Information Communication Technologies as a Tool for
Re-imagining Music Education
in the 21st Century
Jonathan Savage
Manchester Metropolitan University
Citation: Savage, J. (2005, March 31). Information communication technologies as a tool for
re-imagining music education in the 21st century. International Journal of Education & the Arts,
6(2). Retrieved [date] from http://www.ijea.org/v6n2/.
Abstract
This article investigates a potential way ahead for music
education in the 21st century. Drawing on material
from the case study of a Manchester-based composer in northern
England, it argues that those within formal education should
examine more carefully the musical values and practices of
artists and composers working with
“technologically-enriched” contexts. It describes the
need for the reconsideration of the role of technology in music
education along with expanding the aims of music curricula and
the possibilities for cross-disciplinary practice. Finally, the
author urges all music educators to consider the wider artistic
opportunities that new information communication technologies (ICT)
can offer pupils.
Editors' Note: The author has supplied three musical tracks to
accompany this article. These tracks in MP3 audio format can be
downloaded by clicking on each link below:
Introduction
Ears become wired
And minds become strong because
You’re speaking the language
The language of music
The door is now open
To learn how to speak. (Young, 2003)
The last ten years have seen huge changes as
educators seek to respond to the challenges of new technologies.
Within music education there have been dramatic changes and it is
now commonplace to find a range of technologies, both hardware
and software, regularly used in music teaching throughout England
(Mills & Murray, 2000) and the USA (Webster, 2002). As Cain
points out:
These practical changes are very
considerable, and, what is perhaps even more important, they have
brought into question some of the most basic conceptual
frameworks that have underpinned music teaching. (Cain, 2004, p.
217)
Broad surveys of the use of technologies within
music education, both in the United States and the United
Kingdom, have much of value and give a helpful overview of the
state of play in schools and colleges. But this article takes an
alternative approach. It seeks to present a vision for music
education drawing exclusively on the work of one professional
artist, Alex (Note 1), from
Manchester in northern England. Alex was selected from a number
of composers interviewed as part of a wider piece of research
investigating approaches to song writing (Savage, 2003). This
article does not seek to make broad claims that can be
generalised to all teachers and artists. Rather, it is an
individual author’s attempt to imagine what music education
could, or should, look like if educators began to engage
seriously with the issues associated with the use of new
technologies in arts education. In Cain’s (2004) terms:
What questions do these new technologies pose of the
“conceptual framework” that will underpin music
education for the next century? (p. 217)
Alex is a professional composer-sound designer who
runs his own commercial studio in south Manchester. He works for
many major computer games manufacturers, national television,
radio and other commercial clients from a range of industries
throughout the world. Alex’s studio is full of various
pieces of technology, both old and new. It is centred on
Macintosh computers running Logic Audio linked to a large mixing
desk, numerous hardware and software synthesisers and samplers
including two Nord Modular. Alex takes great pride in his sound
library, a collection of over two terabytes of high quality
digital audio sample materials that he utilises in his projects.
Alex spends a considerable amount of time collecting these
sounds. He uses a range of very expensive microphones to capture
sounds from cars, tanks, planes, central heating pipes, pillows
or whatever captures his sonic imagination. These sounds are
edited and processed before being categorised in a complex
storage system and digitally archived on external hard disks.
Alex’s working practices have been carefully documented in
a recent resource designed to assist teachers in their teaching
about film music (for further details please visit
www.sound2picture.net). The
process by which he conceives and produces a musical composition
is a fascinating one, but beyond the scope of this article.
So what follows is a section from the final case
study report written about Alex. It is written in a personal
narrative and is accompanied by a selection of Alex’s
compositions drawn from a multimedia documentation of his working
practice (Walker, 2002). It is hoped that through reading about
Alex and listening to his music that readers will obtain a clear
picture of his work and associated working practice. The wider
significance of this for those involved in music education will
then be considered in the following discussion.
Compositional Openings...
Alex’s music has been a revelation to me.
Dark, moody, highly expressive and emotionally charged, it has
that indefinable quality that ensures it stands out and makes you
listen. It is entrancing and alluring. It beckons you into new
sonic landscapes where imagination and emotion can run free.
Being invited into Alex’s world has always been an
education. I have looked forward to my visits to his studio, to
hear about his current projects and to listen to his latest
musical ideas.
I meet Alex for the first time in 2002. I visit
him as part of my songwriting research project at his home in a
deprived part of South Manchester near Old Trafford, the
Manchester United football ground. As I arrive, I remember the
words of Stuart Hall, long time radio football
commentator—the “Theatre of Dreams” I think he
once called it. Strong coffee in hand, Alex leads me down the
narrow basement stairs to a large space, partitioned into three
areas by bookcases and pieces of equipment.
One space is devoted to recordings, thousands upon
thousands of CDs from music styles drawn from far and wide. Here
Bach rubs shoulders with Cage, Rachmaninov with Eminen, obscure
African songs with German lieder and everything in-between. I
feel humbled by the breadth of his knowledge about his massive
collection. He draws out CD after CD. “Have you heard of
this?” he says, “Or this?” All too often the
answer is no. Many of the artists and composers’ names are
unfamiliar and their music distant from my own listening. But I
recognise the complete set of Sibelius symphonies.
The second space is full of books (and more CDs). Many are
philosophical—discussing aspects of musical composition and
technology, the kind you would expect to see in a university
library. Contemporary fiction is here too, and books on other art
forms such as film, video art and photography.
The final space is the heart of Alex’s
creative existence, his theatre of dreams. Cosseted under a small
basement skylight, a dark and atmospheric space with a range of
ambient lighting, is the recording studio where his dreams become
reality. There is just space for the two of us, and his dog, to
settle down. Computers, synthesisers, samplers, a large mixing
desk and other pieces of technology old and new surround us. Many
of these pieces of equipment are fairly common in other studios.
But there is nothing common about Alex’s music or the story
of how he began to create it.
We start to talk. I suggest we go back to the
beginning. I presume that his music education started early? What
does he remember about music in his primary school?
I played the xylophone – briefly. I
remember the Headmaster having me in the school assembly playing
“God Save the Queen”. After that I just phased
out—I was 9 years old. I didn’t like the attention
from people and I found it too much—the attention of all
those faces watching me play that. Since then I’ve always
been very opposed to performing in front of people. I rarely do
gigs. (Alex, in interview, 2002)
Not the most positive of starts, I think. I move quickly on to
high school. Who was his high school music teacher? What does he
remember about him or her?
(11 seconds silence - ) I’m
struggling . . . I remember my history teacher very well. I had a
burning interest in history so I remember him very well. (five
seconds - ) Music—I mean—what they taught you was
Baroque and Bach, Mozart and Beethoven and completely lost on
kids. It’s such a refined poetry that, you know, these
composers who now I spend a lot of money collecting their stuff,
is lost on kids.
In fact, it turns out that the whole school experience was not
a positive one for Alex:
I was excluded from school when I was 15
years old. I’m 29 now and have hindsight on my side. I see
points that were causing the trouble. But I also think that there
were some elements at school that perhaps did “fail”
me. I think that one of the more important things that the
teachers could have done was recognise my passionate nature and
harness that, to bring out the best in me rather than put it to
one side and be lazy and just exclude me.
But I am still intrigued to know what he makes of his own
work. How does he define his unique studio practice? What does he
think musical composition is about? What is his definition of a
musician?
There are hundreds of examples. But from
someone whose has never been taught where the C note is, for me
composition starts with John Cage’s Silence and ends
with Rachmaninov. And in-between there’s a small child who
presses down a couple of notes on the keyboard or piano.
They’re a musician. … Of course their language is
underdeveloped but they have that potential to go from that
Cagian silence to Rachmaninov through practice and learning.
There’s no real defined point—you are a musician.
As our conversation draws to an end, Alex speaks in
quasi-religious terms about the “saving power” of
music in his life.
Music is—how can I describe it,
it’s so many things—it really has saved me from a
life that. . .its hard to explain. I grew up on an estate in
Edinburgh and I used to get in quite a lot of trouble. Music
saved me from a path that I could see leading to destruction and
for that I’m very grateful. So I tend to treat music as a
very good friend. It’s something that’s helped me to
communicate with people, to express myself. It’s a language
that you can relate to people from different nations. It
transcends limitations. (Alex, in interview, 2002)
Discussion
Alex encapsulates the problem in formal music
education today. He is unable to play a musical instrument in any
traditional sense, entirely self-taught as a composer but
successful commercially (writing music for television, film and
other digital media), highly articulate in his views of
others’ music and consumed by a commitment and passion for
his own. Yet here is someone for whom the world of formal music
education at best was a total irrelevance (and at worst it failed
him completely).
How can music education respond to the challenges
of new technology that have empowered Alex to become a successful
commercial composer yet without many of the so-called
“traditional” skills that I, as a music educator,
value and share with pupils through my teaching? Are other pupils
who have less passion than Alex being isolated and cast aside
through models of music education that are elitist and focussed
around traditional (i.e. Western) definitions of instrumental
performance, notation and composition?
Important steps have been taken to make the music
curriculum more widely accessible to those pupils perhaps not
seen as being “musical”, especially in respect of its
musical content. Green’s work on the inclusion of popular
musical styles (Green, 1988) has had a major impact in the United
Kingdom and it is now standard practice to find a range of
popular music in the curriculum. Similarly, world musical styles
have found a place due to the work done by many
ethnomusicologists working within education (Campbell, 2003;
Kwami 1989, 1996). But these changes in curriculum content have
not been matched by changes in pedagogy (Green, 2001, p.184).
Green’s recent work (2001) described what she defined as
the informal learning styles of popular musicians. Her
final chapter is titled “The formal and the informal:
Mutual reciprocity or a contradiction in terms?” Within the
chapter, she seeks to answer some key questions:
To what extent do the formal and informal
spheres of music education and learning exist in isolation from
and ignorance of each other? Do the two spheres involve
approaches that are irreconcilable, or do they complement each
other? If the latter, could they be developed in tandem, without
riding roughshod over the nature of either, in ways that would
benefit a larger proportion of children and young people? (Green,
2001, p.177)
My answers to these questions are: to a great
extent they are isolated; no – they are not irreconcilable;
and yes – they could be developed in tandem. So it is with
these questions in mind that I want to examine what Alex’s
story, drawn from the informal sphere, can teach those of us
seeking to educate pupils within the formal sphere of music
education. In reflecting on my meetings and interviews with Alex
over the last two years, I would like to discuss three important
applications for music education in the 21st
century:
- The importance of new technologies in empowering and
revolutionising musical practices;
- The need for curriculum aims and objectives to be
reconsidered;
- The potential for cross-disciplinary arts education in the
digital domain.
1. A Technological Revolution in Musical Practices
Firstly, I believe that Alex would not be the
composer he is today without his wholehearted embracing of the
technological revolution in musical production. By this I mean
that his musical practices, as a performer and composer, are
entirely dependent on his use of a range of music technologies.
These technologies cover the analogue and digital range, and
include the latest and most powerful personal computers as well
as vintage monophonic synthesisers and other pre-MIDI devices.
The range of technology is matched by his sophisticated and
flexible working practices within the studio environment. Alex is
not fixed in front of a computer screen. He is physically active
within the studio, darting from place to place, animated and
purposeful whilst tapping drum pads or setting patches, listening
intently to mixes whilst experimenting in an improvisatory manner
at his mixing desk. (Link to soundfile here). In
interview, Alex expresses strongly the need for this kind of
improvisatory play with technology:
It is often the case that you’ll get
happy accidents. The way to get happy accidents is to throw
things at each other and see if they work. And once you see that
certain things do work you’ll know that in the future you
can have these two elements working together. Experiment,
experiment, experiment and learn your craft. That’s what
it’s all about. (Alex in interview, 2004)
Alex is not dictated to by the pieces of
technology in his studio. Rather, he uses and abuses hardware and
software for his creative ends. The context of ideas that he
develops about a particular project and his broad aesthetic
awareness are all driving forces in his musical expressions
through the studio. In this sense, technologies have a formative
part to play in musical composition, something that Pierre
Schaeffer recognised many years ago:
The creative power of the machine. …
Machines suddenly are not content to retransmit what was given to
them; they have begun—as if of their own accord—to
make something. (Schaeffer, 1977, p. 168)
These machines for feeling allow humans to
see, to hear, to touch what his eyes could never have shown him,
his ears could never have made him hear, to touch what his hands
could never have let him touch. (Schaeffer, 1970, p. 92)
Alex’s musical instruments are his pieces of
technologies. He might not be able to play a keyboard or guitar
but he can certainly play his Nord Modular (a modular
synthesiser), mixing desk, TR707 drum machine and Logic Audio
music software. And, just like a composer or arranger working
within more traditional mediums, his choices of instrument are
vital factors in the processes of musical creation. The
characteristics of his instruments, whether they be
electronically generated signals or audio samples, interact with
a variety of musical and extra-musical factors to create his
innovative music:
In this sense, musical instruments are not
‘completed’ at the stage of design and manufacture,
but, rather, they are ‘made-over’ by musicians in the
process of making music. (Théberge, 1997, p.160)
What would a similar embracing of technology mean
for music education? It would not mean a complete scrapping of
the content and pedagogy of the current music curriculum. As I
have argued elsewhere (Savage, 2002), the concept of a discrete
electronic or computer music is based on a modernist ideology
that seeks to divide these musical styles from all previous or
contemporaneous genres:
Although there are certainly fundamental
differences between electronic or digital technologies and
acoustic instruments, such differences do not inevitably separate
them from the broader continuum of musical expression; only the
crudest technological determinism could support the argument that
musicians approach these new technologies without bringing with
them at least some of their own ‘accumulated
sensibilities’ with regards to music making.
(Théberge, 1997, p. 159)
Therefore, we do not need to replace what are the
many positive teaching strategies and excellent curriculum
content that are already in place. Rather, we need to build and
develop authentic models of ICT-mediated music education inspired
by and through the work of ICT “experts” like Alex.
Théberge’s suggestion that a piece of technology is,
in a sense, created or recreated by the user in the act of making
music is relevant to us as teachers and our pupils as learners.
We are all “consumers of technology” and our
“ability to define, at least partially, the meaning and use
of the technology is an essential assumption and theoretical
point of departure” for any truly creative work.
(Théberge, 1997, p.160)
Part of this wider definition of technological use
is the context of teaching and pedagogy within which these
technologies will be used. We should expect pupils to learn about
music with technologies in ways that are different to our
existing practices but we should not throw the baby out with the
proverbial bath water. It is not that traditional musical
concepts, forms and devices have had their day. Rather, it is a
reprioritising and reordering of what is important at any one
given moment in that particular educational context that
matters.
In this technological-enhanced musical context,
does it matter if a pupil cannot tell what the key signature of a
piece of music they have created is, or whether or not a
particular chord is in root position or first inversion? These
are contentious issues upon which educators would have a range of
opinions. The answer is that they may or may not matter,
depending on the wider context of that pupil’s work and the
development of their creative ideas at that particular moment. It
may be useful to them to consider aspects of tonality and
harmonic function as ways of developing their work. Equally, they
might be completely irrelevant and a meaningless distraction at
that particular time.
But does this really address the heart of the
issue? New technologies have allowed Alex to bypass some of these
concerns and focus on more direct expressive issues of musical
composition. But uncritical adoption of technology into the
classroom will not facilitate the change that is needed and allow
our pupils a similar experience. They will merely allow for the
continuation of things as they are. There is a need to think more
carefully about what we really believe a music curriculum should
achieve.
2. Rethinking Aims and Objectives
Alex’s experience of the formal music
curriculum was completely alien to his natural musical abilities
and inquisitive creative spirit. It failed to engage his emotion
or mind and left him to develop his own informal learning
environment. Many pupils with less passion and commitment would
have given up at this point and turned elsewhere. The aims of the
music curriculum that Alex experienced at school divorced him
from his innate abilities through poor teaching and insensitive
comments at a crucial stage of personal development.
As educators, our beliefs, desires and aspirations
about what is important in music education are key factors in
determining how we seek to fulfil those aims. For example,
introducing Year 7 pupils to sound processing technologies
(Savage & Challis, 2001) was driven by my belief that a more
deliberately hands-on, “sonic” approach to
composition within small groups could be of tremendous
educational value for all pupils.
The increased use of learning objectives or
outcomes has dominated recent educational reforms. The clear
definition by the teacher of what the pupils will learn, in
advance of a lesson, is now seen as a vital, unquestionable and
an integral part of their preparation. For teachers of the arts,
this has always been problematic. At a basic level, prescribing
the outcomes of an artistic activity takes away its sense of
discovery and creation. Pupils, in my experience, quickly realise
that their supposedly artistic activities follow a predetermined
pathway and seek to conform appropriately. Alternatively, and in
Eisner’s words,
In the arts and in subject matters where,
for example, novel or creative responses are desired, the
particular behaviours to be developed cannot easily be
identified. Here curriculum and instruction should yield
behaviours or products which are unpredictable. The end achieved
ought to be something of a surprise to both teacher and pupil.
(Eisner, 1985, p. 33)
One might ask how often we feel this element of
surprise that Eisner suggests should be accompanying the
processes and products of truly creative work in the classroom.
In my observations of Alex’s compositional processes, it is
clear that his work with new technologies is not easily
predictive or defined through simple learning statements. In many
cases his musical compositions are nurtured and developed through
a process of germinating and experimenting with ideas, trial and
error, choosing from multiple compositional possibilities and
pathways and constantly searching for appropriate, responsive
structural devices. None of these are easy to prescribe in
advance.
But Eisner’s notion of expressive outcomes
rather than expressive objectives seems eminently sensible and
map out a potential way forward. Expressive outcomes are
“the outcomes that students realise in the course of a
curriculum activity, whether or not they are the particular
outcomes sought” (Eisner, 2002, p. 161). At a basic level
this type of objective relates neatly with Alex’s
conjecture to “experiment, experiment,
experiment!”
A lot of things come down to experience really. For example,
choosing two sounds to work together. Often the case is, you
know, what will work together because you have a vast experience.
But if you are starting out the important thing is to
experiment and see what happens when you put two sounds
together. (Alex in interview, 2004)
3. Cross-disciplinary practice in the digital arts
One of the main features of Alex’s work is
the interplay between the aural and visual domain, in particular
that each can be used to reinforce the thinking, creative ideas,
potential and understanding of the other. This was evidenced in
the interview data where I was often struck by the strong visual
metaphors he employed to describe his working practice:
I feel that sound design is an area in which
you can either paint with very large strokes or very fine
strokes. You can go as deep as you like and put as much detail in
as required. Or you can just paint with broad strokes. (Alex in
interview, 2004)
Waters, in a helpful exploration and extension of this theme,
identifies the crux of the problem when related to formal
education:
New technologies form a seductive meeting
point for many previously separate arts practices. The generally
uncritical acceptance of new tools, for example, the profusion of
synthesisers in music classrooms, as a convenient means to the
continuation of old concepts have tended to mask some of the more
useful implications of the new technologies. (Waters, 1994, p.
28)
There is a need for us to facilitate a deeper
cross-disciplinary interchange within the “seductive
meeting point” of new technologies and use this to bridge
the gap between what are often disparate artistic practices
within our schools. Conceptually, this requires new and radical
redefinitions of a subject’s culture and working practices,
as well as a consideration of how these may relate to other parts
of the curriculum. Francis Dhomont, the French electroacoustic
music composer, summed it up like this:
We have more in common with the filmmaker or
the sculptor, the painter, with the plastic artist, than with the
traditional musician. I really have that feeling, even though my
origins are in traditional music. (Dhomont, 2002)
New technologies radically transform “the
arts” in ways that we are beginning to understand and apply
within education. Recent research evidence from ImpaCT2 noted
that it is a worthy goal to integrate ICT with subject learning
(Department for Education and Skills, 2002, p. 3). But
Alex’s work as a sound designer offers an exploration of
exciting new notions of artistic practice that integrate rich
mixes of subject learning within ICT. This could help us lead
music education towards a holistic model of artistic practice
mediated through the effective use of ICT rather that traditional
or pre-existing musical practice merely done with ICT.
The creative use of new technologies can resituate
musical practices within the world of the digital arts
(Sefton-Green, 1999). I am not suggesting that wholescale change
is necessary here, rather an acknowledgement that a
cross-disciplinary or multimedia approach to musical composition
may well engage and motivate pupils more successfully, as well as
facilitate the development of their broader creative skills. I
have certainly found this to be the case in the three case
studies contained within a new resource building on Alex’s
work, Sound2Picture, that have recently been completed in schools
across the north west of England (see www.sound2picture.net).
Conclusion
In 2003 Dylan Mills, also known as Dizzee Rascal,
was announced as the winner of the 2003 Mercury Music Prize. His
album, Boy in Da Corner, was released earlier to rave
reviews across the world. The album’s title was
autobiographical. It was about his expulsion from two high
schools in East London. In his words, “I’d been that
kid in the corner of the classroom, the street corner. I had my
back against the wall in general” (Ojumu, 2003, p. 48). In
a fascinating piece in The Observer, Mills discusses the
influence of his music teacher, Tim Smith, and the music
department on his work:
There were good facilities in the music
department, which is why I liked it and it was the only place in
the school that I actually wanted to be. I was in the back room
of the music department most of the time, working alone. I was
focused and I didn’t worry about what else was going on. I
played music as I’d always imagined hearing it in my
head.
School would have been pretty dead really
for me without music. Everything started there. I don’t
really class myself as a musician, I can make music but I’m
not the greatest technically.
I got on with Tim Smith from the start. He
just let me get on with things. I’m never going to forget
him. I’m not like that. (Ojumu, 2003, p.48)
And what does Tim Smith have to say about Dylan Mills and his
work?
I try to let students do what they want. I
aim to create an atmosphere where they feel safe and can
experiment. Dylan knew what he wanted to achieve and he worked
quickly. His music had a clear structure and pattern, an amazing
balance between rhythm, bass and melody.
I’m fortunate to teach arts—you
have a real opportunity to work closely with pupils. You can
develop a one-to-one relationship that is quite unique. (Ojumu,
2003, p.48)
Dylan and Tim’s story reflects what is
really important in music education today. The effective use of
technology depends on its application within the classroom, the
surrounding educational ethos and, above all, the quality of the
individual teacher and his or her relationships with the pupils.
Tim Smith managed to provide the time and space for Dylan Mills
to find his creative potential and express it through the medium
of technology.
Alex has inspired me to consider the changes that
new technologies can bring about in music education. His path
towards the fulfilment of his dreams was hard. The
“system” of school-based education put many obstacles
in his way. Formality and orthodoxy were, at times, his
invincible opponents. Yet his creative spirit won through. At 29,
he believes in himself as a musician and is still moving onwards
down his road of discovery.
Green’s questions regarding the relationship
between the “formal and informal spheres of music
education” are relevant here (Green, 2001, p. 177).
Embodied in the work of Alex, and demonstrated in the classroom
context in the working relationship between Dylan and Tim, is an
alternative vision of music education for the 21st
century. At its heart is the use of newtechnologies to provide
space and opportunity for the creation of authentic and novel
artistic work, to assist in the transcending cultural values and
to empower diversity of expression, to promote critical
reflection and go beyond first ways of looking and thinking in
the musical, visual and wider performance art domains.
Perhaps a music education that looks like this
would have engaged and motivated Alex’s creative spirit
earlier in his life? His passion for music and his determination
to be a composer was so strong that he has achieved many goals
anyway. But how will we address the needs of those thousands of
pupils in our schools with fewer opportunities, and less passion
or commitment to succeed? Surely they have a right to a first
class music education too?
I treat music as a very good friend.
It’s something that’s helped me to communicate with
people, to express myself. It’s a language that helps you
relate to people. It transcends limitations. (Alex, during
interview, 2003)
Notes
1.The composer’s name has been changed at his
request. He has read and given approval for this material to be
used here.
References
Cain, T. (2004). Theory, technology and the music curriculum,
British Journal of Music Education 21 (2), pp.
215–221.
Campbell, P. S. (2003). Teaching music globally:
Experiencing music, expressing culture. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Department for Education and Skills (DfES)(2002)
Pupils’ and teachers’ perceptions of ICT in
the home, school and community. London: DfES.
Dhomont, F. (2002). My cinema for the ears (DVD).
Bridge Records Inc.
Eisner, E. (1985). The art of educational evaluation: A
personal view. London & New York: The Falmer Press.
Eisner, E. (2002). The arts and the creation of mind.
New Haven & London: Yale University Press.
Green, L. (1988). Music on deaf ears: Musical meaning,
ideology and education. Manchester: Manchester University
Press.
Green, L. (2001). How popular musicians learn: A way ahead
for music education. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Kwami, R. (1989). African music, education and the
school curriculum. Unpublished Ph.D thesis, London University
Institute of Education.
Kwami, R. (1996). Music education in and for a multi-cultural
society. In Plummeridge, C. (ed.) Issues in Music Education
II, University of London: Institute of Education.
Mills, J. & Murray, A. (2000). Music technology inspected:
Good teaching in Key Stage 3, British Journal of Music
Education 17 (1), pp. 129-156.
Ojumu, A. (2003). Total respect, The Observer
21 October 2003, pp. 48-49.
Savage, J. & Challis, M. (2001). Dunwich revisited:
Collaborative composition and performance with new technologies,
British Journal of Music Education 18 (2), pp.
139-149.
Savage, J. (2002). New models for creative practice for music
technologies. In NAME How Are You Doing? Learning and
assessment in music. Matlock: National Association of Music
Educators (NAME).
Savage, J. (2003). Informal approaches to the development of
young people’s composition skills. Music Education
Research 5 (1), pp. 81-85.
Schaeffer, P. (1970). Machines à communiquer.
Paris: Editions du Seuil.
Schaeffer, P. (1977). De la musique concrète à la
musique même. La Revue Musicale Paris:
Richard-Masse.
Sefton-Green, J. (1999) (ed.). Young people, creativity and
new technologies: The challenge of the digital arts. London:
Routledge.
Théberge, P. (1997). Any sound you can imagine: Making
music/consuming technology. London: Wesleyan University
Press.
Walker, R. (2002). Case study, case records and multimedia.
Cambridge Journal of Education 32 (1), pp. 109-127.
Waters, S. (1994). Living without boundaries.
Bath: Bath College of Higher Education Press.
Webster, P. (2002). Computer-based technology in music
teaching and learning. In Colwell, R. & Richardson, C. (eds.)
The New Handbook of Research on Music Teaching and Learning: A
project of the Music Educators National Conference. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Young, M. (2003). The language of music. Contained in Yamaha
Kemble & Virtual Learning Environments Foundation. Found
Sound (CD-ROM). Retrieved 5 January 2005 from www.foundsound.org.
About the Author
Jonathan Savage is a Senior Lecturer in Music Education
at the Institute of Education, Manchester Metropolitan
University. Until 2001, he was Head of Music at Debenham High
School, an 11-16 comprehensive school in rural Suffolk in the
east of England. His main research interests lie in the field of
developing innovative uses of new technologies within the music
curriculum, particularly in promoting new approaches to
composition. He is co-author of a new resource introducing sound
design to the Key Stage 3 curriculum (www.sound2picture.net).
Email: j.savage@mmu.ac.uk
|
