A big thank you to every one who reads, comments upon, shares and contributes to this site
Wishing you a very happy and music-filled 2025
Frances
The Cross-Eyed Pianist

A big thank you to every one who reads, comments upon, shares and contributes to this site
Wishing you a very happy and music-filled 2025
Frances
The Cross-Eyed Pianist
Guest post by Julian Leeks, director of Sound World
Imagine a future in which it’s almost impossible for enthusiastic, musically gifted children to reach their potential. A future in which state education is completely devoid of music. A future in which the amateur choirs and orchestras that have flourished for decades in towns, cities and villages up and down the country, have all but vanished.
A future in which the music teachers, the freelance performers and the talented, dedicated amateurs who form the backbone of our country’s musical life, have all become endangered species. What would our musical culture look like then? Every aspect of music would be affected: from Friday night pub bands to the London Sinfonietta and from primary school nativities to Oscar winning films.
How would we fill the void left by the musicians? AI perhaps? The very thought makes me shudder. But we don’t really need to worry about that now, do we?
Well, it may be closer than you think.
At the risk of sounding like a prophet of doom, bellowing “The end is nigh!” at passers by, I believe we may be sleepwalking towards a future in which there are insufficient musicians and music teachers to sustain a viable musical culture. I’m concerned that the status of music has declined significantly in our increasingly visually oriented society. A society which values “output” and wealth generation above an inner life and well-being, and one in which decisions of consequence are made on the basis of quantitive data at the expense of qualitative understanding.
But where is the evidence to support this warning?
In deference to the prevailing trend, let’s start with the numbers.
Between 2007 and 2013, the number of pupils taking GCSE music has nearly halved. The decline is even steeper at A’Level where a disproportionate number of candidates are privately educated (28% and rising year on year), despite accounting for just 6% of the total school population. Research predicts that A’Level music will disappear from state schools completely by 2033. Just nine years from now.
The most recent ABRSM study reported the lowest ever number of children taking instrumental lessons since records began. Between 2014 and 2020 there has been a 15% decline in the number of children currently playing an instrument and an 11% decline in the number of those taking instrumental lessons. During the same period, the report reveals an increase in the amount of available work for music teachers, suggesting an even more marked decline in teacher numbers.
There has also been a very significant shift towards whole class teaching at the expense of individual lessons, artificially inflating the numbers recorded for overall participation. Data suggests that this method of teaching does not translate into children’s continuing interest in playing music.
So, those are the numbers and they don’t look good. But do they chime with our experience of the nation’s musical life today? Maybe not.
But while music might look and feel like it’s thriving, the wealth of bands, orchestras, concerts and gigs provides only a superficial sheen of good health. What we see today isn’t a predictor of our musical future its a reflection of our educational past. If we want to imagine the future of music we have to think about our educational present. And we’ve seen how that’s going.
Of course there are always a few, super-talented, autodidactic outliers, but the vast majority of working musicians, regardless of genre, had at least some input from a knowledgable, motivating music teacher. It’s how we pass on the wisdom of generations; virtual lessons via YouTube or elsewhere don’t come close.
So why isn’t everyone talking about this?
This kind of generational knock on effect is hard to perceive due to shifting baseline syndrome. For those unfamiliar with this idea it can be summed up as follows: every generation perceives its own experience as representing a normal or acceptable baseline against which subsequent change can be measured. But for each generation that follows the baseline may be quite different, meaning any further changes will be measured against quite different acceptable norms.
To bring it back to music and the numbers described above, if the trajectory continues unchecked for successive generations, even though no single generation will experience any sudden, dramatic loss of music, the outcome – the gradual, inexorable depletion of musical activity – is inevitable.
But even musicians might not be aware of this. Surrounded by musical activity both at work and in the home, whilst constantly meeting a wildly disproportionate number of musical children, their experience is totally at odds with the broader reality and may lead to a degree of complacency.
It may also be the case that a lot of musicians feel they’re doing enough already, just by being musicians. Understandably, they may not wish to become activists or campaigners. But increasingly, many are starting to think that simply being a musician is no longer enough. After all, if musicians won’t stand up for music, why would anyone else?
To return to my main theme, how long could we go on if the number of children learning music were to halve every 15 years or so (and by extension, the number of teachers available to teach each subsequent generation). I don’t know what the critical mass for musicians is, the point below which we really experience the loss of music as described in my opening paragraphs. But if current trends are allowed to continue it can’t be that far off. One generation? Two maybe?
And once it reaches that point the damage would take many decades to repair, even with the very best intentions of a government with very deep pockets.
Which is why, over the past year, we’ve been making A land without music? a podcast series about the value of music and what we can do to safeguard it for future generations.


It’s been a huge privilege to meet some wonderful guests for the series and their insightful and engaging contributions are what make the series; and it seems fitting to note that, as music education becomes evermore the preserve of a wealthy elite, hardly any of the musicians I spoke to came from what might be described as privileged backgrounds.
Unless, that is, we’re talking about a very different kind of privilege; the privilege of opportunity. It’s what gave them the chance to discover music and to grow that seed of discovery into a life-long, life-sustaining passion. Crucially, it was opportunity which was indifferent to the financial or social status of people’s parents. It was there for everyone.
Would they have had such opportunities had they been growing up today? Probably not. To quote Jess Gillam, “So much untapped potential, and so much untapped happiness.”

To listen to A land without music? on Apple Podcasts visit: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/a-land-without-music/id1773774272
Or search your favourite podcast platform
Statistical sources
Guest post by Karine Hetherington
With, ‘Variations’, pianist Joanna Kacperek has chosen to focus on the humble variation. Like many other composers before them and since, Beethoven, Robert and Clara Schumann, Brahms and Chopin, composed many variations. On this album, Kacperek artfully displays the creative possibilities of these variations, which were a way of exploring a theme for these composers, often not their own, and taking it to the next sublime level.

Variations have also been the means by which one composer honoured another. Thus, we hear Robert Schumann’s little-known variations, based on a theme by Beethoven, in this case, Beethoven’s Symphony no.7 and more precisely the Allegretto movement. To hear Beethoven’s solemn theme being repeatedly played and tweaked and then transformed by Schumann, is a thrill and gives the much-loved Beethoven melody a new mesmeric quality.
Clara Schumann’s variations meanwhile, celebrate the rich relationship (musical and emotional) she enjoyed with her husband, Robert. These intimate variations reveal every facet of their emotional life; joy, pain, yearning, eventually unfolding into a marvellous resolution where gratitude seems the overriding emotion.
Impressed by Kacperek’s debut album, Karine Hetherington from ArtMuseLondon went to interview this breakthrough artist.
Had you always planned to have a musical career and become a professional pianist?
Actually, yes! I started my private piano lessons at the age of 6. From the age of 7 onwards, I was educated in state music schools in Poland that are quite strict and take your musical development very seriously.
Of course all this wouldn’t’have happened without the support of my parents.
What led you to the idea of doing an album of musical variations? What does it bring to the listener?
I really love the idea of taking something really simple, like a 16-bar theme, and developing it in any way possible; I find it really exciting from both a pianistic and musical point of view. In a way, it feels like pushing the boundaries – how far can we go? How creative and expressive can we be, starting with such simple musical material?
The album started with my obsession with Clara Schumann’s Variations Op. 20 which she composed on her husband’s theme – I just knew this piece was special. The other thing that influenced this programming was my discovery of Robert Schumann’s Studies on a Theme by Beethoven – a composition that survived (thanks to Clara) and was not published during Robert’s life. It is such a tremendous set that deserves more spotlight! Then, I started adding other sets of variations that complemented the ones by the Schumanns – hence Beethoven Op. 34 (which links to Schumann-Beethoven Studies), and Brahms Op. 18b (the birthday present from Brahms to Clara Schumann).
Because all of the works I have mentioned had a personal story behind them, I decided to add Dutilleux’s Choral and Variations from his Sonata Op. 1 – the piece dedicated to, and premiered by his wife, concert pianist Genevieve Joy. Then – Cecile Chaminade’s Thème varié Op. 89 – a little gem, so rarely performed and recorded (my recording is only the 4th in the world!) showcasing yet another brilliant pianist-composer; finally Chopin – which is not only a nod towards my Polish roots, but at the same time it links to Dutilleux and Chaminade through their Paris residency.
Where are you performing next? What musical projects do you have in the pipeline?
2025 looks exciting. I have performances planned in France, Germany, the Netherlands, Poland, Ireland and of course in the UK. January will start with two performances in West London of Beethoven’s 3rd Piano Concerto with an incredible arrangement for a string quintet.
How do you relax?
Playing the piano can be a lonely profession, so to relax, I love being around people.I enjoy the gym and group fitness classes that involve cardio, boxing or dance. Apart from that – quiet evenings with my cat on my lap is also one of my favorite things.
Joanna Kacperek’s album Variations is available on the Rubicon label and via streaming
This article first appeared on The Cross-Eyed Pianist’s sister site ArtMuseLondon.com
(Artist photo by Paul Marc Mitchell)
Classical music is swathed in tradition and culturally conditioned thinking. The traditions of concert-going, for example, are well-known and show little sign of relaxing, despite the best efforts of more forward-thinking musicians, ensembles, concert managers and venues. Likewise, the score is regarded as the ‘sacred text’ of classical music wherein lies the composer’s ‘intentions’, and as such should be followed slavishly.
The musician’s training is still largely about preserving tradition and the reverential “canonization” of repertoire: for the pianist, the “greats” of our repertoire are of course Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Chopin, and the teaching of this music is littered with “shoulds” and “musts” and curious, long-held notions of what is deemed “authentic” or “correct” in our interpretation and performance of this music. Classical musicians are taught that there is, in general, one ‘proper’ performance of the score which honours the composer’s ‘intentions’. Anyone who steps outside what is considered to be the “norm” may be castigated for going against tradition, a maverick lacking respect, or simply “wrong”. (Paradoxically, musicians are also encouraged to be creative and individual, to offer audiences something different or unique.)
But where do these notions of tradition come from?
In fact, many of the attitudes and practices of classical music as we know them today were established not that long ago, during the Romantic period, when musicologists, teachers and some musicians and composers decided it was time to formalise the artform to ensure it was treated with due respect, alongside some serious, quasi-religious composer-worship. It is no accident that the setting down of these “rules” about how music should be interpreted and performed coincided with the advent of recording which allowed audiences and musicians to hear the music in a definitive performance multiple times. Today, recordings have a highly significant role in the upholding of tradition in the interpretation and performance of classical music.
The weight of tradition can be stifling as musicians strive to conform to it. Enshrined in teaching and performance practice, and policed by teachers, critics, academics and even listeners, tradition can exert extraordinary pressure on musicians. It’s often safer to follow tradition, to do things as they have always been done, because stepping outside the norm, defying tradition, may not always be well received by audiences, critics or concert promoters, and may lead to loss of work.
But there’s the counter argument to this, that tradition can inspire and motivate, that it is, to quote Gustav Mahler, “not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire”, and that by honouring or respecting traditions we keep the artform alive. Thus, the musician is like a conservator or gardener, nurturing the wisdom of the ages while also building upon it to create our own wisdom and knowledge for those who come next. Teachers in particular can have a significant role in this, passing down the wisdom from an earlier generation of pedagogues to the next generation.
Tradition can be a learning and research tool too, exactly because it is born out of an accumulation of wisdom. Musicians can refer back to earlier performance practice, for example, and use this to inform their own playing. In fact, in the traditions of performance practice, for example, each generation brings a slight shift in attitude and approach: exploring early recordings demonstrates this very clearly where familiar works are often played with a far greater flexibility of interpretation than we are used to now. The danger comes from regarding tradition as an absolute, without the imagination or creativity to explore alternatives.
Every performance today is a translation; a reconstruction of the original sound is the most misleading translation because it pretends to be the original, while the significance of the old sounds has irrevocably changed – Charles Rosen
The sounds and after sounds of great music never cease evolving – Michael Davidson (Mozart and the Pianist)

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