Eric Havelock's little book The Muse Learns to Write presents the dilemma that underlies all writing and reading. The act of writing causes non-linear events to appear linear. Non-linear thought seems, then, not relevant to "real" thought.

I can see how, in our approach to notated music, this has come to apply also to non-linear tone perception. The more I teach the more clearly I perceive the problem in terms of the many dimensions of tone.

Tone's linear aspect can be shown with standard notation on a staff. But every child will tell you that A is not "close to" G at all, while B is--indeed the octave G, apparently even farther away, is even closer. The child correctly perceives the resonant relationship between G and its overtones as closer than the proximity of the keys designated G and A on the piano.

The in and out of resonance is what causes music to come alive.

How much has your training conditioned you to deny that level of response to tone?

At yesterday's Acoustical Kaleidoscope people reacted with surprise at the idea that they might play some of the most miraculous pages of piano writing by Beethoven without necessarily having to play the entire composition. It's funny how ingrained the notion is that a piece of music has a necessary beginning, when it is most obviously not a narrative. In fact, I believe many musical structures are flashbacks.

I let my young students start wherever they wish: find a spot you can play and work around it. Its amazing how that illuminates structure.

As you have probably gathered by now, I am totally fascinated at how astute the untrained ear can be. I teach singing to "non-singers" by getting them to be sensitive to tunable and untunable intervals. Yesterday a complete novice demonstrated, instinctively how musica ficta works -- the sharps and flats not printed in the score of Renaissance vocal music, but known to represent the way the notes were actually tuned in practice. Such things knock my socks off.

Perhaps flawless virtuosity is, after all, a trap. It does not preclude being a thoughtful artist of great stature but it may be confusing to both critics and audience.

I am stunned by the excitement I have heard audiences express for virtuoso performances of the most vapid music. I am even more stunned by the failure of the New York press to cover one of the most significant musical events of recent years even though (?) or because (?) presented by one of the foremost virtuoso pianists of our time, Piotr Anderszewski.

Just within the past two days I have had conversations with several people from various sectors of the musical world on the subject of generic music composition and performance. Then last night I heard an informal performance by an accomplished musician; during a 45 minute set there was one song that conveyed convincing personal involvement. While grateful for that song I wonder what happens to that singer the rest of the time?

I am fascinated by vulnerability in the voice and in instrumental playing convinced that it is what makes some music truly great as opposed to routine.

The deeply personal connection I feel to the music of Ursula Mamlok is rooted in my reaction to a splendid bit of counterpoint approaching a cadence in the slow movement of her Woodwind Quintet. The performance by The Quintet of the Americas took place about 40 years ago in a public symposium, an event which permitted me to stand up and express my awe at its beauty. As it happened Ursula was in the back of the room. She stood up, declared that to be her "favorite cadence" though colleagues told her that is she wrote like that she "would never have a career." We have been friends ever since.

I was disappointed by a recent performance of the work by a different quintet who verticalized the composition, treating the approach harmonically rather than contrapuntally. The effect was totally lost.

With the visit to New York of Ursula Mamlok, still going strong at 87, I am reminded once more of how deeply personal the gift of music is. I am so moved that she found a way to give voice to her strong personality. The musicians who respond to that voice have been unafraid to recognize its power, some of them long before she has achieved the recognition she now enjoys and so richly deserves.