The Curse of the BMus

Wrote this for an audition piece for the site The Lemon Life. Many have heard similar rants from me.

The question “What are you up to these days?” always comes at me in a terrifying, fashion, flying through the air and stabbing me in the duodenum. It’s like the opening line of a play I have seen a hundred times against my will. One question leads to another and eventually, the ugly truth emerges: I hold an Honors Bachelor of Music degree.

When you tell people you studied music in university you get a very unique sort of look in response. It’s a look that asks a thousand questions all at once. At first, it’s a blank, often open-mouthed stare that asks: Did he say “music”? What the heck is he talking about? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing. What is there to study about music that could take four years? More importantly, what kind of job does a music degree get you? Is it rude to ask that last question out loud? If this is a new acquaintance, the look mutates slightly as the grey matter ponders: What kind of a person studies music at University? And why am I talking to this person? As time passes – seconds of arresting awkwardness – the eyes take on a distant look and begin to blink rapidly as social etiquette ingrained into the subconscious of the polite forces the corners of the lips upward in a look that lands somewhere between anger and pain. Then, some other synapses fire and a painful, “OOHhhhh” emerges from still-parted lips. Those more familiar – friends, family, pets, etc.- simply smile knowingly: you’ve been “The Lost One” for some time now anyway.
I can’t say I’ve never been tempted to feign harbouring secret aspirations to become a doctor or an engineer – life would be so much easier! People understand (or think they understand) what these careers contribute to society. Deep down, I’m pretty sure most people think artists are selfish freeloaders, that we’re just too stubborn to get a real job. The rest probably think we’ll grow out of this “artist” phase and eventually go to teacher’s college like everyone else.

Studying any form of art at a university level, one comes to terms with this reality or one drops out and goes to college. No, studying music at university did not teach me how to build a house, cook, design a car or a bridge, project the flight path of an asteroid heading toward Earth, or any number of other tangibly useful skills that contribute to some traditional concept of economic or scientific progress. Don’t get me wrong; I honed skills: I learned how to play piano, how to write a paper, how to listen to music, how to write and orchestrate music. But more importantly, I feel prepared to answer the question, “Why?” Why build a house or learn to cook, or care about science or economics? In essence, why bother living at all? I would venture a guess that this is a universal question and although I don’t claim to have a universal answer, I have one that might interest people. In fact, I think the core of every artist’s work is their answer to this question. And for whatever reason – call it arrogance or stupidity – artists feel compelled to spread the word.

Whatever your idea of progress may be, sharing ideas is involved. Perspective is involved. If art is anything, it is a way of exchanging ideas about life. Music is non-representational – it doesn’t correspond directly to everyday experiences – but somehow it says something about life that words or pictures cannot. So the next time someone tells you they studied music, don’t stand there bewildered; ask them about the meaning of life. I would be willing to bet that they’ll say, “I don’t know. But here’s what I think…”