Every once in a while during my high school and college years somebody would find out I played violin and make this cognitive leap: “Well you must love math, then! Because music is all numbers, isn’t it?” Well…I can’t argue that there are many aspects of music that are math-related—rhythm, scale degrees, the harmonic series, sound waves, music theory in general—but those things strike me as the mechanics of music. Numbers may be related, but to me, language is a much closer relative. And no, I don’t love math. I’ve grown to appreciate it, and I enjoy a certain satisfaction when the numbers all work out just so, but to this day, if you give me a word problem I will sort of want to smack you. (Just a little—I hate confrontation. But believe me, I will feel animosity.)
Music as language, though—that makes sense to me. And poetry—poetry is like the words to the music. Both are ways of seeing and sharing. Both use rhythm and sound, and both are attempts to get at the abstract through a concrete form. (How many times during a violin lesson have I been told, or have I told a student, “let this part sing,” “you’re telling a story,” “here comes the climax,” “this is just the introduction, don’t give it all away at once”?) As a teacher, as a performer, as an audience member, I approach music as language. Not as equations.