J. Lee Graham

Noble Baron [Humnab], what you did to learn music is one of many possible roads one may take. It's not the easiest, nor the best. You no doubt derived some enjoyment - and rightfully so - from the fact that you taught yourself everything you knew, even the very rudiments. I'm at a loss to say why learning theory should have stymied you, and indeed some others. All I can say is that when I was in a similar position, learning theory made music seem more like work, where before it had been mostly fun.

Theory is nothing but the codification of generations of practical compositional experience. We read "how-to" books on everything else, from cooking to auto repair. This is no different. You can take off into it flying by the seat of your pants...that's fine. I did it myself. The first couple of times I tried to study theory in middle school, I couldn't see the value of it. But at some point I began to see that despite all the fun I was having, my music lacked something in its blissful ignorance. It lacked whatever it was those composers who wrote "the rules" had learnt over the centuries, and I wanted what they had.

Once again: I'm not suggesting that everyone follow "the rules" all the time a la Aristote as they did in 17th Century drama, but I am saying that knowing what they are and how they're applied will inform everything you do in music from that time onward. The masters learnt through trial and error how to apply physical science, such as it was at the time, to what they were doing ("this works and that doesn't, so let's make a rule"), and understanding what they learnt, whether we actually use it or not, has a transforming effect. You yourself are supporting my argument by admitting that after your study of theory, your music improved in quality. It may not have come gushing out of you as it had before - my own output slowed down somewhat - but would you rather have quantity or quality?

The more I think of it, it seems to me that it's natural that untamed creative thought slows and falters a bit temporarily when the the deliberate, cogitative mind puts a bridle on it so that they may work together. If we work through it, the effects are quite temporary. Can anyone give an example of a composer whose study and understanding of music theory, applied or not, permanently ruined him as a composer?