitly, that the distinctively musical is only incidental -- of less importance than what music shares with pu tatively related endeavors. I believe that appreciation of the uniquely and dis tinctly musical is of crucial significance to music students, and that addressing such concerns is among music philosophy's most fundamental obligations. Even so delimited, though, music philosophy remains a vast terrain that can be charted many ways. The way I have chosen is in certain respects arbitrary. I have deliberately excluded the ideas of philosophers, composers, and musicians some will regard as essential to an introduction to the field. But this is not an exhaustive survey, it is an introduction intended to give students a sufficiently detailed acquaintance with the great and lasting issues in music philosophy that they may begin to see its relevance to their own musical beliefs, values, and un dertakings. Cogency has thus been a higher priority than comprehensiveness; and where my omissions are deemed unacceptable, I am fully confident that colleagues will see to their rectification. 2 Readers who look to this book for conclusive answers will probably experi ence frustration at my disinclination to provide them. But my determination to proceed as I have is deliberate and strategic: for while philosophy is rightly con ceived as a quest for truth, its very nature is such that no one achieves it com pletely. Many people get a piece of it; nobody has it all. And that, as it turns out, is at least partly because musical practices are not the kind of affairs for which there is an 'all'. The whole of music is as ephemeral an idea as is the whole of truth, and we must learn to be content with insights that are provi sional and temporary instead of absolute and timeless. Though partial and con tingent, such insights are of inestimable help in providing direction along the path of continuing inquiry. Put differently, none of the thinkers whose ideas we will examine here gets things wholly right; but that is an unrealistic expectation of philosophy. More important is a willingness to entertain the possibility that none gets things wholly wrong. It is my hope, then, that as readers explore each of the perspectives examined here they may find themselves sympathetically in clined toward certain features at the same time they are skeptical of others. In my view, that attitude is more characteristic of the spirit of philosophical inquiry than identifying winners and losers. Given musicians' notorious penchant for the 'practical', I anticipate that many readers will wish I had devoted more time to exploration of the many con crete, practical issues of relevance to music's various professional disciplines. Since philosophical inquiry's pragmatic utility is indeed among the most im portant reasons for engaging in it, such concerns are entirely valid. One's philo sophical convictions can manifest startling 'practical' implications, and it would be gratifying to explore all these at length. But the cost of fuller attention to prac tical and professional issues would be a drastic reduction in the range and depth of philosophical coverage. And since in all likelihood different musicians will find the issues explored here significant in different ways, I have resisted the temptation to direct the book to the specific concerns of any single musical dis cipline. I must therefore ask my readers and their teachers to keep foremost in their minds these critically important pragmatic questions: If this idea, this claim, this way of looking at music were valid, what might it imply for the kind of music-related practices in which I engage? What differ ence might it make for me, for how I conceive of and execute my various mu sical undertakings?

Although the matters they encompass are far too diverse to be adequately ad dressed here, answers to questions like these represent the single most impor tant outcome of this project. Further, an appeal to patience. Since philosophical ideas sometimes reveal their sense slowly and in response to considerable effort, it will be prudent in the pages ahead to attempt to suspend the impatience toward abstraction for which musicians are often notorious. Instant gratification and quick fixes are not conspicuous characteristics of philosophy. But without the kind of theoretical deliberation and heightened awareness philosophy seeks to engender, practice can be aimless and blind. And unless we become more fully informed and ar ticulate, decisions affecting music will be made by the less informed, guided more by economic and political agendas than by musical and rational ones.

Characteristic Concerns of Philosophical Discourse Although most of us have a general notion of what philosophy is about, such notions often diverge significantly from what those seriously engaged in philos ophy understand it to be: a situation known all too well by musicians in rela tion to their own field. Among these mistaken assumptions, perhaps the most pervasive is the idea that philosophy amounts to the expression of arbitrarily held opinion, personal views rooted in nothing more substantial than sentiment. On this view, philosophy reduces to rhetoric, a practice devoted to argumentation and persuasion. The stereotype of philosophy as personal opinion buttressed by rhetorical skills may contain a grain of truth, but little more. For as a practice -as opposed to a body of doctrine or ideology -- philosophy is more properly re garded as the systematic and critical examination of the grounds for belief. It characteristically aspires to something quite a bit more ambitious than the rhetor ical and political, and presumes to be based on something considerably more substantial than mere assertion. 3 Derived from the Greek philosophia, or 'love of wisdom', philosophical inquiry is driven by a passion for things like insight, understanding, and truth. Philosophy is thus founded in the human need to make sense of the world and our place in it. What distinguishes it from mere personal opinion and credulity is its rejection of passionate convictions as sufficient grounds for belief and action, and its commitment to careful analysis and systematic reasoning. In the words of H. B. Redfern, philosophy involves a "passion for clarity" and a dis dain for "devices which blur and confuse and seek to influence without invit ing critical reflection." 4 As I have written elsewhere, "Philosophy works to ren der the implicit explicit, with the ultimate intent of enriching both understanding and perception. Among its greatest allies is a persistent curiosity. Its enemies are the habitual, the stereotypical, the unexamined, the acritical, the 'common sense' assumption or assertion. The philosophical mind critically challenges and explores received doctrine, renounces the security and comfort of dogma, exposes inconsistencies, weighs and evaluates alternatives. It explores, probes, and questions, taking very little for granted." 5 Although just how much philosophy takes for granted is a contentious issue in some quarters, 6 these ideals and attitudes are certainly descriptive of the philosophical disposition as it has been conventionally understood. At the same time they help explain why, to the exasperation of those new to philosophy, it never quite succeeds in finding the ultimate, irrefutable, universally acknowledged truths traditionally presumed to be the measure of its worth. Simply put, subscription to a common set of doc trines ranks relatively low among the priorities of those engaged in philosophi cal inquiry. Rather than a uniform body of doctrine, philosophy manifests itself in an ongoing process of critically examining and refining the grounds for our beliefs and actions, the ideas we recognize as true, as deserving our loyalty and commitment. As well, the philosophical attitude is marked by a determination

to stand out from what Northrop Frye once called "the uniform bleating of the herd." 7 Such independence of mind seldom manifests itself in uncontested agreement. To those unaccustomed to thinking this way, philosophy can sometimes seem a nuisance. Philosophers are inveterate askers of questions, people who find intractable problems and issues in what to others seems obvious and utterly uncontroversial. It is not for no reason that the philosopher has been considered (to put it politely) a gadfly. So to approach the study of music philosophy with the expectation of finding a coolly dispassionate endeavor governed by strict laws of logic and marked by widespread agreement on fundamental issues is to seri ously misunderstand its nature and underestimate its difficulty. Philosophy is no mere marshaling of views, no purveyor of irrefutable, absolute truths. It is, rather, a messy and disquieting process in which cherished beliefs and comfortable as sumptions are subjected to critical scrutiny. Although music philosophy is sometimes equated with musical aesthetics, the two are not the same: philosophy of music is broader than musical aesthet ics, and subsumes it. The study of musical aesthetics takes its lead from general aesthetic theory, the field of discourse that arose in the eighteenth century in an effort to describe presumed commonalties among the arts and, more broadly, instances of beauty. Accordingly, while musical aesthetics is sometimes regarded as the effort to describe what is distinctive about music and musical experience, it has frequently based its claims on a rather restricted range of evidence -- those musical practices recently regarded in the Western world as 'art'. Unfortunately, situating music within a class of endeavors called 'the arts' begs the questions of what music is, what purposes it serves, and what its values are: for to call it an 'art' almost invariably removes from consideration an extensive range of musi cal practices not regarded as 'artistic' -- practices and pieces that do not evince 'aesthetic value' in high degree. That is to say, musical aesthetics often tends to confer global validity upon characteristics that are in fact local, specific to a rel atively narrow range of musics. As Francis Sparshott puts it, aesthetic accounts of music attribute universality to what is in fact a normative theory of taste, one which emphasizes orderliness and trained perception over other modes of mu sical engagement. They assume that music's inherent value lies in its capacity to sustain appreciative, contemplative experience in "a privileged group of con sumers, not themselves musicians . . ." 8 Moreover, the evolution of musical aes thetics has been intimately entangled with the idea of musical value's intrinsi cality', a concept that erects rather rigid and impermeable boundaries between the range of the properly musical and an (often vast) 'extramusical' residue. Each of these tendencies restricts the range of musical experiences and practices deemed relevant to questions of music's nature and value -- with results that se riously compromise our understanding of the phenomena at hand. As I see it, then, music philosophy addresses considerably broader ranges of concern, and philosophical contexts considerably more inclusive, than those his torically envisioned by musical aesthetics. Since aesthetic orientations, like the musics that arose and evolved in tandem with them, are historically factual, mu sic philosophy is obliged to recognize them. It need not, however, accept their claims to ultimacy, or their assumptions of music's 'autonomy' and 'intrinsical ity', or of listening's status as the quintessentially musical mode of engagement. Indeed, it often does not. Music philosophy explores areas musical aesthetics of ten regards as musically incidental: matters epistemological, ethical, social, cul tural, and political. Music philosophy should not be regarded as a hermetic discipline, restricted in its rightful purview to theoretical exploration of abstract propositions about 'music proper'. Its interests overlap with and extend deeply into quite a number of related intellectual disciplines. The most immediately apparent of these is

music criticism. The relationship between music philosophy and music criti cism is sometimes described as one between theory and practice, philosophy ad dressing music more comprehensively and abstractly while criticism concerns itself with the merits of specific musical works and endeavors. Criticism, in this view, is a kind of applied philosophy -- general beliefs brought to bear on par ticular and concrete musical undertakings. While the distinction between phi losophy and criticism is helpful, it is not a good idea to draw too sharp a dis tinction between the two: for they work dialectically with each other, they inform one another in important ways, and their basic orientations are in many respects quite similar. As I have suggested elsewhere, "philosophy is to belief as criticism is to music." 9 Both seek to explore beliefs, undo habitual stereotypes and prej udices, enhance imagination, and reveal previously hidden aspects of the given. The good critic, wrote T. S. Eliot, is one "who can make me look at something I have never looked at before, or looked at only with eyes clouded with preju dice." 10 The same is true of philosophers, although their focus is more often conceptual than perceptual. Both philosophy and criticism seek to educate sen sibilities and enhance critical awareness, endeavors that, it should be noted, ul timately reduce esteem for the pedestrian and the commonplace. Criticism usually draws liberally on philosophical convictions, while phi losophy can and frequently does seek to examine specific musical practices. For those to whom 'philosophy' connotes unbridled abstraction and speculation, the 'groundedness' of criticism in perception is understandably attractive. Yet it is hardly possible to engage in criticism without employing, at least implicitly, be liefs as to what constitutes good or proper musical practice: beliefs whose for mulation and examination are explicitly philosophical undertakings. Although the scope of music criticism is generally more concretely and specifically mu sical than philosophy, it is not invariably so, and never purely so. Nor -- and here I admittedly part company with many -- need philosophy operate necessarily and invariably on the level of generalities. The relation between philosophy and crit icism is not one of diametrical opposition, nor is there a fixed, stable boundary between the two. In fact, where the idea of a mutually exclusive relationship be tween music 'itself' and its sociocultural 'context' is denied, the differences be tween criticism and philosophy become rather ephemeral. It may be well to acknowledge a few other disciplinary convergences and affinities in passing. Music psychology, for instance, departs rather decisively from music philosophy in its markedly empirical proclivities, and is thus typi cally preoccupied with the mechanisms behind musical perception, preference, response, and the like. Yet it shares philosophy's keen interest in judgments of musical value, the distinctively affective character of musical experience, and the like. Thus, psychology's investigations often build implicitly or explicitly on ideas rightly regarded as philosophical. Social psychology casts its net more widely, seeking to examine how social influences shape musical judgments, meanings, and responses. Again, music philosophy shares those concerns. The convergence between psychological interests and philosophy will be most evi dent here in phenomenology's exploration of music's lived, experiential basis, and in Meyer's and Langer's struggles to illuminate the relation of feeling to musical experience. Music philosophy also has significant affinities with sociology and social theory, as will become apparent in the later chapters of this book. Music's in extricable cultural situatedness, its deep involvement in shaping and maintain ing human social orders, and the profound extent to which its meanings are so cially mediated and constructed are each pivotal concerns for contemporary music philosophers, many of whom increasingly regard the distinction between the musical and the social as a serious mistake. Still other disciplines -- music theory and the nascent field of music cogni

tion for instance -- have roots that extend deeply into the realm of music phi losophy, even if those roots are not always explicitly acknowledged or fully ap preciated. And others still -- music education, for instance -- are profoundly reliant upon music philosophy for fundamental direction: without an adequate prior grasp of music philosophy, the fabrication of an applied professional phi losophy is bound to be a highly precarious undertaking. The point is not that all these various disciplines are merely derivative, or that their distinctive character is illusory; far from it. The broader point is sim ply that music philosophy must not be regarded as an insular, esoteric realm whose interests and endeavors have little significance or relevance beyond the confines of philosophy in and of itself. As an endeavor which commits itself to uncovering and scrutinizing beliefs about music's nature and value, its poten tial sphere of influence and relevance extends wherever human beliefs manifest themselves in musical practices. It offers to help us reexamine, clarify, and re construct musical beliefs, and in turn the many practices with which they are intimately entwined. As such, it is a grievous mistake to conceive of it as an ob scurely marginal practice, with little immediate importance for the making, ex perience, or teaching of music. This points to another important reason for music philosophy's divergence and diversity: since its roots interlace so extensively with those of other domains, it is hardly surprising that the ways of conducting philosophical inquiry and the kind of 'products' they generate vary considerably. Both the way questions are posed and the kind of answers deemed relevant often differ substantially. And yet, at least on a general level, the questions that concern music philosophy tend to align themselves in relatively clear patterns and configurations. Just what sort of thing is music? What purpose(s) does music serve? How may judgments of musical worth be grounded or substantiated? How is it that such a universal and distinctive presence in human culture and experience seems so resistant to ex planation, so perpetually in need of justification? How does music relate to and differ from things like noise, speech, language -- that is, nonmusical sonorous experience? How do musical experiences differ from merely sensuous experi ence? What human needs and interests can music be shown to serve? How do musical practices relate to and differ from other areas of human endeavor, in cluding those characteristic of the other 'arts' and nonmusical experiences? In what senses can music be said to 'mean' something? In what sense might mu sic be considered a kind of knowing, a manifestation of human intelligence? What has music to do with feeling or emotion? Does music have the power to shape people's character, to make them better or worse? Or is it, rather, a mere amusement, a diversion? These are but a few of the many provocative and daunting questions to which music philosophy directs our attention. Yet, among them are two that subsume most of the others and that will serve to orient us in the explorations undertaken in the ensuing chapters of this book. They are of course the ques tions introduced above: What is music? What is its value?

The Value of Music Philosophy to the Musician To repeat, comforting though it would be if music philosophy were able to pro vide us with ultimate answers to questions like these, that is an unrealistic ex pectation. Music assumes too many forms, serves too many diverse functions, and is too deeply embedded in the dynamic flux and mutation of sociocultural life to be exhaustively explained by theoretical undertakings that are not simi larly dynamic, diverse, and fluid. Simply and directly put, philosophy is simply not that kind of creature. 11 But that hardly means music philosophy is wholly useless; fortunately, its value to the musician does not rest on its capacity to arm

us with the kind of definitive answers that obtain for all musics, everywhere, for all time. It is sometimes claimed that among philosophy's benefits is its capacity to inspire, to instill in people a sense of purpose and direction. People who have a clear understanding of what they do and its value, it is maintained, function more effectively; and people whose understanding of music is based on system atic exploration and analysis -- as opposed to platitudes, aphorisms, and slogans, for instance -- are better equipped to demonstrate and explain the true signifi cance of their undertakings to others. These are not insignificant considerations in a time when music seems so widely regarded as an insubstantial indulgence, an entertaining diversion. Yet, while music philosophy is indeed capable of shap ing, expanding, and strengthening minds, it can "blow" them as well. 12 It may indeed affirm and inspire, but its capacity to reveal the inadequacy of reassur ing convictions and beliefs can also confuse and disturb. There are those, in fact, who would maintain that philosophical inquiry which fails to disturb and disrupt has not truly done its job. In other words, it probably misrepresents philo sophical inquiry to suggest that its primary value lies in some unconditional ca pacity to strengthen and inspire. For among the things it reveals are sometimes matters we might prefer not to have confronted. If music philosophy does not deliver final answers, if it does not automatically and invariably deliver inspiration, if it can bolster confidence and security but un dermine them as well, then what good is it? That ultimate, inspiring truths are not what music philosophy is about, that it is as interested in questions as it is in answers, that it is more characterized by persistent curiosity than by once-and-for all explanations: all these mean that philosophy's value to the musician must be conceived more broadly. Its practical value lies not in its revelation of the hidden truth about music's innermost essence but rather in its power to expose unexam ined assumptions, to enrich one's understanding of music's many roles in human experience, thereby making one's various musical doings better informed and more fully subject to conscious direction. Subjecting habits and assumptions to critical, systematic examination leads to practice that is better 'theorized', more fully guided by explicit consideration of beliefs about what music is and what it should be. The decisions and actions that shape musical practices often are undertaken without such scrutiny. But such practices are likely to be haphazard and considerably less effective than we might hope. Even more to the point, they may inadvertently serve ends quite different from those we envisage. One's choice, in other words, is not so much between doing and reflecting as it is between practice that un thinkingly replicates an unexamined status quo and practice guided by critical awareness of carefully considered ends. The choice, to put it another way, is be tween skillful technical execution and wholly mindful agency. Whether one is more immediately concerned with the making and doing of music, with the study of its inner workings, with teaching others about it, or with helping people develop the requisite skills for particular musical practices, music philosophy seeks to refine critically the system of beliefs and values that guide professional choices and decisions. To invent a philosophy 'from scratch' or build it piecemeal without the benefit of previous inquiry into foundational questions about music's nature and value would be inefficient and irresponsi ble. In the first place, familiarity with a range of philosophical or theoretical alternatives -- their strengths and shortcomings, and the ways they may have in fluenced current beliefs and practices -- is a crucial part of the distinction be tween being educated and merely being trained. And in the second place, a shared understanding of foundational beliefs and values is vital to any claim to truly professional status. To neglect music philosophy -- to leave philosophical dispositions and understandings to unguided, casual development -- is a mistake with implications that are far-reaching and serious.

It might seem that this need for philosophical grounding could be ade quately met by simply subscribing to an explanation crafted for us by authori ties in the field, without going through the messy business of exploring and weighing alternatives ourselves. Unfortunately, such shortcuts short-circuit the philosophical process and fail to nurture the habits of mind that are among philo sophical inquiry's greatest potential benefits. And the idea of building a profes sional philosophy on a single point of view without critically examining other alternatives imputes both to music and to philosophy a static, unchanging char acter quite at odds with the character of either. Worse yet, it risks replacing phi losophy with ideology and dogma: a significant concern, one would think, in a field where the dominant mode of training is imitative apprenticeship. In short, basic acquaintance with the ways music shapes and is shaped by culture -- what it is, and what its values may be -- is fundamentally important to becoming musically educated. Extensive training in specialized skills is neces sary, but not sufficient: to be educated is to be more broadly prepared. Music philosophy's role in that preparation lies in its assurance that we do what we do in light of foreseen consequences, in light of ends we envision as fully and ac curately as possible. Yet, as my disinclination to equate philosophy with advocacy and inspira tion, or true education with training, may suggest, even this claim sounds more clear-cut than it probably is. For the nature of philosophical inquiry is such that we can never know precisely where it may lead: it is that kind of creature. Per haps another analogy will help clarify the point: advocacy is to philosophy as training is to education. Advocacy and inspiration, like training, assume clearly defined ends, ends by which the adequacy of the means can be clearly gauged. On the other hand, where endeavors like philosophy and education will lead can never be fully determinate. One commits to a process in which one has faith. Beyond that one takes one's chances.

Music from Divergent Perspectives One of the perennial dangers in exploring ideas is their tendency to harden into dogma, a tendency which converts intriguing possibilities into seemingly defin itive absolutes. In this process, dynamic conceptual confluences and divergences somehow ossify into bewildering arrays of mutually exclusive 'isms' that seem to vie with one another for people's total allegiance. As suggested earlier, though, philosophers -- despite undeniable affinities -- are usually resolute individualists. Grouping their ideas into philosophical 'schools' of thought, while a useful ori enting strategy, often distorts as much as it illuminates. Stressing differences and contrasts can lead to the neglect of subtle but important connections and rela tions; stressing similarities can obscure the uniqueness and particularity of in dividual voices. Since divergent perspectives serve as an organizational strategy in the pages ahead, it is important we candidly acknowledge and recognize the distortive potential of that strategy. The perspectives explored here are heuristic devices, idealizations. Few of those whose ideas we will explore are perfect matches to the perspectives with which I associate them, and some might be characterized quite differently simply by stressing other affinities and tenden cies. Still, identifiable landmarks are essential when finding one's way in new territory, and highlighting certain patterns and trends is a useful organizational modus operandi so long as we remember why we are doing it and resist taking them too literally. Despite the profound differences that exist among philoso phies of music, remarkable strains of continuity also exist. It is fascinating, in fact, to see how many of the roots of contemporary ideas extend back hundreds -sometimes thousands -- of years. Indeed, ancient Greek writings on music raised in their basic form many of the issues that have occupied music philosophy ever

since. Music's capacity to influence character, its special relation to human feel ing, the nature of its contribution to human knowledge, the philosophical prob lems posed by its peculiar transience, its seemingly unique situation between the physical and spiritual worlds: these are but a few of the issues with which contemporary philosophy continues to wrestle that can be traced back to the time of Plato, and even earlier. Another cluster of recurrent themes in music philosophy concerns music's distinctive abstractness (especially that of instrumental music), a quality that has led many philosophers to characterize it as insubstantial and illusory. Others, however, find in that same quality a unique capacity to reveal reality's inner most secrets, especially because of its special relationship with the realms of feel ing or spirituality. Then, against the excesses of these expressivist theories, there arise equally ardent formalist theories, determined to link music's significance strictly to its sonorous patterns, patterns whose perception has by some been at tributed to a wholly unique musical faculty of mind. Against the insularity of formalism's emphasis upon music's autonomy, still other philosophers -- partic ularly in the twentieth century -- mount cogent, sophisticated accounts of mu sic as a potent social, psychological, and political force. Changing fashions in music philosophy do not mean it is aimless, point less, or outdated, however. In fact, given the radical changes in musical prac tices over thousands of years, it is remarkable philosophy has remained as stable and consistent as it has. It would also be quite misguided to assume that music philosophy is narrowly concerned with musical endeavor, for debates over mu sic's meaning and value implicate many of philosophy's most durable, intractable problems: mind and body, reason and sensation, unity and plurality, uniformity and diversity, form and feeling, subjectivity and objectivity, freedom and con straint, tradition and innovation, and truth and illusion, to mention but a few. In short, the existence of philosophical differences hardly means music philos ophy is arbitrary or irrelevant. To be sure, it is not a linear, progressive process, inexorably advancing toward some ultimate, irrefutable truth. The temptation to dismiss past philosophy as outdated is one that should be strenuously resisted: indeed, as will become apparent in the pages ahead, what past philosophers have had to say about music can often be remarkably cogent and illuminating. Per haps the best way to make sense of all this is simply to acknowledge that how ever much things like music and philosophy change, they remain human en deavors. And since on some level, human needs, interests, and tendencies remain relatively constant even across the millennia, to dismiss categorically the rele vance of the musical or philosophical past would be quite precipitous. The second chapter of this book introduces the music philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, tracing their influence with sufficient detail to establish that their