“All curriculum needs a fresh look every now and then,” says Joel Puckett, composer and chair of Peabody’s Department of Music Theory, Ear Training, and Keyboard Skills. In 2021, he formed a committee and charged it with the task of reviewing and revising the required theory curriculum that all undergraduate Bachelor of Music candidates take. The eight-person committee included faculty members teaching classroom theory, ear training, and keyboard studies, and the hope was that a revised approach would better reflect and serve the increasingly varied musical backgrounds and professional goals of the student body.
The committee wrestled with the questions that today’s conservatory music educators face given the variety of ways that aspiring artists learn music today—be that training to read notes on a bar staff, or guitar tabs, lead sheets, digital renderings of soundwaves, strictly by ear, and more—and the many different ways they envision themselves working in and with music in their futures.
The new curriculum rolled out this current academic year. In the years to come, it will shape the way Peabody students learn, write, perform, and think about music. And it will serve as a testament to the idea that the fundamentals of a given artistic practice are always up for debate.
So what’s changed—and why?
In a recent article for the Journal of Music Theory Pedagogy, the committee co-chairs Paula Maust, assistant professor of Music Theory, and Vid Smooke, professor of Music Theory, describe the process behind their work. Inspired by her experience working with a strategic-planning consultant when she co-directed a Baroque ensemble, Maust encouraged the committee to use models from the nonprofit sector to focus their goals.
“I thought it would be a very effective way to structure our conversations in the same way—by identifying mission, vision, and values,” she says.
After that came the review. Peabody’s music theory curriculum was last revised in 2011–12. Content once taught over six semesters was compressed into five, freeing up the sixth semester for a writing-intensive class.
“But,” Maust and Smooke write, “we lost some of the rigor of the former curriculum without creating true freedom of choice.” As before, the music theory courses emphasized functional Western harmony and voice-leading practices and offered in-depth study of styles and forms from the Baroque and classical eras; less time was spent on the Baroque era and 20th-century techniques.
The new curriculum rolled out this current academic year. In the years to come, it will shape the way Peabody students learn, write, perform, and think about music. And it will serve as a testament to the idea that the fundamentals of a given artistic practice are always up for debate.
So what’s changed—and why?
In a recent article for the Journal of Music Theory Pedagogy, the committee co-chairs Paula Maust, assistant professor of Music Theory, and Vid Smooke, professor of Music Theory, describe the process behind their work. Inspired by her experience working with a strategic-planning consultant when she co-directed a Baroque ensemble, Maust encouraged the committee to use models from the nonprofit sector to focus their goals.
“I thought it would be a very effective way to structure our conversations in the same way—by identifying mission, vision, and values,” she says.
After that came the review. Peabody’s music theory curriculum was last revised in 2011–12. Content once taught over six semesters was compressed into five, freeing up the sixth semester for a writing-intensive class.
“But,” Maust and Smooke write, “we lost some of the rigor of the former curriculum without creating true freedom of choice.” As before, the music theory courses emphasized functional Western harmony and voice-leading practices and offered in-depth study of styles and forms from the Baroque and classical eras; less time was spent on the Baroque era and 20th-century techniques.
Here’s how one might describe the goal of Western music theory: that it’s about understanding why the ear seems to “pull” toward certain melodic gestures, chord progressions, and rhythms—and how breaking or fulfilling these expectations can create a sense of tension and resolution. It’s that continual flow of tension and resolution that propels nearly all music written in Europe between the 17th and 20th centuries—the era that saw the creation of the body of music literature and practices that we, in Westernized cultures, colloquially refer to as “classical” music.
It’s fascinating stuff—particularly if you’re interested in pursuing a career as a composer or conductor, both of which require a deep understanding of how music can operate at a macro level.
It’s also a very linear way of thinking about music. It prioritizes some fundamental concepts over others: a sound’s relationship to other sounds, for instance, rather than as a sound in itself. And when presented as “the” theory of music rather than “a” theory of music, it eschews other practices and perspectives.
So even though most music conservatories in the United States were established for the study and performance of Western classical music, how much sense does it make for them to continue to prioritize these practices at the expense of others?
Here’s how one might describe the goal of Western music theory: that it’s about understanding why the ear seems to “pull” toward certain melodic gestures, chord progressions, and rhythms—and how breaking or fulfilling these expectations can create a sense of tension and resolution. It’s that continual flow of tension and resolution that propels nearly all music written in Europe between the 17th and 20th centuries—the era that saw the creation of the body of music literature and practices that we, in Westernized cultures, colloquially refer to as “classical” music.
It’s fascinating stuff—particularly if you’re interested in pursuing a career as a composer or conductor, both of which require a deep understanding of how music can operate at a macro level.
It’s also a very linear way of thinking about music. It prioritizes some fundamental concepts over others: a sound’s relationship to other sounds, for instance, rather than as a sound in itself. And when presented as “the” theory of music rather than “a” theory of music, it eschews other practices and perspectives.
So even though most music conservatories in the United States were established for the study and performance of Western classical music, how much sense does it make for them to continue to prioritize these practices at the expense of others?
Salient among the committee’s findings were the results of placement exams for incoming students—and the realization that “we can no longer assume a shared background in notated Western classical music theory among our undergraduate students.”
Smooke explains that “there’s always been a significant minority of students at Peabody who come here not having read music as part of their musical practice, or not in the traditional, Western classical sense.” For example: guitarists who learn via tablature. That minority has only grown in recent years as Peabody has expanded courses of study to areas such as Hip-Hop, Music for New Media, and a larger Computer Music Department.
If a student’s focus is in Computer Music, Smooke says, “your notation is more about being able to look at a file in a digital audio workstation like Logic or ProTools, rather than looking at it written on a page in the Western classical notation.”
Because what purpose would such a rendering serve?
“One of the questions I always ask my classes is: What is Western classical music notation good at notating, and what is it bad at notating?” Smooke continues. “It’s very good at notating pitch within an equal temperament system and proportional rhythms. It’s very bad at notating everything else: timbre, non-proportional rhythms, the way something should be played. A lot of these are the most important parts of sound in other musical practices.”
They’re important in Western classical music, too—which speaks to another goal of the revision committee: to develop a curriculum that had clearer practical applications across degree programs. While a deep understanding of theory is immediately useful to composition students, for example, other majors—say, a flutist—might question how to apply this knowledge to their craft.
Maust describes informal conversations with performance faculty at Peabody. “Everyone said the exact same thing. They wanted there to be more of a connection made between how students are thinking about music theory and how they’re connecting it to whatever they’re doing artistically—as composers or as performers.”
Because what purpose would such a rendering serve?
“One of the questions I always ask my classes is: What is Western classical music notation good at notating, and what is it bad at notating?” Smooke continues. “It’s very good at notating pitch within an equal temperament system and proportional rhythms. It’s very bad at notating everything else: timbre, non-proportional rhythms, the way something should be played. A lot of these are the most important parts of sound in other musical practices.”
They’re important in Western classical music, too—which speaks to another goal of the revision committee: to develop a curriculum that had clearer practical applications across degree programs. While a deep understanding of theory is immediately useful to composition students, for example, other majors—say, a flutist—might question how to apply this knowledge to their craft.
Maust describes informal conversations with performance faculty at Peabody. “Everyone said the exact same thing. They wanted there to be more of a connection made between how students are thinking about music theory and how they’re connecting it to whatever they’re doing artistically—as composers or as performers.”
Which leads to the new curriculum.
In their paper, Maust and Smooke described the “daunting” nature of their task: “There are a wide variety of opinions in any department about what concepts are most important and a limited number of semesters in which to fit an ever-growing set of relevant musical skills.”
But this felt different. “Previous reconsiderationsof our curriculum had never begun with such a distinct consensus. We attribute this to the fact that [thecommittee] was guided by our mission, vision, and values statements.”
The result? The new curriculum still takes place over six semesters, and the four semesters of keyboard study and ear-training that were in place previously remain. The first three semesters of theory comprise the core curriculum, and differences in the topics covered are immediately apparent. Rather than kicking off with diatonic voice leading (i.e., how melodies and harmonies function in major and minor scales), the curriculum now begins with the study of sound itself. Over the first two weeks, students jump from an overview of the harmonic series—a study of the mathematical ratios inherent in sound—to sound envelopes and audio filters, methods that make use of the harmonic series to alter sound in music performance and composition.
From there, the curriculum navigates through studies of rhythm, harmony, counterpoint, and modal systems found in different parts of the world.
It’s not meant to be comprehensive, but rather to give students “access to tools to help them make sense of whatever music they intend to explore in their own artistic practice,” Smooke explains. And the broadened cultural perspective should “allow students to better understand why so many different types of music develop similarly,” Smooke continues. “For example, similar pentatonic scales are found in music from many different cultures, from China and Korea and Indonesia to West Africa and Western Europe.”
After the core classes, students enroll in two semesters of topics classes, which allow for a deeper study of specific styles. That can include the old standards of Baroque, Classical, or Romantic practices—or they may elect to study jazz harmony, pop music, world music, or other classes yet to be designed. In the sixth semester, students present a capstone project on a piece of music of their choosing, bolstered by instruction in writing and research methods.
Mariela Palencia is a sophomore studying Vocal Studies. She was enrolled in the old theory curriculum last academic year and is now taking theory classes under the new curriculum. “My favorite thing about it is I feel like it adapts to multiple genres,” she says. “The older theory curriculum stuck to one thing only.” The pacing feels better, too. “We take things step by step. Once we get that, we add on.”
Nash Imboden, a first-year jazz guitar student, feels a little differently. He’d like some topics to move more slowly, some faster, but recognizes that everyone comes into theory with different levels of experience. Imboden, for example, feels very comfortable with harmony—which makes sense—and less comfortable working with notated music. But that’s part of the reason he wanted to attend a conservatory. “Being surrounded by the classical program, I want to be able to participate as much as possible with it,” he says. “That requires being able to read it and understand it structurally.”
His goals mirror preferences that are likely prevalent among other students. Recently, Puckett issued a survey to gauge student interest in the forthcoming topics classes; at the top of the list were Classical Styles and 19th-century Romanticism. “It surprised me a little bit, but maybe it shouldn’t have,” he says. “In the middle were newer topics: 21st-century styles, jazz harmony, popular music.”
At the end of the day, Peabody has a long history in excelling at teaching a certain kind of music—and there’s value in focused study of a given topic, even if your artistic interests or career lead you elsewhere. Puckett hopes that’s part of the beauty of the new curriculum: its adaptability to student preferences.
“For a lot of people in our department, [our work] is about advancing progress for how to teach our students,” he says. “We’re never going to be perfect. But we should always strive to be more perfect—right?”
Mariela Palencia is a sophomore studying Vocal Studies. She was enrolled in the old theory curriculum last academic year and is now taking theory classes under the new curriculum. “My favorite thing about it is I feel like it adapts to multiple genres,” she says. “The older theory curriculum stuck to one thing only.” The pacing feels better, too. “We take things step by step. Once we get that, we add on.”
Nash Imboden, a first-year jazz guitar student, feels a little differently. He’d like some topics to move more slowly, some faster, but recognizes that everyone comes into theory with different levels of experience. Imboden, for example, feels very comfortable with harmony—which makes sense—and less comfortable working with notated music. But that’s part of the reason he wanted to attend a conservatory. “Being surrounded by the classical program, I want to be able to participate as much as possible with it,” he says. “That requires being able to read it and understand it structurally.”
His goals mirror preferences that are likely prevalent among other students. Recently, Puckett issued a survey to gauge student interest in the forthcoming topics classes; at the top of the list were Classical Styles and 19th-century Romanticism. “It surprised me a little bit, but maybe it shouldn’t have,” he says. “In the middle were newer topics: 21st-century styles, jazz harmony, popular music.”
At the end of the day, Peabody has a long history in excelling at teaching a certain kind of music—and there’s value in focused study of a given topic, even if your artistic interests or career lead you elsewhere. Puckett hopes that’s part of the beauty of the new curriculum: its adaptability to student preferences.
“For a lot of people in our department, [our work] is about advancing progress for how to teach our students,” he says. “We’re never going to be perfect. But we should always strive to be more perfect—right?”