Non-Science Class Having Known Most

Non-Science Class

Having known most of my life that I would be a doctor, I normally did not cultivate an interest in the creative arts. The time and dedication required for creative pursuits would too easily rival the attention needed to pursue a medical career and in my case, pre-med studies. When I registered for the musical appreciation class I did so because I had an arts credit to fulfill before graduating. Like many of my pre-med friends, I entered the class skeptically but with nevertheless a genuine interest in music. I had heard before taking the course that music and math share in common a respect for number, form, and structure. Yet the professor brought to life musical theory in a way that no other music teacher I had in the past was able to do.

On the first day of class the professor played recordings of three different types of drumming, all of which revealed potentially infinite rhythmic permutations. To break down music to its essential components, to deconstruct music as we began to do that first day by listening to minimalist percussion tracks, proved enlightening. Recordings of African tribal chants, Appalachian bluegrass, Indian ragas, and Tuvan throat singing spawned my current fascination with world music and ethnomusicology.

During the duration of the semester we attended five live performances. The first, a female folk duo, failed to inspire me personally but with my newfound ears I could pick apart the songs structurally and apply what I learned in class to the songs they sang. Simple acoustic guitar and percussion instruments enhanced the haunting melodic voices and when the show was over I clapped enthusiastically with my classmates and the rest of the audience and later wrote an essay describing my reaction to the show. It was my first A in the course; the professor's approval bolstered my enthusiasm.

By the time the second concert came up, I felt like an old hat at understanding different genres of music but I had no idea how challenging the performance I was about to see would be. A Balinese gamelan ensemble from Los Angeles comprised of half Western and half Balinese musicians took my breath away but to analyze the show proved to be the most difficult class assignment the entire semester. For a student accustomed to listening to mainstream rock and pop, anything outside of a four/four meter sounded jarring. Trying to wrap my head around the complex rhythmic structure and near lack of melody made my brain feel like it was melting more than any biochemistry class came close to doing.

Western classical music concert piqued my interest in an art form I formerly felt was reserved mainly for seniors and snobs. Performing pieces by Beethoven, the orchestra included a grand piano and the deftness with which the pianist swept her fingers across the keys made me realize how all professions demand patience, careful repetition, and perfect practice. Even a creative art like music demands mental prowess; similarly, a scientific profession like medicine requires the development of physical and mental skills. Music and medicine seemingly share little in common. The musician's practice and the doctor's differ technically. We use different tolls and work with totally different media. Professional jargon differs too. Musicians perform; doctors don't. Musicians entertain; doctors heal.