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Spirit of music nearly lost in result-oriented world
By Wang Yong |
May 11, 2011, Wednesday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
MUSIC as a maker of a noble mind has long been a lost art.
As they coax or coerce their children into fiddling on pianos or violins or whatever musical instrument, many Chinese "tiger parents" treat music as a skill solely to show off, rather than a step toward a life of sanctity.
It doesn't occur to such parents and children that music is the ultimate moulder of a beautiful mind, as Confucius saw it.
The philosopher said that while poems and rituals nurture one's mind, one is most enlightened through music.
In today's commercialized world, music has degenerated into a commodity that can be priced, bought and sold.
Music classes have mushroomed across China. Any teenage student can easily acquire a 10th grade certificate (the highest degree) for piano or violin or other instrument, if he or she pays enough tuition fees - without having to truly understand Chopin or Mozart or any other composer.
It's common to see Chinese kids crave a certificate more than an enlightened spirit in their rigid study of musical skills.
Xinmin Evening News reported on April 14 that many students in Shanghai understand nothing about the spirit of music although they easily obtain a 10th grade certificate.
Xinhua news agency warned last year that the nationwide struggle of students to grab a musical certificate runs counter to the idea of music as a shaper of a beautiful mind.
The People's Daily cautioned yesterday that formalism has found its way into every aspect of life in China today, including campus life where education should focus on character building, not test skills.
The obsession with test skills is even apparent when learning how to play the guqin, which produces the very kind of music Confucius saw fit for character building due to its unique evocation of man's love of nature and of each other.
Since 2009 when I started learning guqin, a seven-string Chinese zither that's the musical carrier of Confucian values of benevolence and balance, I've seen too many guqin classes set up across the nation for the sole purpose of making money in exchange for helping students get a certain certificate.
Cecilia Lindqvist, a Swedish sinologist and a guqin expert, wrote in her seminal book on the instrument in 2006 that China's graceful traditional culture was being lost as consumerism took hold.
She noted that both Confucius and Plato regarded music as a means to make a nation and its people benevolent and respectful. And they weren't talking about finger skills.
Indeed, when Confucius first learned guqin about 3,000 years ago, he once refused to move on to a new song even though his teacher politely suggested he had mastered the finger skills necessary to play more complicated tunes. Confucius simply said he didn't want to go on until he fully understood the saintly spirit of the song.
This saintly spirit is found in all classical guqin music but is possibly missing in other types of music like pop or rock'n roll.
Few teachers today would advise their students to cultivate a saintly spirit before learning guqin music, but master Liu Yang is an exception.
Born in 1957 into a family of guqin gurus, Liu lives in a simple house in an ancient lane in Yangzhou. I didn't know him until this past May Day holiday when I accompanied my niece to study guqin with him.
"To learn guqin well, you must first learn to be a great man," he told us amiably.
A great man he is indeed.
He was still recovering from major surgery, but he taught my niece how to understand and play a classic melody for many hours. He sweated while teaching.
He even wouldn't take a break when an old friend dropped by for a rare reunion. He asked his old pal to wait until he was finished teaching.
Devotion
It's rare to see such a devoted teacher in a musical class today. Many teachers charge for one hour but teach for only a few minutes, requiring you to take care of yourself for the rest of the class.
Devotion aside, master Liu excels in expressing the saintly spirit of guqin music like few others.
After the class, he played Ping Sha Luo Yan ("Wild Geese Over the Peaceful Beach"), a guqin song first documented in the 17th century to reflect a Confucian scholar's hope of being as graceful and as free as wild geese.
"That's one of the best versions of the song I've ever heard," my wife said. Indeed, Liu played it so well that only late master Guan Pinghu (1897 - 1967) had better described the resolute spirit of wild geese rising and falling on a clear autumn day.
Modern writer Che Qianzi once said that Guan's guqin music could bring the audience all the way to the Spring and Autumn period (about Confucius' time), and that listening to Guan's music was like drinking tea from a clay cup of that period.
Indeed, Guan represented the classical Chinese spirit so well through music that NASA sent a recording of his guqin song "Flowing Water" into space in 1977, along with certain other earth voices, in hope of possible communication with unknown species.
If Guan's music reflects Confucian character of the Spring and Autumn period, that is, resoluteness, I would say Liu's music represents the Confucian character all the way down from that period, that is, a balance of resoluteness with softness.
Music mirrors the mind.
Of the dozens of guqin players I've had the honor to hear, none conveyed the soft yet resolute spirit of wild geese like Guan and Liu did. All are skillful players, but all are not carriers of Confucian values.
As they coax or coerce their children into fiddling on pianos or violins or whatever musical instrument, many Chinese "tiger parents" treat music as a skill solely to show off, rather than a step toward a life of sanctity.
It doesn't occur to such parents and children that music is the ultimate moulder of a beautiful mind, as Confucius saw it.
The philosopher said that while poems and rituals nurture one's mind, one is most enlightened through music.
In today's commercialized world, music has degenerated into a commodity that can be priced, bought and sold.
Music classes have mushroomed across China. Any teenage student can easily acquire a 10th grade certificate (the highest degree) for piano or violin or other instrument, if he or she pays enough tuition fees - without having to truly understand Chopin or Mozart or any other composer.
It's common to see Chinese kids crave a certificate more than an enlightened spirit in their rigid study of musical skills.
Xinmin Evening News reported on April 14 that many students in Shanghai understand nothing about the spirit of music although they easily obtain a 10th grade certificate.
Xinhua news agency warned last year that the nationwide struggle of students to grab a musical certificate runs counter to the idea of music as a shaper of a beautiful mind.
The People's Daily cautioned yesterday that formalism has found its way into every aspect of life in China today, including campus life where education should focus on character building, not test skills.
The obsession with test skills is even apparent when learning how to play the guqin, which produces the very kind of music Confucius saw fit for character building due to its unique evocation of man's love of nature and of each other.
Since 2009 when I started learning guqin, a seven-string Chinese zither that's the musical carrier of Confucian values of benevolence and balance, I've seen too many guqin classes set up across the nation for the sole purpose of making money in exchange for helping students get a certain certificate.
Cecilia Lindqvist, a Swedish sinologist and a guqin expert, wrote in her seminal book on the instrument in 2006 that China's graceful traditional culture was being lost as consumerism took hold.
She noted that both Confucius and Plato regarded music as a means to make a nation and its people benevolent and respectful. And they weren't talking about finger skills.
Indeed, when Confucius first learned guqin about 3,000 years ago, he once refused to move on to a new song even though his teacher politely suggested he had mastered the finger skills necessary to play more complicated tunes. Confucius simply said he didn't want to go on until he fully understood the saintly spirit of the song.
This saintly spirit is found in all classical guqin music but is possibly missing in other types of music like pop or rock'n roll.
Few teachers today would advise their students to cultivate a saintly spirit before learning guqin music, but master Liu Yang is an exception.
Born in 1957 into a family of guqin gurus, Liu lives in a simple house in an ancient lane in Yangzhou. I didn't know him until this past May Day holiday when I accompanied my niece to study guqin with him.
"To learn guqin well, you must first learn to be a great man," he told us amiably.
A great man he is indeed.
He was still recovering from major surgery, but he taught my niece how to understand and play a classic melody for many hours. He sweated while teaching.
He even wouldn't take a break when an old friend dropped by for a rare reunion. He asked his old pal to wait until he was finished teaching.
Devotion
It's rare to see such a devoted teacher in a musical class today. Many teachers charge for one hour but teach for only a few minutes, requiring you to take care of yourself for the rest of the class.
Devotion aside, master Liu excels in expressing the saintly spirit of guqin music like few others.
After the class, he played Ping Sha Luo Yan ("Wild Geese Over the Peaceful Beach"), a guqin song first documented in the 17th century to reflect a Confucian scholar's hope of being as graceful and as free as wild geese.
"That's one of the best versions of the song I've ever heard," my wife said. Indeed, Liu played it so well that only late master Guan Pinghu (1897 - 1967) had better described the resolute spirit of wild geese rising and falling on a clear autumn day.
Modern writer Che Qianzi once said that Guan's guqin music could bring the audience all the way to the Spring and Autumn period (about Confucius' time), and that listening to Guan's music was like drinking tea from a clay cup of that period.
Indeed, Guan represented the classical Chinese spirit so well through music that NASA sent a recording of his guqin song "Flowing Water" into space in 1977, along with certain other earth voices, in hope of possible communication with unknown species.
If Guan's music reflects Confucian character of the Spring and Autumn period, that is, resoluteness, I would say Liu's music represents the Confucian character all the way down from that period, that is, a balance of resoluteness with softness.
Music mirrors the mind.
Of the dozens of guqin players I've had the honor to hear, none conveyed the soft yet resolute spirit of wild geese like Guan and Liu did. All are skillful players, but all are not carriers of Confucian values.
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