Music Speech and Mind - Chapter 8

MUSIC, SPEECH, AND MIND
Music and Cognition Series
Music, Speech, and Mind (2019)

Edited by Antenor Ferreira Corrêa
Composition, Cognition, and Pedagogy (2020)
Edited by Marcos Nogueira and Guilherme Bertissolo
(In press)
MUSIC, SPEECH, AND MIND
First Publishing
MUSIC AND COGNITION SERIES 1
Edited by
ANTENOR FERREIRA CORRÊA
Curitiba, Brazil
²⁰¹⁹
This book is a publication of
Brazilian Association of Cognition and Musical Arts -
ABCM
www.abcogmus.org
© 2019 by ABCM
All rights reserved
Graphic Design: Marcos Nogueira

Cover: César González Martín
Revision: Antenor Ferreira Corrêa; Barbara Bomfim
Layout and Publishing: Marcos Nogueira
International Cataloging Data
Music, Speech, and Mind / edited by Antenor

Ferreira Corrêa; foreword by Aniruddh D. Patel.
(Music and Cognition Series I) — Curitiba: Brazilian
Association of Cognition and Musical Arts - ABCM,
2019.
Book published in partnership with Editorial de
la Universidad de Granada, Campus Universitario de
Cartuja. Granada, España. Maria Isabel Cabrera García
- Directora. www.editorial.ugr.es
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN: 978-65-81031-00-8
1. Music–Psychological aspects. 2. Music
cognition. I. Corrêa, antenor. II. Series.
CDD 781.1
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Preface
The early 21st century has seen a remarkable rise in cognitive research on
music. A robust research community has emerged that spans many countries,
linking scholars across national and disciplinary boundaries in the study of
the musical mind. It has become clear that music is an enormously rich
subject for research in cognition, psychology, neuroscience, philosophy of
mind, linguistics, education, medicine, and other fields concerned with how
the mind works. For example, cognitive and neural relations between
music and language have proven to be a fertile area for exploration, with
implications for basic cognitive science and for the therapeutic use of music
for individuals with language disorders (see for example my book Music,
Language, and the Brain [2008, Oxford Univ. Press] and the special issues on
music and language in Frontiers in Psychology in 2012 and 2016).
The study of music and the mind requires research in multiple
disciplines and from scholars with diverse backgrounds. To attract young
researchers to this topic and to energize existing researchers, it is
important to bring different perspectives together rather than to only
publish papers in specialized journals. This is why the current volume
plays an important role in the field. Music, Speech, and Mind is also of
historical significance as the first book to be published by the Brazilian
Society for Music Cognition. Hopefully the coming years will see the
growth and flourishing of this and other nearby music cognition societies
(such as in those already existing in Argentina and Colombia), as well as
the founding of new music cognition societies in the vast and musically
rich continent of South America.
Music, Speech, and Mind brings together an impressive range of
scholarship on music cognition. Current topics in the field (such as emotion,
embodied cognition, and the links between music therapy and music
neuroscience) are well represented. There are also fascinating chapters on
less-explored topics, including a detailed and culturally-informed cognitive
analysis of the emotional experience of a specific genre of music (Fado), an
application of psychological research methods to the important issue of
rebuilding audiences for classical music, and a framework for studying how
parents use music in the raising of their children. These chapters suggest
new lines of research which merit further investigation. Philosophy and
physiology are also represented in this volume in chapters on the semiotics
of non-vocal music and on the musical properties of the human larynx.
The English philosopher Herbert Spencer once remarked that
music is the art which “more than any other, ministers to human welfare.”
The study of music and the mind can help us understand how and why
music has such power in human life, and how we can best harness that
power to improve the lives of people everywhere, now and in the future.
Aniruddh D. Patel
November 11, 2018
vi
Contents
List of contributors, 9
Introduction, 11
Antenor Ferreira Corrêa
1 Emotional reactions to music:
Mechanisms and modularity, 17
Patrik N. Juslin & Simon Liljeström
2 The feeling of music:
Affect, attunement, and resonance, 53
Ulrik Volgsten
3 Musical empathy, from simulation to 4E interaction, 73
Dylan van der Schyff & Joel Krueger
4 Understanding nostalgia and sadness in fado music:
A qualitative approach to the psychological
mechanisms underlying musical emotions, 111
Gonçalo Barradas
5 Music, language and languaging, 143
Fred Cummins
6 On the semiotic and communicative status

of non-vocal music, 159
Jens Allwood
7 Towards a musical larynx:

Preliminary proposal, 173
Beatriz Raposo de Medeiros
8 Classical musicians borrowing from other arts:
New estrategies for audience building through
performance, 189
John Sloboda & Biranda Ford
9 Exploring bridges between music therapy

and neurosciences:
Collaborations on clinical applications, 215
Camila F. Pfeiffer & Cristina Zamani
10 Music therapy and music technology:

Applying and professionalizing the use
of music technology into clinical settings
and music therapy education, 229
C. Werger, M. Groothuis & A. C. Jaschke
11 Ecological perspectives on musical parenting:

A proposed framework, 247
Beatriz Ilari
Author index, 263
Subject index, 275
viii
Contributors
Aniruddh D. Patel, Professor of Psychology at Tufts

University, Massachusetts, USA.
Antenor Ferreira Corrêa, Associate Professor at University of

Brasília, BRAZIL.
Artur C. Jaschke, Professor (Lector) Music-Based Therapies

and Interventions and Cognitive Neuroscience of Music,
ArtEZ & University Medical Centre Groningen, THE
NETHERLANDS.
Beatriz Ilari, Associate Professor of Music Education at the

University of Southern California, USA.
Beatriz Raposo de Medeiros, Associate Professor at

University of São Paulo, BRAZIL.
Biranda Ford, Guildhall School of Music & Drama, London,

UK.
Camila F. Pfeiffer, Head of Master of Music Therapy- ArtEZ

University of the Arts, THE NETHERLANDS.
Carola Werger, Head of the ArtEZ Music Therapy

Department and Senior Lecturer and at ArtEZ University of
the Arts, THE NETHERLANDS.
Cristina Zamani, Board Certified Music Therapist, Clinical

music therapist. Board member of ASAM, Asociación
Argentina de Musicoterapia, ARGENTINA.
Dylan van der Schyff, Senior Lecturer, Melbourne
Conservatorium of Music, University of Melbourne,
AUSTRALIA.
Fred Cummins, Associate Professor at School of Computer

Science and Informatics University College Dublin,
IRELAND.
Gonçalo T. Barradas, Researcher at Department of

Psychology, Uppsala University, SWEDEN.
Jens Allwood, Full Professor at University of Gothenburg,

Director of the Interdisciplinary Center SCCIIL, University of
Gothenburg, Director of Marston Hill Intercultural Center for
Quality of Life, Mullsjö, SWEDEN.
Joel Krueger, Senior Lecturer, Department of Sociology,

Philosophy, and Anthropology, University of Exeter, UK.
John Sloboda, Guildhall School of Music & Drama, London,

UK.
Marĳke Groothuis, Senior Lecturer ArtEZ-Music Therapy

Department, THE NETHERLANDS.
Patrik N. Juslin, Professor at Department of Psychology,

Uppsala University, SWEDEN.
Simon Liljeström, Centre for Clinical Research, Västmanlands

Sjukhus, Västerås, SWEDEN.
Ulrik Volgsten, Professor at School of Music, Theatre and Art,

Örebro University, SWEDEN.
x
8
Classical Musicians Borrowing
from Other Arts:
New Strategies for Audience
Building through Performance¹
John Sloboda & Biranda Ford
We aim to address six questions:

1) Why do classical musicians need to build audiences?
2) What do audiences seek by engaging with a live event?
3) How are classical music events different from other arts events?
4) How can more of what audiences seek be added to live events?
5) Why are classical musicians, and those who promote them, not
as focused on audiences as some may argue they might be?
6) How can conservatoire training be enriched to equip musicians
with more audience awareness?
1) Why do Classical Musicians need to Build Audiences?

Attendance at live classical music events has declined, both in absolute terms
and relative to other arts. Two survey sources of evidence, one from the
USA and one from the UK support this assertion. The US National
Endowment for the Arts undertakes periodic surveys of public participation
in the arts, and it has done this in 1982, 1992, 2002 and 2008. This provides
a unique picture of comparative trends. Table 1 below presents some
figures taken from the 2008 report. They show the percentage of US adults
reporting attending different arts events at least once in the twelve months
preceding the survey. We have added a final column on the right, which is
the percentage decline from 1982 to 2008. As you can see, attendance at
189
190 Music, Speech, and Mind
classical concerts, opera and ballet has declined by around 30% over the
period. There has also been a decline for drama attendance, but considerably
less, with musicals holding up particularly well. Attendance at museums and
galleries has not declined at all.
The NEA survey also looks at demographics. One of the most striking
contributors to this decline is the changing age profile of audiences. The
average classical audience is getting older. Sandow (2007) comments on
the NEA data as follows: ‘In 1992 the largest age group in the classical
music audience was 35-44. In 2002 the largest age group was 45-54. The
same people, in other words, who were the largest age group in 1992 have
now grown ten years older.’
Table 1
U.S. adults attending an activity at least once in past 12 months
Source: 1982, 1992, 2002 and 2008 Surveys of Public Participation in the Arts.
Percent of adults attending/visiting/reading
From National Endowment of the Arts, 2008 survey of public participation in the
Arts. http://www.arts.gov/research/2008-SPPA.pdf
This age profile is reproduced in the UK. Data from the Office for
National Statistics showed that while 16% of the 55-64 age group had
attended a classical concert, the figure for under 35s was around 5%. This
compares with 90% attendance from that same cohort for films and pop
concerts (Sigurjonsson, 2005). One of the most public consequences of
audience decline is the increasing diversification of art forms in flagship
classical venues. More and more frequently, non-classical events are held
Classical Musicians Borrowing from Other Arts 191
in London’s Royal Festival Hall, the Barbican Concert Hall and the Royal
Albert Hall. There are just not the audiences to sustain the frequency of
classical concerts that these venues were once able to mount.
2) What do Audiences seek by Engaging with a Live Event?

What is it that people seek from live events? How do we find out? What
does the research tell us? If you seek answers to these questions from regular
attendees to concerts you’re likely to get a confirmation of the status quo;
these are the people who are happy with things just the way they are. What
is needed is information from people who don’t go regularly to concerts,
and this is harder to obtain. One of the most interesting attempts to do this
is a research study by Dobson (2010). She recruited nine culturally aware
25-34 year olds who were regular attendees at arts events but had not
attended any classical concerts recently. She persuaded them to attend three
classical concerts and then interviewed them afterwards about their
experiences and reactions. Two of these concerts were rather traditional
symphony concerts, one with the London Symphony Orchestra at the
Barbican and one with the London Chamber Orchestra at St John’s Smith
Square. The final concert was the Night Shift series of the Orchestra of the
Age of Enlightenment. Dobson describes the Night Shift thus:
It is promoted as an informal event. Audience members are informed
that they can talk, drink, move around the auditorium while the
concert is in progress and that they can applaud whenever they wish.
Verbal provision of information is key to the Night Shift’s concept.
Audience members are provided with a free programme sheet, rather
than full programme notes, but a significant proportion of the
concert’s running time is devoted to discussion by the performers,
facilitated by a presenter. (Dobson, 2010)
Here is a typical response from one of the participants comparing

the LSO concert to the OAE one:
I did like yesterday (OAE) a lot. The fact that, I don’t know, in
the Barbican (LSO) it was like they were playing, and the feeling
was like, if we were not there it would have been exactly the
same - yeah? Whereas yesterday, it’s like we were all in one thing
- it’s like we were a part, and were completely a part of it. And I
did, really did, like that feeling. It was like he was really talking
to us, and telling us: ‘This how it is, this is how it will be, this is
how I’m going to do it, and I hope you like it’. I don’t know, it
was like, yeah, making us part of that, and I did love it, absolutely,
it was great (Dobson, 2010)
Dobson argues that this strongly emphasises the points of inclusion

and participation, and we could draw from such studies a working
hypothesis; that the potential audiences for live events want something
special from their attendance. They want to be part of a unique event,
an encounter. It’s not enough to know that some people rate this work,
or this performer highly, they want to know what going to this concert
in this room on this night will bring them that they can’t get by staying
at home and listening to the same work on CD. They want to meet the
performers and each other, as well as the work.
3) How are Classical Music Events Different from Other Arts

Events?
Our third question asks what dimensions do live events vary on, and where
does classical music lie within this? We propose some key dimensions
noticeable in live events, and some comments on where classical music events
tend to lie on these dimensions in relation to other arts. They are not the only
dimensions, neither do we claim any particular originality in their formulation,
but they do seem to us to encapsulate major distinctions that pervade both
informal experience and scholarly thought. The first dimension is established
work versus new work, and in what proportion. Established work means work
in repertoire of tried and tested value, often by authors or composers no longer
alive. In general the programmes of major classical venues concentrate on
established work. Indeed, a festival like The Proms takes pride in the pedigree
of each work performed and will list in the programme for a particular year
how many previous years it was performed in. In contrast, programmes of
major theatres in cities such as London, have a very high proportion of new
work alongside the established. Even art galleries that build their reputation on
established work and work of dead artists, tend to have major exhibitions of
relatively recent work or work not exhibited before.
The second dimension is predictable versus unpredictable. This is
determined by such factors as the nature and order of the programme,
whether known in advance or not, and the level of improvisatory or ad-
libbing moments to be found. Very often there is no advance programme
at a pop, folk or jazz concert. Plays tend to be highly predictable -audiences
go to see a named play, but elements of the production are often highly
unpredictable, for example operas and plays restaged to contemporary
settings, with contemporary ad libs. For example, in The Globe Shakespeare
plays, actors have been seen to use mobile phones – to general audience
approval. Other productions vary sets, lighting, costume.
Classical concerts by contrast, are often highly predictable. The

programme specifies exactly what will be played, in what order, and the
degrees of freedom for the performers are quite limited. What they play,
how they are arranged on the stage, how they behave, what they wear,
is very similar from event to event. Ad libs are minimal and often
squeezed to the margins, as in encores, which in some ways could be
seen as the acknowledgement from the performers that the main event
failed to meet some important audience need. The more predictable, the
less easy it is to generate the sense of an event – something special.
In an art gallery there is a real sense in which you can create your
own special event every time you go, by the choice of exhibits you
decide to visit and the order in which you do so. No visit is like any
other.
The third dimension is personal versus impersonal. This relates to the
level of personal engagement of the projection of performers and also to the
level of engagement of audience members with each other. There are
considerable differences across performances regarding how far performers
stay in strict performer roles, or step outside the role and project themselves
as people. One kind of projection is talking directly to the audience either
from the stage, or more informally, before or after the performance.
Another kind of projection relates to the degree of self-conscious acting e.g.
projection of emotional and other qualities through such things as body
movement, facial expressions, or vocalisations. In classical music this is often
restrained or idiosyncratic. Either performers try to be neutral and invisible,
or, as in the case of some well-known soloists, they engage in exaggerated
gestures, which are often highly similar across different performances — a
kind of gestural personal signature. In opera and theatre these things are
generally highly consciously managed as part of the stagecraft.
There are also variations in the degree to which personal projection of
audience members is allowed and encouraged. In theatre and cinema for
instance, vocalisations such as laughter are not only allowed, they are expected.
This not only communicates to the performers, but also is a form of audience-
to-audience interaction, and a form of emotional contagion — a responsive
audience that laughs a lot can usually enhance the experience of drama. In
contrast, the average symphony concert encourages impersonalisation.
The general rule is: Ignore your neighbour and don’t draw attention to yourself.
Concentrate on the event.
Fourthly, active versus passive, which is about the level of audience
behaviour and communication. Live arts vary considerably in what is
permitted or expected of the audience in terms of active engagement.

In some events active behaviour is allowed, or encouraged. In some
forms, such as pop, opera or jazz, it is perfectly acceptable to clap or
cheer at points where you feel someone has done something particularly
excellent or moving. In classical concerts you generally wait until the
end of a work, even if the work has multiple movements. Then there
are the so-called promenade events where it is permitted or encouraged
to move, be it dancing, moving in one’s seat, or actually moving around
the space. In this sense, art galleries are permanent promenade venues
and provide a lot of autonomy and agency to the visitor, but many
performance contexts discourage any movement or indeed sound.
There are issues of authority, which impinge upon many venues and
events. A lot of art places audiences in the position of a humble viewer,
coming into the presence of greatness. In this mode, the audience may
feel it has nothing to give, only to receive.
It wouldn’t be unfair to say that classical music events are, in
general, established, predicable, impersonal and passive, by modern
standards, in comparison to what else people can pay to go to. Audience
inclusion and participation is more likely to occur at events, which
contain elements of the new, the unpredictable, the personal and the
active. This means that classical events struggle to give many types of
audience the experience which they want and seek.
How can more of what audiences seek be added to live events? We’d
like to argue that one way to do this is by shifting the event along one or
more of the dimensions identified above. Two examples of classical music
concerts which are particularly successful at building and maintaining
audiences, which include younger audiences: are the BBC Proms
(Promenade Concerts, the UK’s largest annual classical music festival) and the
previously mentioned Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment’s Night Shift.
Why do the Proms work so well? There are several things that are very
consciously supported and maintained: to build inclusion and participation
beginning with the sociability of the queue outside, continuing in the
promenade spaces where the absence of seats encourages a democratic and
fluid sense of being part of something larger than yourself; the ability to sit
or lie also increases the sense of informality or connectedness to others.
Then there is the power one draws from one’s sense of being at the centre
of a globally broadcast event in real time and the presenters have a strong
role in connecting the audience and the performers in the hall to the outside
world; also, the knowledge that you might be on camera or be interviewed.
All this presupposes top quality performances of well-chosen works, but

these factors provide an added extra.
Inspired by Dobson’s research, one of us sampled a Night Shift
performance in an action research mode. This was part of the Spitalfields
Festival, which is held in a trendy nightclub in Hoxton. The classical
element of the evening was a one-hour concert running from 9-10pm.
However, one’s £8 entry ticket bought one the whole evening in the
club, from when the doors opened at 8, right through to the small hours,
and there was only one hour that classical music took place in. By 9pm,
the venue was packed with several hundred people. There were no seats
at all, so people were either sitting on the floor, or standing around the
walls, already most with beer or wine in hand. Almost everyone in the
room was under 35.
The programme was made of movements from works by G F
Handel, concerti grossi and operatic arias. The twelve-piece orchestra stood
on the small stage. The entire programme was compèred by a very informal
and engaging presenter with a radio microphone who went among the
performers between each piece interviewing them about their instruments,
the challenges of playing in period style or of these pieces, and eliciting
their sense of engagement with, and enthusiasm for, this music. There
was lots of potential for audience response, laughter, and conversations
with neighbours, freedom to move around the space. There was very
much a party atmosphere. The playing and singing were first rate and
it was noticeable that during the playing and singing there was pretty
much absolute silence. The applause was frequent, vocal and enthusiastic,
and was clearly buoying the performers up as well as the whole room.
One was able to feel that one had not only met Handel and a wonderful
performance of his works but that one had met the performers and their
enthusiasms alongside fellow audience members in a quite unique way.
When engaging the audience in this way one might ask how much of
this is the responsibility of the musician? The received conservatoire view
of the earlier-mid 20th century perhaps, is that the musician’s job is to play
to his or her best ability; all the surrounding arrangements are done by
someone else. Which someone else? How trained? How in communication
with the musicians or audience? These are interesting questions, whose
traditional answers place this responsibility at the door of the impresario, the
producer, the venue manager, the orchestral manager, the public relations
person, the critic, and the programme note writer. On a traditional model,
all, or most of those will have had little or no contact with the musicians as
such, who arrive at the venue, get their instruments out of their cases and
play. Based on our investigations, we suggest that the musician needs to be
a part of this team: receptive to what is being asked of them and in some
contexts, playing a more engaged role.
5) Why are Classical Musicians not as focused on Audiences as

They might be?
We argue that classical musicians today are not as focused on audiences
because of changes that took place in the nineteenth century in how we
think about and perform music that are still in effect today. These
changes saw music go from something that musicians brought fully into
being in front of an audience, to something that existed in its own right,
regardless of whether it was performed or not. This in turn affected the
dynamics between performers, audience and composers, and where
performers directed their attention in performance.
In the eighteenth century, when musicians performed at occasions
both sacred and secular, the expectation of listeners was that music would
be newly composed or customized for the occasion. Bach’s 200 or so
surviving cantatas were written to service the Lutheran church calendar
(Wolff, 2000), and Vivaldi’s 500-plus concerti were primarily for use by the
students in one of four institutions in Venice that gave orphans a vocational
training in music (Taruskin, 2005). Whilst these familiar names were
prolific even by standards of the day, there were other ways that performers
could satisfy a public need to hear something different without relying on
newly composed music. In some traditions, particularly Italian music, the
score was treated as more of a skeleton outline that could be melodically
embellished by the performer. A comparison of the published versions of
Corelli’s op. 5 no. 9 sonata that attempt to capture the various ways well-
known performers ornamented the same melody show the difference that
a musician’s individual taste could have on the performance of the same
work (see Stowell, 2001). Arrangements were common and performers
would write what amounted to ‘cover versions’ of popular works. Another
example from Corelli - his La Folia variations (op. 5 no. 12) – consisting of
a set of variations on an already familiar ground bass (a form that provided
a vehicle for performers to showcase their inventiveness around a repeating
bass line) was rearranged by fellow composer-violinist Geminiani to
capitalize on the popularity of a good tune and to showcase his own flashy
virtuosity. Conventions in notation aided the rapid writing of music, in
that composers combined the written note with a system of shorthand
signs, such as figured bass and ornamentation knowing that performers could
be relied upon to decipher according to a combination of local custom and
practice, and personal judgement and taste. Playing ‘the notes on the page’
and no more would have bewildered and disappointed many audiences,
particularly in Italy, at this time.
What effects did these practices have on the dynamics between
performers, composers and audience? If one was asked to put these groups
of people into a hierarchy, one could say that the audience, of noble
patrons and ticket paying middle classes commanded the most authority.
Popular performers — the very best with superstar status — held a fair
amount of power, followed lastly by composers (Taruskin, 2005). With
music being written, realized, arranged or improvised for specific
audiences and occasions, the reactions of the audience were at the
forefront of both composers’ and performers’ minds. Audiences were also
much more distractible and demonstrative in their reactions than today.
Accounts of opera seria audiences border on the anarchic, with servants
preparing dinner, people milling around playing cards, widespread
chatting and general inattention the norm until a favoured singer
appeared onstage to sing an aria. For instrumental music, Richard
Taruskin has speculatively likened Vivaldi’s audiences for his concerti to
those of modern day rock concerts in his description of ‘a house full of
shouting, clapping, stamping listeners’ (2005, 223). Though composers
could incorporate their knowledge of the audience’s reactions at speed into
their next compositions, even more immediate was the feedback loop set in
motion between performers and their audiences. Charismatic performers
could use their greater powers of musical autonomy to play to the floor.
If these practices emphasized the centrality of the performing
musician in front of an audience to bring music to life, during the
nineteenth century when the desire for new music was replaced by a
mania for old music, performers assumed a very different role (Taruskin,
2005). As the idea of a canon of music deemed to be ‘classic’ because of its
perceived quality became the norm, performers were asked to perform
the same works over and again (Weber, 2008). The practices that had
enabled musicians to respond flexibly in the moment to their audiences
to endlessly vary and showcase their inventiveness and technique were
replaced by careful preparation of detailed notated scores that were seen
to be if not wholly equivalent to ‘the music itself’, to hold the key to an
ideal-type of performance as sanctioned by ‘the composer’s intentions’.
Though this music could be performed in front of an audience, it also
existed in its own right as a work, regardless of whether it was performed

or not (Goehr, 1992). Dressed in black or concealed in a pit, performers
came to be faceless mediators between the composer, now elevated to the
status of a creative genius, and a silently reverential audience eager to
enjoy a quasi-spiritual experience – a far cry from the demonstrative
rowdiness of earlier audiences (Cook, 1998).
If audiences now came to hear the masterworks of composers rather
than performances of particular musicians, the hierarchy of authority of
the eighteenth century between composers and performers was turned
on its head. At first, audiences were still important in an age where
noble patronage was on the decline and public concerts came of age; the
concert societies that sprung up in Paris, Vienna and London dedicated
to the new middleclass passion for Beethoven relied upon audience
revenue and approval (Weber, 2008). But as the nineteenth century
progressed, the idea that audiences might have to work to understand
the offerings of great composers became the norm. Public reception of
Beethoven’s late works show how at the time of composition, some
were written off as incomprehensible, but then later re-cast as great
works from a genius who was ahead of his time (Knittel, 1998).
This recasting of audiences as unable to comprehend great art
became entrenched in the twentieth century as abstract and difficult art
became the norm. When Schoenberg adventured into atonality, he was
fuelled by a desire to enter the canon of great composers by being
original, not by being popular. When the conservative general public
of Vienna didn’t know what to make of his music, he sidestepped them
by presenting his new works to small member-only societies of new
music enthusiasts (Taruskin, 2005). Adorno characterized audiences for
music that had a wide public appeal such as jazz as having the worst kind
of taste, symptomatic of the commodification of culture (Paddisson,
1997). Under twentieth century modernism, audience taste could not
be taken as a barometer of value.
Music education too reflected the differences in the dynamic between
performers, composers and audience (Ford, 2011). When performers’
primary roles were to entertain audiences or provide music for social or
religion occasions, musicians were taught a range of skills. The music
orphanage of Venice over which Vivaldi presided taught performance on
multiple instruments, singing, composition, arrangement and improvisation
(Baldauf-Berdes, 1993). But later when composers held both performers and
audiences in something of a didactic relationship, education changed too.
The Paris Conservatoire, which opened in 1795, not only embodied and
institutionalized these changes in the nineteenth century, but also provided
the model for how we train musicians today (Ford, 2011).
As the role of performers changed from those who were expected to
make their own mark on a performance to one of faithful interpretation,
specialism on a single instrument or vocal type became the norm. This was
accompanied by the pursuit of a virtuosic technique, to be able to accurately
realise the composer’s score, and a standardisation of musical performance.
One method of standardisation was that acclaimed professors at the Paris
Conservatoire were required to publish their teaching manuals. This meant
that all students in the school could use the same teaching materials. So, where
previously the teacher’s individual artistry and idiosyncrasy would have
driven lessons and the musician’s ability to do a job or please an audience
would have been the most important marker of success, now standards were
being established and maintained by adherence to official standards as
monitored through exams and prizes (Ford, 2011). By the end of the
nineteenth century, rather than being seen as a professional training school or
a route to employment, conservatoires, which had mushroomed in every
European country, America, Russia and beyond, were seen as protectors of
certain musical standards, both of technique and in interpretation.
This training produced well-disciplined performers for audiences
who were familiar with the canon of western classical music (Leech-
Wilkinson, 2016); it worked in an age when the authority of the canon as
high art went unquestioned. However, the majority of today’s younger
audiences, as discussed above, want something different. In the absence of
deference for these cherished works and composers, once again, they are
seeking a relationship with the performer. Rather than wanting to know
more about the work through a pre-concert lecture, audiences now would
prefer to meet the performers themselves after the concert. The emphasis
it seems has shifted back from the composer to the performer.
But as music students prepare for the professional world, do we
encourage them to think about their audiences as well as the composer
or the notional work? Does our current advanced education, still largely
following a nineteenth century model, prepare them for this? This is a
question that some at the Guildhall School have been applying their
minds to.
6. How can Conservatoire Training be enriched to Equip

Musicians with more Audience Awareness?
Since 2009, a number of projects have been initiated at the Guildhall School
of Music & Drama to explore how the musician-audience relationship may
be enhanced or rebalanced. We briefly describe three of these projects,
which all have in common is that they involve collaborations between artistic
pedagogues (who are generally international-level artists in their own right)
and career researchers. The aim of the collaborations has been to support,
document, and evaluate innovations in musician-audience relationships.
6.1 Music and Drama Students working alongside Each Other

One approach being tried at the Guildhall, capitalising on its status as
both a music and drama school, is to involve musicians in projects
where they work alongside drama students. Before we present the
outcomes of some empirical research based on interviews with students
involved in these collaborative projects, we will outline some of the
findings from a literature review comparison of values in music and
drama (Ford & Sloboda, 2012).² We found that drama had completely
different attitudes towards audience and their equivalent of the score,
the text, than musicians. Firstly, performance to an audience is thought
of as being an inseparable part of theatre, whereas in music it is possible
to play in private for your own personal enjoyment. There are whole
genres of keyboard music or chamber pieces, designed to be played only
for the benefit of the people in the room. Theatre, practitioners tell us,
unlike reading, requires an audience to be theatre. So let’s compare the
differences this brings about.
We have already discussed conventions of audience behaviour.
Theatre audiences it seems, never lost permission to show appreciation
or response while the performance is taking place. By contrast, audience
members at classical music concerts are regarded as backward if they
start clapping between movements of sonatas or symphonies, let alone
during the middle of a performance.
This anecdote forms a bridge to our next point, that music and drama
differ in whether they see the audience as an integral part of the performance,
or as something separate or incidental. In the acting and theatre studies
literature there are multiple references to an active feedback loop between
audience and performers. For instance, Merlin writes ‘It’s about listening to
the audience and the subtle exchanges with them... If you can listen to the
audience and the energy they feed you... then it won’t be hard to know what
to do in the given circumstances of any particular piece’ (2018, 4). There isn’t
a notion of an ideal type performance existing in the text or somewhere out
there that the performers are trying to realise, but rather, the performance
comes into being in front of an audience (Freshwater, 2009). This contrasts
with both the literature about and the practice of music performance, where
the audience is seen as separate from the process of performance, often
described as an ‘extramusical’ element (see for instance, McPherson & Schubert,
2004, p.70). Musicians talk about performing as if they are reproducing
something that already exists (Ford, 2013); analysis of recordings of the same
repertoire over a period of time can show successive performances to be
similar to the point of being near identical, prompting the question of where
the creativity in performance lies (Leech-Wilkinson, 2011). While the
performance is happening 'over here', the audience are seen as 'out there', an
incidental rather than integral part of the experience of live performance.
Developments in twentieth century avant-garde theatre and music
have taken these two different ways of thinking about the audience in
opposite directions. Site-specific and interactive theatre are just some
examples of ever-more engaged forms of audience participation. For
instance, performances by the London theatre company Punchdrunk have
audiences free to roam throughout the site of the production, thus viewers
have a high degree of autonomy to construct their own experience of the
production. In interactive theatre ‘You Me Bum Bum Train’ (again
showing in London, since 2010), audiences promenade through a series of
scenes as spectators, but also at points find themselves as impromptu actors
as they are enlisted to take part in the show’s action. Though these
experiences can be disorientating as well as empowering for audience
members, they signal a clear desire on the part of theatre-makers to create
new relationships between audience and performers (Freshwater, 2009). It
is hard to find an equivalent in music; whilst mainstream pop music culture
embraces fans' vocal or physical participation, avant-garde 'art' music, by
and large presumes a traditional seated, silent audience. The number of
contemporary classical compositions where the audience are given significant
roles has been very small, even though — in the only case where this has been
systematically documented (Toelle & Sloboda, 2019) — audience members
find the experience highly motivating and engaging.
It appears that these different artistic attitudes to audience are
reproduced in professional training as well. Whilst musicians are taught
through the principal study system in one-to-one lessons and are then
expected to engage in individual solo practice to improve and learn

repertoire, actors train in groups. Though music students do rehearse in
ensembles, the majority of their practice time is spent alone, so the
experience of performing to others often feels unfamiliar. Although actors
are expected to do some voice work and learn their lines on an individual
basis, the bulk of their learning, skill acquisition and rehearsal of repertoire
takes place in groups. Thus throughout their training, they have a sense
of performing to an audience, even if it is just the company of actors in
the room (Ford, 2013).
The Guildhall School projects which brought together music and
acting students collaboratively lead to some new discoveries for the
musicians taking part. The distinctive element of all these projects was the
onstage interaction of musicians and actors. Rather than sitting hidden or
offstage, the musicians, as well as performing music, took part in the stage
action, becoming part of the actors’ ensemble. Actors either took part in
the musical performance through song or vocal soundscapes and it was a
creative challenge to see how music, musicians and their instruments could
be incorporated into the dramatic action. Rehearsals took place together,
intensively, as a single company over a period of several weeks. This
contrasts with other more traditional models of collaboration for opera or
musicals where actors prepare separately from the orchestra and are then
joined by musicians at a late stage, often, because of economic or timetabling
constraints, for the first time just in the dress rehearsal.
The different kinds of actor/musician collaboration that took place at
the Guildhall and that the empirical data was gathered from ranged from
text-based, that is realising a play with a musical score and a text, to fully
devised work, so performers through improvisation workshops devised
either the play or the music, or sometimes both. This devised work has also
included input from a composer and dramaturge to guide improvisation
workshops or to knit improvisatory fragments into a larger structure to
come up with the final work to be performed. Research was undertaken on
these collaborations so that musicians and actors were interviewed both
before and after the projects began, and we draw on data from three projects
here. One was text-based and the other two were devised. There were both
artistic and educational benefits recorded from these musician-actor
collaborations, and we use the earlier outlined categories of established versus
new, predictable versus unpredictable, impersonal versus personal and
inactive versus active, to discuss the results of what the musicians reported
working alongside actors.
We first look at the “established versus new” dimension. From a modus

operandi of performing off-stage using a score, musicians had to revise their
roles. For example, a cellist who was playing onstage throughout a song
became implicated as a character from the drama. Whilst providing the musical
backdrop, she also became the character the actor was singing about and by the
end of the song she became part of the action. With the devised projects, there
was a further departure from the established norm of performing canonical
repertoire, which was cast aside as musicians adopted roles of improviser-
composer, making them think about the role of music in relation to the
narrative or stage action. Musicians reported finding ways to be creative as
improvisers which felt like they were exercising different creative muscles
because they weren’t thinking solely in terms of interpretation.
Our next category: predictable versus unpredictable. Music students
reported discovering a sense of spontaneity in their performance, through
both improvisation and being in contact with actors. They contrasted this
against their mainstream studies where they said that the goal was
perfection; as one student said 'in classical performance, perfection is
everything'.³ When interpreting works, a student described his
experience of performance as: “You have been working on a piece and
then you have to go and deliver it. There is no interaction from different
people and everything is quiet. You go in there and you play […],
everything has been prepared and practiced for many, many hours.”
However, through improvised performance, students reported a
renewed sense of spontaneity. In this, they were also influenced by the
actors' attitudes towards risk-taking and creative play in rehearsal. In
opposition to the classical music quest for perfection, the director of one
project said 'for actors it’s fundamental to their process to accept that
they must fail and fail again' (Sloboda, 2011).
Some students said that they’d managed to carry the spirit of
spontaneity back across to their mainstream classical repertoire, so after
they’d had these experiences with actors they felt that they’d
reconnected with that initial impulse of fun that they’d had when they
were younger. There was one student in particular who said that just
before he went onstage he remembered the spirit of risk-taking and
playfulness of what he’d done with the actors and tried to recapture it in
classical performance. Another student who had reported being
profoundly affected by collaborative work also said his teacher had
noticed a difference of her students who were taking part in the project
and asked ‘what are you […] doing there?’
Thirdly, impersonal to personal: this manifested itself in how music

students were thinking about their audiences. Music students said that
they found actors' warm up routines, where all students were in a circle
doing exercises to connect with each other embedded the notion of
preparing for public performance into their regular practice. Instead of
preparing their interpretation of a work in a practice room in an abstract
sense and only thinking about the audience near to the time of the
concert or not at all, students said they were more inclined to think
about their audiences, and how to project their ideas across to them
during their regular practice.
Musicians also found another way of communicating with an
audience, a regular concern of actors, through physical presence. A
music student commented on this saying that in collaborative work:
…presence was much more important here, and we were
incredibly aware of our bodies and how we act with our bodies
as well. Whereas in a classical concert you are just here as a
violinist, you’re incredibly focused on what you’re doing up
here, and in performance you don’t really think about the rest of
you, whereas with actors I’m really aware of where I am in the
space and how I’m projecting outwards.
This had an impact on how musicians thought of not just the sound that
was coming out, but also the physical motions that they used to convey
that message.
Finally passive versus active. Music students reported feeling closer to
the audience as the theatre audiences were more immediately responsive.
Speaking at the outset of collaboration, some said they had no way of
knowing what audience members felt in classical concerts until they
clapped at the end, and some said that even the clapping at the end they felt
to be quite uniform and perfunctory from concert to concert. So students
were saying ‘well, I turn up and I play, and audiences just clap as they’re
scripted to do’. They didn’t report noting a difference between audiences’
response in a good performance or a bad performance. However, with
taking part in collaborative work, music students noticed a difference in
audience reaction. This might have been because the performance space
was extremely small so that the audience was in close proximity, but the
musicians said that they actually noticed the audience reactions during the
performance - for some musicians they declared this was the first time
they’d actually felt a relationship with the audience during a performance.
A student remarked: ‘you’re used to sitting on a platform and it all gets very
serious and very professional, so it was great to actually feel a closer

relationship with the audience.’
6.2 Obtaining Artist-Directed Feedback from Live Audiences

Classical musicians generally have rather limited means of obtaining direct
and detailed feedback from their live audiences. This is often restricted to
applause at the end of the piece and the somewhat intangible “the feel of the
room”. This is in contrast to some other genres of music, where through
movement, clapping, or vocalizing, performance conventions allow audience
members to respond in real time to the music-making unfolding on stage
(Small, 1998).
Many research studies exist which collect detailed evaluative responses
from music listeners. But these have mostly been carried out without
reference to the specific concerns or interests of the musicians involved,
even when the event is a live performance. In fact, in the vast bulk of
existing music perception research, the musicians involved in making the
music don’t even know that the research on their music is taking place.
Our research approach looks at the potentials that can be realised
when musicians themselves take a lead in the formulation of the research
questions that are posed to the audience, and are centrally involved in
the review of the data so obtained.
We have now worked across five different artistic projects in a process
which involves (a) discovering artistically relevant questions which can be
validly posed to audience members, (b) collaboratively devising appropriate
means of collecting this data (always a post-performance discussion,
augmented in two cases by a questionnaire), (c) jointly reviewing the
outcomes of the event, and the audience data, (d) obtaining reflective
feedback from those involved regarding the value of being involved in
the exercise.
Here, we propose to focus in on what this process has yielded in
more detail by looking at one of these events (some of the other events
are described in more detail elsewhere, see Sloboda & Dobson (2012)
and Dobson & Sloboda (2013).
The event in question was a new staging of Kurt Weill’s Ballet Chante,
the “Seven Deadly Sins”. Our collaborators were the directors, the
actor/singers, and the conductor of the orchestra.
“Seven Deadly Sins” is a satirical sung ballet, composed to words by
Bertholt Brecht, and first performed in 1933. The plot depicts the fortunes of
two American sisters in the Great Depression who set out from their family
in Louisiana to earn enough money to send home to allow the family to build
a little house on the Mississippi. The work is primarily a critical commentary
on the way in which capitalism dehumanizes people and commodifies
personal relationships.
The creative team consisted of a student artistic director, a student
musical director/conductor, and two staff members acting as project
advisors.
A member of the research team (JS) met with the creative team 6
months ahead to discuss collaboration. Thereafter one of the staff
members in the team (BF) acted as performer-researcher liaison, and
took primary responsibility for generating and passing on a set of agreed
questions from the creative team.
The questions for post-performance discussion generated by
creative team:
- What do you think the message of the work that you have just
seen is?
Is the message still relevant today?
- Does Weill’s music contribute to this message?
- What were some of the effects of this work and how we staged it
on you the audience?
- How did you experience these? (for instance, did it bring the
message out, or did it alienate/patronize you)?
- Do we still believe that theatre has the capacity to provoke
political change amongst its audiences – or is it just another cultural
commodity?
The creative team decided to invite a well-known classical performer/
teacher to chair a post-performance discussion as the means of obtaining
audience feedback. A member of the research team (JS) held two pre-
event briefing meetings with the chair.
The post-performance discussion took place in the performance space
immediately after the performance, and involved, in addition to the chair,
three members of the creative team, and two of the singer/actors. It lasted
about 30 minutes. Over half the audience remained for the discussion,
which was pre-announced at the start of the performance.
A few weeks afterwards, post-event feedback was elicited from the
artist participants in the discussion, four of whom attended a one-hour
recorded meeting with the researchers, one of who sent in written
comments by email. Thematic analysis of this feedback was undertaken.
Our treatment of results here focuses on the social factors that were
seen as facilitating or inhibiting the process for the people involved.
Firstly, focusing the creative team on formulating research questions,
which were known to the cast during rehearsals, sharpened the rehearsal
process itself, and made it more goal-directed and self-reflective. (Conductor)
“But it was good though… because once we had those questions, it enabled
us to shape the performance as well. So it gave us a direction for this and a
direction for the performance.” And: (Singer/Actor) “It enabled us to make
much clearer choices in the setting and things like that, yeah, certainly”
Secondly, participating in the post-performance discussion changed
the power relationships between performers and audience, reducing the
disparity, which was experienced as both positive but also anxiety
provoking and challenging.
it’s a strange headspace to be in, suddenly conducting, and turn
around and open your mouth. And I must admit, I was really
nervous actually. But it was good. What I really like about it is that
you get the immediacy of the people’s reactions (Conductor) It was
just odd. I had never experienced it before. It was almost as if instead
of walking through the stage door after the performance, you
walked through the audience door…It detracted from the post-
performance high ... To be completely honest it took away from
my ego. (Singer/actor)
Additionally, the process involved transacting new power relations

between researchers, performers, and curator/chair.
I did ask a question of the audience. I think I wouldn't have been
comfortable to keep on coming up with more audience questions.
Because then the question is, am I trying to take over [the chair’s] job.
So I think there was a sort of thing…I suppose, [he] was chairing it, but
he wasn’t actually… he hadn’t really been involved in the work. (Staff
project advisor).
Thirdly and finally, prior knowledge of the post-performance
element sharpened and focused the instrumentality of some audience
members, facilitating a valued transition from “passive recipient” to
“consultant”.
I think, from my experience with my friends that came along, they
changed… it changed the way that they approached the piece. They
didn’t go out to be entertained. They went out to have some input. And
it wasn’t in a negative way. They were ready for a post-performance, but
it wasn’t like they were getting dressed up to go to the West End. It was
that they were getting dressed up to go to a School and have an after-show
production talk, which changed the way they approached it. (Singer/Actor)
This project, as well as other studies in the set, show that when you
empower your audience it can raise the game for everyone.
6.3 Classical Improvisation as a Means of Enhancing Performer-

Audience eEngagement
Classical improvisation represents a very important attempt to challenge the
core of the prevailing conservatoire culture. Pedagogy in this area is a major
contribution of the Guildhall School. Such pedagogy encourages students to
radically challenge the notion that faithfulness to the score is a core or abiding
value. This work is based on the historical fact that until the late 19th Century,
improvisation was considered to be a core attribute of live performance.
Mozart and Beethoven would have been astonished with the contemporary
reverence accorded to their scores. They expected performers to take liberties
with the score, as they did themselves in performance (Dolan, Sloboda, Crutz
& Jeldtoft-Jensen, 2013).
It could be argued that historically authentic performance of much
classical repertoire requires (rather than invites) an improvisatory approach,
which may be defined as a spontaneous, in the moment, musically informed
variation in expressive parameters of timing, loudness, and timbre, along with
actual new notes.
Not only is such an approach more historically authentic, it does, it
can be argued, have the power to provide a more intense experience for all
concerned in live performance. This is because improvised performances
are newer, more unpredictable, more personal, and – arguably – invite
more audience engagement.
The basic pedagogical method developed at Guildhall School involves
teaching students how to do Schenkerian reductions on the music they are
playing, and then reconstruct performances that share the same reduction.
All this is done practically, through hearing and playing, with textual
backup, but the main mode is experiential.
We evaluated the impact of such an improvisatory approach in a
series of experiments exploring the hypothesis was that improvisation,
and improvisational state of mind during performance is associated with
heightened musical experience in terms of both performers’ engagement
and audience response (Dolan et al 2013, Dolan, Jeldoft Jensen, Mediano,
Molina-Solana, Rosas & Sloboda, 2018).
Our specific predictions were for (a) increased (more varied) and more
“risky” use of performance related parameters (Timings/ tempi/rhythms,
dynamics timbre and actual extemporized notes) by the musicians; (b)

increased ratings for judgments of “innovative”, “emotionally engaging” and
“musically convincing” from audience members; and finally (c) increased
activation of certain brain areas in both performers and audience and
increased synchronization in brain activity between performers and listeners.
We will here focus on a live concert by the “Trio Anima”. In that
concert, five pieces were each performed twice in two modes: ‘strict’
and ‘letting go’ (improvisatory state). The order of two modes was
switched around from piece to piece and was unknown to audience and
any co-author other than the first.
Questionnaires were administered to all audience members, who
filled in a number of responses after each pair of performances. We also
took brain measurements (EEG) from performers and two audience
members. Our results confirmed all three specific predictions.
Figure 1. Two types of performance: strict and letting-go (improvised)
First, the performances had clear objective differences. We found

greater expressive variation in the ‘letting go’ version than the strict
version, and also embellishments of the score.
Audience reactions were obtained by asking each audience member
to rate each performance on five separate dimensions, improvisatory in
character, innovative in approach, emotionally engaging, musically
convincing, and risk taking. On all these dimensions the improvised
pieces scored substantially higher (see Figure 1).
The ratings were supported by numerous written comments; of which

these are two which exemplify the very different feel of the two types of
performance. Strict: “Pleasantly played, though tame and conventional”.
Letting-go: “It was very intense. Musically a lot happened. The musicians were
really making music and telling a story together.”
Finally, the EEG data also showed numerous differences between
strict and improvised performances, for both performers and listeners. One
particularly striking finding was a contrast between performers, whose
brain centres for focused attention were less active during improvisation,
and listeners, who showed more activity in these areas (signaling a greater
attentive involvement).
A second finding was that improvisation yielded greater activation in
areas of motor control for both performers and listeners, even though
listeners remained very still (figure 2). It seems as if listeners mirrored the
movements of the musicians in their imagination.
Figure 2. Cerebral activation in areas of motor control for both performers and listeners
In conclusion, we have found consistent evidence that improvised

classical performances are experienced as significantly different by participants,
as indicated through both conscious verbal and unconscious brain responses,
as well as the musical features of the performances. This is the first study to
demonstrate this combination of effects and in a live concert situation.
7. Conclusions
In conclusion, we have attempted to look at difference facets of how
classical music can be said to differ from other arts in respect to musicians’
relationships to audiences and audiences’ relationships to classical music
events. We’ve presented some of the historical background of why
musicians aren’t focused on their audiences, and by outlining some of the
projects that have been happening at the Guildhall school, we have
suggested how musicians can learn different ways to be onstage and
different ways to communicate with audiences. What musicians can do
to bring classical music to new audiences is admittedly going to be a
complex task but we hope to have provided a few pointers.
Notes
1 This is a substantially updated version of a working paper first published in April 2012 at
https://www.gsmd.ac.uk/fileadmin/user_upload/files/Research/Sloboda-
Ford_working__paper_2_01.pdf
2 Ford and Sloboda, 2012 ‘Learning from artistic and pedagogical differences between musicians’
and actors’ traditions through collaborative processes’ in H. Gaunt and H. Westerland
Collaborative Learning in Higher Music Education: Why, What and How?, (Ashgate).
3 See also Ford (2011), for a discussion of the aesthetic and pedagogical drivers behind perfection
as a cherished musical value.
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MUSIC, SPEECH, AND MIND

Music and Cognition Series

Music, Speech, and Mind (2019)

Graphic Design: Marcos Nogueira

International Cataloging Data

Music, Speech, and Mind / edited by Antenor

No part this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any

6 On the semiotic and communicative status

7 Towards a musical larynx:

9 Exploring bridges between music therapy

10 Music therapy and music technology:

11 Ecological perspectives on musical parenting:

Aniruddh D. Patel, Professor of Psychology at Tufts

Antenor Ferreira Corrêa, Associate Professor at University of

Artur C. Jaschke, Professor (Lector) Music-Based Therapies

Beatriz Ilari, Associate Professor of Music Education at the

Beatriz Raposo de Medeiros, Associate Professor at

Biranda Ford, Guildhall School of Music & Drama, London,

Camila F. Pfeiffer, Head of Master of Music Therapy- ArtEZ

Carola Werger, Head of the ArtEZ Music Therapy

Cristina Zamani, Board Certified Music Therapist, Clinical

Fred Cummins, Associate Professor at School of Computer

Gonçalo T. Barradas, Researcher at Department of

Jens Allwood, Full Professor at University of Gothenburg,

Joel Krueger, Senior Lecturer, Department of Sociology,

John Sloboda, Guildhall School of Music & Drama, London,

Marĳke Groothuis, Senior Lecturer ArtEZ-Music Therapy

Patrik N. Juslin, Professor at Department of Psychology,

Simon Liljeström, Centre for Clinical Research, Västmanlands

Ulrik Volgsten, Professor at School of Music, Theatre and Art,

We aim to address six questions:

1) Why do Classical Musicians need to Build Audiences?

2) What do Audiences seek by Engaging with a Live Event?

Here is a typical response from one of the participants comparing

Dobson argues that this strongly emphasises the points of inclusion

3) How are Classical Music Events Different from Other Arts

Classical concerts by contrast, are often highly predictable. The

permitted or expected of the audience in terms of active engagement.

All this presupposes top quality performances of well-chosen works, but

5) Why are Classical Musicians not as focused on Audiences as

existed in its own right as a work, regardless of whether it was performed

6. How can Conservatoire Training be enriched to Equip

6.1 Music and Drama Students working alongside Each Other

expected to engage in individual solo practice to improve and learn

We first look at the “established versus new” dimension. From a modus

Thirdly, impersonal to personal: this manifested itself in how music

serious and very professional, so it was great to actually feel a closer

6.2 Obtaining Artist-Directed Feedback from Live Audiences

Additionally, the process involved transacting new power relations

6.3 Classical Improvisation as a Means of Enhancing Performer-

dynamics timbre and actual extemporized notes) by the musicians; (b)

Figure 1. Two types of performance: strict and letting-go (improvised)

First, the performances had clear objective differences. We found

The ratings were supported by numerous written comments; of which

In conclusion, we have found consistent evidence that improvised

McPherson, G., & Schubert, E. (2004). Measuring performance enhancement

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