Music Memory: Sparking a Lasting Passion

by P.R. Parker

     Mention "Music Memory" to any adult who attended a public or private school in Indianapolis between the years 1953 and 1974. Then expect a range of responses from fond sentiment to eye-rolling groans of exasperation. For some, it was the first (and only) exposure to classical music, and they still cringe at the memory of sitting in music class listening to numerous recordings of unfamiliar music composed by men whose names they could not pronounce, let alone spell. For many more, Music Memory opened an entire world previously unknown to children whose listening experiences were confined to whatever played on the local Top 40 AM radio station.
     Fortunately, I count myself as part of this latter group. From second to eighth grade, Music Memory became an annual ritual, and treat, as I eagerly awaited "Listening to that cool music." While several of my classmates routinely tuned it out, I quickly latched onto it, letting the music seep into my mind and soul until it became an all-consuming obsession.
     I attribute the annual contest to providing that initial spark that not only fostered a love for this music, but prepared me for more serious, more adventurous listening.

     From 1953 to 1974, Indianapolis' local media and symphony orchestra sponsored "Music Memory", an in-depth study of Western classical music. Students listened to selections of the world's most loved music, learned about the various composers and how each impacted the development of the performing arts. Its main objective was to expose young children and adolescents to classical music in ways that made learning to appreciate the genre fun and easy to grasp.
     Throughout the first two-thirds of the school year, music classes in both public and private schools spent at least one or two days per week listening to the year's Music Memory selections. During that time students diligently memorized a lengthy list of compositions and composers, and teachers administered both oral and written preliminary quizzes.
     By February, those youngsters who passed the preliminaries advanced the finals in March which was held at three locations during my school years. In my second through fourth grade years, the finals were held at the Indiana State Fairgrounds' Coliseum. From fifth grade onwards, the finals moved to the fabulous Clowes Hall. Of course, in either case, all youngsters had to dress appropriately – no scruffy jeans or "Saturday" clothes. This was, after all, a live performance by our great symphony orchestra given in a classy place, and such demanded "Sunday best."
     All finalists received certificates with the addition of a "Perfect Score" sticker affixed for those attaining such. There were also prizes, usually a classical recording or tickets to a concert. However, my seven-year participation in the contest wasn't just to earn certificates or prizes, although these items are still treasured mementoes. I just loved listening to the music and looked forward to seeing the orchestra in a live performance, both rare treats during my school years.

     Until second grade, serious exposure to classical music was scanty at best. While I recall, now, several hooks from famous works used in old cartoons, I had no clue, for example, that "Scary music" in a 1930's Vitaphone short was actually taken from Schubert's Erlkoing. Perhaps the frequent use of familiar (yet very unfamiliar to me) themes as background music somehow pre-wired my brain to become more receptive when I listened to an entire symphony for the first time.
     Despite imbibing an eclectic assortment of music – rhythm and blues, jazz, pop standards, country and folk – classical music was not played at home. Besides, in my house, we had only an AM radio. Classical music was, at the time, confined to FM.
     Consequently, the lack of experience and knowledge early in my childhood obviously created an empty well ready to be filled – albeit partially. What initial passion "Music Memory" sparked during my formative years, fully exploded by the time I reached eleventh grade then on into college. That spark would also set off a frenzy of record buying and borrowing, attending concerts and recitals, voracious readings on the great composers. There was ravenous, bordering on the fanatic, grasping for information on our local symphony orchestra. Then again, my newly acquired knowledge of all things classical music made me more aware of what played in the background of my favorite cartoons.
"Ah," I would comment while watching a classic Bugs Bunny short, "That is taken from Rimsky-Korsakav's Scheherazade."

     Even though "Music Memory" provided that initial exposure, my listening experience and understanding of classical music was still lacking. That shortcoming became apparent when I took a music appreciation class in college. I was in need of a fine arts credit, and since I loved music, even took music appreciation in high school, I thought the class would be an easy "A". I was wrong.
     Since my "Music Memory" days, the only classical music familiar to me was straight orchestral. I had no experience listening to chamber, choral, operatic, or solo vocal and instrumental music. Sonata form? That was a total blank. Acknowledging my limited knowledge bank, I plunged myself into the course materials and lessons, imbibing every nuance and essence of the various compositions. In that class I learned how to follow a full orchestral score, a skill I still use to this day. I learned to diagram the anatomy of a sonata and how to use it during listening. There is not a symphony, concerto, or sonata I cannot decipher – What is Theme A, where Theme B comes in, how the composer juxtaposes two or more melodies against each other, that what I am hearing is really a sort of call-and-response, a musical conversation among the various instruments.
     In the years following completion of the course, in which I did earn an "A", I delved more into my favorite music, wanting to a deeper, more meaningful listening experience. At that point, I had moved beyond the "Three B's" (Bach, Beethoven, Brahms), building my music library with an eclectic sampling of the great classics from early Baroque to contemporary.
     Being active in a church choir spurred me to seek out more choral and solo voice works, become more knowledgeable of the glorious Western high church music that was so absent in my childhood.
     During my substitute teaching days, I took many assignments in my alma mater's music department, often teaching music appreciation. In the 1997-1998 school year, during a two-week assignment, I co-taught a high school music appreciation class. While the students seemed to glower at the mention of "boring classical music", I became (and my colleague mentioned that fact) a student of music as well as teacher. What I did not previously know, I latched on to with renewed vigor and enthusiasm.
     During the 2001-2002 school year, that enthusiasm returned as I accepted a yearlong assignment in the music department. To my delight, I would be teaching music appreciation, however I had to research more of the topics to be covered. Although I already had a working knowledge of Western classical music, presenting the material to students whose limited or non-existent experience with the genre proved a challenge. Therefore, reaching back into my Music Memory lessons, I tailored the material that would ease students into enjoying, if not merely tolerating, classical music. Relating my childhood experiences and presenting the great composers as all too human certainly helped in making the music more palatable to an MTV, hip-hop generation. As always, I found myself learning along with the students, as well as imparting my previous knowledge and listening expertise. By end of the school year, I came away with a deeper love for classical music even if my students were just thankful they would not have to endure listening to another Beethoven symphony or Mozart concerto.

     Looking back, I truly believe if there had been no Music Memory contest, that natural affinity for classical music would have laid dormant for years. Without that initial listening experience, without that spark, my intense interest and desire to learn more would, most likely, had come later in life. The knowledge and understanding built up over the years would not see fruition as it does today. That deep listening enjoyment would not be as acute. In other words, the experience would not be the same.
     Perhaps it was a combination of good fortune and timing; if I had been born ten years later, a golden opportunity would have gone by, since the contest folded in 1974. How empty and meaningless life would be if I did not wake up with Wagner, commute with Tchaikovsky, or cap my day with Schubert. Well-known themes serving as background music in television programs and commercials would be totally foreign to my ears. Opportunities to impart my listening experiences to young people would not be possible.
     For myself, I am grateful to those entities who created this contest. What joy I would have missed if I had been absent that day, when Mrs. Wilson played the Unfinished Symphony.

Copyright©2005 by P.R. Parker. All Rights Reserved.