Leading Musically

Dag Jansson

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781138058781
• eBook ISBN: 9781351672801
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Music

Musical leadership is associated with a specific profession—the conductor—as well as being a colloquial metaphor for human communication and cooperation at its best. This book examines what musical leadership is, by delving into the choral conductor role, what goes on in the music-making moment and what it takes to do it well. One of the unique features of the musical ensemble is the simultaneity of collective discipline and individual expression. Music is therefore a potent laboratory for understanding the leadership act in the space between leader and team. The musical experience is used to shed light on leading and following more broadly, by linking it to themes such as authority, control, empowerment, intersubjectivity, sensemaking and charisma. Jansson develops the argument that musical leadership involves the combination of strong power and deep sensitivity, a blend that might be equally valid in other leadership domains. Aesthetic knowledge and musical perception therefore offer untapped potential for leadership and organisational development outside the art domain.

1 The muse within

The unity of psyche is paramount for concentrating the will and for survival. Those of our progenitors who could combine the advantages of differentiated language and knowledge with the unity of psyche and the ability to concentrate the will received survival benefits. The above considerations led to the following hypothesis: while part of the human voice evolved into language, acquired concrete semantics, and lost some of its emotionality, another part of the voice evolved into a less concretely semantic but powerfully emotional ability—toward music—helping to unify the split psyche.

(Perlovsky, 2013, pp. 1–2)

Musical organisation is not just any leadership domain. There is something about music—everybody relates to it and most people have their ‘own’ music. It matters. Still, hardly anyone can explain why music plays such an important role in human life. Not unlike being in love, music is common and ubiquitous, yet enigmatic. This chapter’s title is borrowed from Jon Roar Bjørkvold (1992), whose book tells the beautiful tale of music’s existential and developmental significance from cradle to grave—music, that is, as a defining feature of being a human being. From Pythagoras onwards, music has occupied philosophers and scientists well beyond what a merely pleasant pastime would merit—occupied them in an unending attempt to establish order in our understanding of the cosmos and the self.¹ The notion of a ‘music of the spheres’ has influenced theorists and composers through the ages, in its literal sense as well as its inspirational guises. The lingering hope is that music might help to prevent inner psychological chaos in the same way it keeps the planets in place. But even as the simplest models of the universe broke down—casualties of the scientific method—composers continued to seek ‘the perfect link between an astronomical subject and its musical commentary’ (Proust, 2011, p. 366), from Pink Floyd (in Eclipse) to modernists such as Karlheinz Stockhausen (in Tierkreiz) and John Cage (in Atlas Eclipticalis).

Nonetheless, the power of music remained as mysterious to Darwin as it had been to Aristotle, more than two millennia later. What philosophers and composers have pondered on a grand scale, mother and child are immersed in when sharing a simple lullaby—‘a resonant form and a precious and intimate dwelling on the threshold to sleep that has nothing to prove’ (Bonnàr, 2014, p. 350). Musical memory is more deeply embedded in us than other types of knowledge, as evidenced by how patients with dementia revive their early lives via the music they once knew (Clark & Harding, 2012). Music is likewise among the most powerful identity markers, defining and delimiting social groups, opinions and causes. Among the campaign videos in the 2017 U.S. presidential nomination process, Bernie Sanders’s video using Simon and Garfunkel’s America was found to be the advertisement that moved people the most.² Fused with rather nostalgic video footage, the song prompted disillusioned voters to identify with those before them who had ‘come to look for America’. The voting in the Eurovision Song Contest reveals enduring patterning and clear indications of cultural and geographical proximity,³ at times mixed with gestures of outright protest or embracement, depending upon the political situation in question. In spite of its significance, though, it may still be fruitless to define ‘music’: ‘We will either leave something out, or include a lot of noise’ (Ball, 2008, p. 162). At the same time, neurologists and evolutionary biologists increasingly acknowledge the human capacity for music as a necessary complement to language in human evolution in the interests of a unified psyche (Perlovsky, 2015). When people are engaging with music, they may not care in the least about scientific explanations for why they enjoy it. But when it comes to the scholarly investigation of the leading of people who make music, it is crucial to recognise and analyse the nature of music’s existential significance. Music as leadership domain might not be just like any other domain.

The importance of music is apparent not only in how we engage with music but also in how we make use of musical imagery when we speak about communication and cooperation in general. Our romance with music is reflected in our language. The pervasive derogatory English label ‘tone deaf’ was used by the New York Post to characterise the United Airlines boss who defended the company after staff physically dragged a passenger off a full flight to make room for an employee traveller.⁴ When the oil company Statoil awarded generous bonuses to employees during a time of large-scale layoffs, the action was called ‘unmusical’ by a member of parliament.⁵ Such labels are uniquely effective in dismissing someone thought to have behaved very inappropriately, exercised particularly poor judgment or performed as though completely disconnected with reality. In the Germanic languages, the expression Takt und Ton (measure and tone), while slightly outmoded, still describes appropriate social behaviour, and being out of touch—literally, tactless (Taktlos)—is considered ‘unmusical’.

Labelling someone ‘tone deaf’ or ‘unmusical’ leaves the accused with little recourse in a logic-driven response. The power of the labels does not derive from semantic precision but from the evocation of music itself, and its associated cultural power. The ‘musical’ always bears positive connotations, whatever the individual perspective on the issue at hand. Admiration for the musical is also explicit, for example, by concepts such as ‘harmony’ and ‘resonance’. When a message ‘resonates’ or sounds harmonious, it evokes music in general, and all the pleasures we bundle into it. More genre-specific versions of such labels include ‘it swings’ and ‘it rocks’, which signals that things are in their proper places, and we are somehow compelled to join the flow. We are ‘upbeat’ when all goes well. Executives ‘orchestrate’ change when transforming large organisations, and, in Italian, ‘to give the A’ (dare il la)—literally, to give the concert pitch (via the oboist or a tuning fork)—means to kick off an activity of some sort. In French, ‘to play from the same score’ (jouer la même partition), or the opposite, expresses the operative degree of cohesion.⁶

We have no reservations about joining ‘the musical’—it is a danger-free zone. In one of his letters,⁷ painter Vincent van Gogh wrote, rather sweepingly: ‘In the end we shall have had enough of cynicism, scepticism and humbug, and we shall want to live more musically’. Here, this condition implies an investment in faith, trust and sincerity, and music, in turn, represents the best sides of human nature. What’s more, a person who is not moved by music is not to be trusted—in the words of playwright William Shakespeare, such a person is in spirit ‘dull as night’ and ‘fit for treason, stratagem and spoils’.⁸

We indulge in a romance with music, and we are attracted by the musical, in its literal sense but also its figurative implications for error-free communication, elegant organisation and exquisite leadership. And now we have arrived at another romance as well—with leaders and leadership. There is an obsession with the great leader in the public discourse, which is nurtured by the media, biographical literature and even management education. Our romance also encompasses the concept of leadership, and the potency of leadership with regard to organisational outcomes is chronically overrated as well (Jermier & Kerr, 1997; Kerr & Jermier, 1978). ‘And there is every sign that the obsessions with and celebrations of it will persist’ (Meindl, Ehrlich, & Dukerich, 1985, p. 78). Despite decades of attempts to dethrone the leadership concept as the primary avenue to both understanding and improving an organisation, as well as to rethink the key questions involved in it (Ladkin, 2010), leadership is indeed a die-hard construct. In fact, the romanticised notion is, in itself, indicative of the needs of followers,⁹ where the mystery surrounding the leader role may contribute to the responsiveness of team members (Meindl et al., 1985). Simply put, we follow because we like the concept of leadership.

Given the double romance with music and leadership, it should come as no surprise that the omnipotent conductor is a readily recognised icon, target of parody and study object. The orchestra conductor, in particular, commands this influence, because the position involves much prestige and money—and it is male dominated. The conductor role sustains the puzzling duality of familiarity and elusiveness—everyone can mimic it, but very few know what it is about. The topic of this book, music and leadership, therefore offers an opportunity to confront two highly romanticised domains. This book marshals a scholarly line of reasoning to de-romanticise musical leadership, albeit with two quite different takes on its two components. After all, the romance with music springs out of substantial experience. We may investigate various types of music material, modes of engagement and related social functions, but, irrespective of the chosen angle, we cannot do away with the fact that we are dealing with music. While music may be an ‘ontological mutant’ (Tormey, 1974, p. 204), appearing in constantly shifting guises, it unequivocally exists.¹⁰

Leadership, on the other hand, is a purely social construction. In investigating it, we may find ourselves dissecting or moulding it, or even questioning the need for it, if the phenomena it seeks to encompass are better served by other constructs. It is also possible to speak about what we label as ‘leadership’ without using the word, as it can be investigated via a host of adjacent concepts, including, but not limited to, persuasion, inspiration, decision-making, coordination, compliance, power, influence and authority. The romance with leadership is therefore, at best, superficial; at worst, deceptive. At the same time, the presence of an actual leader is more difficult to deny, especially in the case of a designated central point of control, such as a conductor.

My project with this book is to explore what leading music involves, what it takes and how it manifests itself as ‘musical’, then to reapply the insights to the general domain of organisation and leadership. This will not entail the bulk exporting of frameworks from one domain to another. Instead, I will weave my strands of reasoning by allowing the scholarly domains to inform each other throughout. Having said that, it is my clear position that organisation studies and leadership theory have more to learn from the arts—and from music in particular—than the other way around. So, if the presentation at times seems balanced, my overall view remains quite skewed.

Leading music—leading musically

The term ‘musical leadership’ carries the double meaning of leading a musical activity and leading anything in a musical way. It is not a given that leading music always happens in a musical way, and there is an underlying assumption that leading musically is possible outside the music domain. Yet the two meanings refer to different aspects of leading. What is involved in leading a music ensemble is first and foremost a question of what is being led, and its antecedent, why it needs a leader. We address these questions with a specific subject matter in mind—that is, the mission here is music. Leading musically, on the other hand, is about enactment—it is a question of how to lead in a desirable way. Strikingly, the why question (and, therefore, the what question) has largely been neglected in leadership academia, in favour of the how.

Parallels and metaphors between music and leadership have been exploited in various ways, as they have between sports or games and leadership. Predictably, as well, such metaphors are frequently overused, and their usefulness (and insightfulness) dismissed as a fly-by-night fad.¹¹ Yet the search for understanding about how to lead in a musical way need not be constrained to the reapplication of insight via a purely metaphorical transfer of knowledge. We might instead broaden the notion of the ‘musical’ beyond the conceptual and discursive to include corporeal experience and tacit knowledge. In other words, we are not primarily seeking a way to speak about musical leadership but aspiring to locate experiential common ground than can in turn be articulated and conceptualised.

Leading ensemble music

As long as human beings have sung or played together, some sort of signalling and coordination has been required as well. The music-making act is, in itself, a dialogic game among its participants, which means, in turn, that the leaderless ensemble is as common as the ensemble with a designated leader. We use the term ‘conductor’ to denote the non-singing, non-playing single point of control over the ensemble, although a variety of hybrid situations exists. The function and appearance of the musical leader role has evolved over time, and, in the context of leadership, it is interesting to observe what has defined the role. To start with, the conductor has always added something to the music-making act which could not have been readily supplied elsewhere. As a manifestation of leadership, the conductor role has, in every phase of its evolution, remained tightly bound to the task at hand, thereby solidifying the connection between what leadership is and why it is needed.

Initially, in the absence of notated music, hand signals, or cheironomy, directed a singing ensemble, primarily by signalling the pitch. From ancient Egypt, there exists hieroglyphic documentation of hand movements to lead wind instruments, and, quite remarkably, the signalling used by Coptic church musicians today resembles drawings of hands which are 5,000 years old (du Quercy Ahrén, 2002, p. 37). ‘Guido’s hand’, named after the Italian music theorist Guido of Arezzo, refers to a system in the Middle Ages to indicate pitch and was the basis for what we today know as solmisation (‘do-re-mi’), as well as modern musical notation. With the advent of musical notation, which was initially a stylised graphing of hand movements, there was less need for cheironomy in turn.

With its complete disappearance by the thirteenth century, musical leadership dealt primarily with tempo and tactus, marked by a tapping fo...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of figures
• Preface
• 1 The muse within
• Part I: Enactment of musical leadership
• Part II: Developing artful leadership
• Part III: Agency and surrender
• Index