Abstract
The purpose of this study was to investigate participant involvement in community wind bands through the lens of organizational theory to inform the music education profession about community wind bands as an “expressive” voluntary association with potential for lifelong participation. Twenty-eight informants were drawn from three community wind bands in the United States and four community wind bands in Singapore. Overall, responses between U.S. and Singapore informants shared many commonalities. Informants from both countries desired musical opportunities that aligned with their interests (incentives and commitment), viewed their participation as defined largely by the ensemble-conductor relationship (formal structures), and preferred rehearsing and performing under the direction of a competent and respectful conductor (leadership and authority). The diversity of bands from which informants were drawn points to the importance of an environment that supports a range of interests for lifelong participation.
Keywords
The idea of community bands is spreading rapidly, and it is no longer possible to keep up with the number of new ventures in this field. (Goldman, 1961, p. 134) [Y]ou could join a community band, but in my experiences I’ve never really enjoyed those types of atmospheres. I did one last summer locally back home with me and my brother and a friend. . . . We walked in and we were three youngest kids in the room by at least 40 years, and we only played polka or an American march from the early 1900s, and that wasn’t our vibe. —College recreational musician asked about his musical future beyond graduation
Despite writers (e.g., Goldman, 1961; Hansen, 2005; Hazen & Hazen, 1987) who have documented an array of large music ensembles in the 19th and 20th centuries operating in the United States as “wind bands,” there has been a tendency in recent years to treat wind band activity as if all ensembles consisting of woodwind, brass, and percussion instruments exist and function for more or less the same reason(s). A flattened understanding of the nature of community wind band participation has not been aided by much of the research activity in this area (for a comprehensive review, see Rohwer, 2016); scholars, for the most part, have not investigated the subtle but important differences that exist within individual wind bands. Much extant scholarship, for example, does not acknowledge the important conceptual shift represented by the North Shore Concert Band and its emulators, the emergence of which helped pave the way for community wind bands grounded more in a “serious art music” ethos in the spirit of the Goldman Band than the received “town band” tradition. The paucity of scholarly attention to the diversity of aims, purposes, and activity of community wind bands may be attributable to researchers turning their focus in recent years toward New Horizons ensembles-groups that comprise, by definition, exclusively older adults.
Martin’s (1983) doctoral dissertation represents the first comprehensive, national study of community wind bands in the United States. Building off of Leonhard and House’s (1959) call for school music to affect out-of-school life, Martin observed the important potential of community wind bands: “[W]ithout their existence, the band program of the public schools can only provide, for most people, a closed-ended experience” (p. 1). Martin’s study continues to provide an important benchmark for both its conceptual and methodological rigor and its important baseline findings about why a band was founded, how conductors were chosen (58% were invited or auditioned), how many ensembles had audition requirements (38%), and the percentage of ensembles where members voted on band policies (75%).
Other national surveys of community wind bands have been conducted by Heintzelman (1988), Spencer (1996), and Raya (2017). Heintzelman classified bands into four categories (community, municipal, fraternal, college-connected) based on operation season, auditions, paid leadership and membership, length of existence, rehearsal location, source of library, and financial support. Notable among his findings is that the conductor’s importance to members was more utilitarian than motivational. Heintzelman was noncommittal on the question of the raison d’etre for community bands (i.e., for the community or for the members), suggesting the answer was “both” (p. 100). Like Heintzelman, Spencer grounded his concerns in an adult education framework, but he noted that Heintzelman’s study did not explore band members’ attitudes toward band organization, quality standards, membership priorities, repertoire, rehearsals, and performances. Spencer’s factor analysis revealed six main dimensions affecting motivation: intrinsic motivators (e.g., self-enhancement, social rewards, musical growth, leisure and recreational pursuits, and educational growth), organizational motivators, membership standards, repertoire/conductor, rehearsal/performances, and quality.
Raya (2017) investigated organizational and financial aspects of community wind bands, comparing the results to Martin’s (1983). Raya’s five-level classification scheme of bands based on their financial operations may be of limited interest to the field of music education, but of importance for this study is his finding that community wind bands have experienced a decrease in public funding support since the time of Martin’s study, a phenomenon that suggests community bands are trending away from being viewed as public cultural assets and service organizations and becoming more of a medium for individuals to continue their musical participation.
Studies of individual instrumental ensembles (e.g., Billaud, 2013; Rhoden, 2008; Wilhjelm, 1998) offer greater individual nuance in their insights than mass surveys but without an explicit comparative element. Closest to the aims of this study are Chiodo’s (1997) and Thaller’s (1999) investigations, which highlight differences among and between different ensembles and their members. Thaller’s description of individual ensemble profiles is one of the few examples in the literature where ensembles are described in terms of their distinct identities as socio-musical cultures and where bands are described in terms of their own goals and purposes. Thaller, however, was primarily interested in recruitment and retention issues. Chiodo’s comparison of a community orchestra and band is notable for its stages of commitment and analysis of primary and secondary benefits in conjunction with a participant’s occupational status.
Organizational Theory
Community wind bands can be considered what German sociologist, Max Weber, referred to as voluntary associations. As defined by Knoke and Prensky (1984), voluntary associations “are formally organized named groups, most of whose participants do not derive their livelihoods from the organizations’ activities, although a few positions may receive pay as staff or leaders” (p. 3). Weber’s original formulation focused on the more political, especially anti-authority aspects of voluntary associations. Subsequent scholarship has since distinguished between instrumental and expressive associations. Instrumental associations tend to function in service of an external goal or a community need or value, whereas expressive associations provide an outlet for participants to enact particular value or activity orientations, thereby providing “self-fulfillment or sociability of group members” (Glanville, 2004, p. 473; see, for e.g., Harris, 1998; Vosburgh, 1998). Community wind bands, while they may at times function as instrumental associations, are primarily expressive associations.
Although organizational theory is often used as a way of analyzing nonvoluntary business or bureaucratic organizations, where goals or needs are typically unambiguous, it can also provide a useful lens for generating insights into voluntary associations, such as community bands, where expressive needs and interests vary among participants. Knoke and Prensky (1984) provide what they described as five organizational characteristics of voluntary associations: incentive systems and participant commitment, formal structures, leadership and authority, environmental conditions, and organizational effectiveness. For the purposes of our analysis, we have adapted these but have subdivided incentive systems and participant commitment into separate categories. We summarize these characteristics in the following section.
Incentive Systems
Voluntary associations would not exist without the contributions of participants who consider the exchange of benefits between themselves and the collective. Organizational theory suggests that members employ rational choice: They continue with the association as long as the perceived benefits outweigh the perceived costs. Incentives, such as wages, that apply in other types of organizations are typically nonexistent or not highly salient in voluntary associations. Instead, incentives are usually normative (appealing to the values of participants) or affective (“interpersonal relations and the symbolic, emotion-laden attachments of persons to their groups”; Knoke & Prensky, 1984, p. 5).
Participant Commitment
Knoke and Prensky (1984) describe highly committed participants as those who are devoted to an organization’s aims and purposes and are passionate about furthering the objectives of the organization. Although related to incentives, insofar as incentives can be viewed as directly influencing commitment, in our data we noted differences between these two concepts in that commitment implies some form of sacrifice. As Knoke and Prensky explain, “Commitment directs a participant’s attention toward collective interests and welfare and away from individual pursuits” (p. 5).
Formal Structures
The formal structures of voluntary associations are distinguishable from the structures of nonvoluntary associations in that the latter are, in affinity with the military model, typically hierarchical. By contrast, in voluntary associations there is a “pervasive ideology of democratic participation,” something Knoke and Prensky (1984) point out acts as a “legitimating myth” (p. 8). In voluntary associations, “mutual self-regulation among participants” helps to sustain the belief in personal and organizational benefits (p. 8).
Leadership and Authority
Leadership in the context of voluntary associations is largely defined by managing incentives that motivate members to join and pursue collective goals (Knoke & Prensky, 1984). Knoke and Prensky (1984) argue that associations are the only kind of organizations defined by “amateur” leadership. Community wind bands, however, constitute a special case of voluntary associations where leadership and authority are concerned. While many groups have constitutions, bylaws, and executives that assist with the aims, purpose, and functioning of the ensemble as an entity, the main activity of the group is invariably in the hands of a conductor. Although there are rare exceptions, in most cases community wind band conductors possess professional credentials. The extent of the conductor’s authority, however, varies from group to group. Even in groups that lean in an authoritarian direction, the “democratic ideology” of voluntary associations usually places “severe restrictions on leaders’ autonomy to act without consulting or taking into account the interests and preferences of the membership” (Knoke & Prensky, 1984, p. 9).
Environmental Conditions
The dimension of environmental conditions usually refers to the competition that derives from the limited capacity of a given environment (Knoke & Prensky, 1984). Knoke and Prensky (1984) go on to summarize that “stable environments favor structural specialization, while turbulent environments favor generalist organizational forms” (p. 10). While aspects of this concept are seemingly more applicable to businesses and markets, expressive voluntary associations such as community wind bands can be understood through this lens to the extent that a stable or expanding musical ecology of wind musicians in a given geographic area can support a greater number of groups meeting a finer gradation of specialized performance interests.
Organizational Effectiveness
Very simply, effectiveness is defined in terms of goal attainment (Knoke & Prensky, 1984). In the case of expressive voluntary associations, goals are typically “satisfying members’ demands for services” (p. 12), although there is a secondary aspect of “achieving recognition and legitimacy from the public and community elites” (p. 13). In terms of community wind bands, effectiveness illuminates differences in how individuals understand the goals of the ensemble and how the ensemble is perceived by others.
Implications for Music Education
From the standpoint of music education, one of the intriguing issues raised by organizational theory and voluntary organizations is the degree of homogeneity in expressive organizations such as community wind bands. If, for example, variations exist between groups in terms of their incentive systems and participant commitment, formal structures, leadership and authority, environmental conditions, and organizational effectiveness within a given cultural context, what might be revealed by examining the same types of voluntary organizations (i.e., community wind bands) as they exist in different cultural contexts? What about community wind bands as expressive organizations is universal, and what is situated, for example, and what might the answers to such questions imply for music education practices, especially those oriented toward lifelong participation in music?
The Community Band in Singapore
Singapore is a Southeast Asian city-state with a multiracial population that includes Chinese (74.3%), Malay (13.4%), and Indian (9%) (Singapore Department of Statistics, 2017). Originally a fishing village located at the tip of the Malay Peninsula, it became a British colony in 1819, during which time Western-style wind bands began to play key roles in the social life of the British and European communities (Cameron, 1965). After it achieved independence in 1965, founding Prime Minister Lee Kwan Yew launched the school band project (Dairianathan, 2006; Tan, 2012), which in turn led to the proliferation of bands in schools. In 1990, then Senior Minister of State for Education Tay Eng Soon noted the importance of forming community bands to allow students to continue making music in large ensembles beyond their school years, leading to the establishment of several community bands. Community bands in Singapore continue to be active and thrive today; they not only perform locally but represent the nation in international festivals such as the World Music Contest in Kerkrade, Holland (Tan & Cain, 2018).
Purpose and Questions
Efforts to foster lifelong participation in and through wind band participation can be aided with a better understanding of community bands as a form of expressive association. The purpose of this study was to investigate participant involvement with selected community wind bands through the lens of organizational theory to better inform the music education profession about community wind bands as an expressive voluntary association with potential for lifelong participation. Cross-cultural comparisons provided the opportunity to glean insights about the universality and particularity of various aspects of wind band participation. Our primary research question was: How do members from selected community wind bands understand and rationalize their participation? Our secondary question was: In what ways do American and Singaporean participants compare and contrast in their responses to the interview questions?
Method
Selected wind bands in the United States (USA) were groups operating in the metropolitan area of the first author’s residence at the time of the study. Following the organizational theory framework, ensembles were identified from Internet searches based on the principle of maximum variation sampling (Patton, 2002) to increase the likelihood of identifying similarities and differences in the local community band world. This sampling strategy was employed to select wind bands that appeared, based on website inspection, to differ markedly according to group history, mission, repertoire, and performance venues. This ultimately yielded four groups to contact. Initial telephone conversations with ensemble representatives listed online resulted in three invitations for a face-to-face solicitation for volunteers at the ensembles’ subsequent rehearsals. During this in-person encounter, the first author briefly explained the purpose of the study and left business cards for anyone who was interested in following up with a face-to-face interview. Although 21 individuals volunteered for interviews, only 15 could be accommodated within the timeframe of the data collection period. The 15 volunteers represented the three ensembles, to be known henceforth as Bands A, B, and C. Although observations were not an explicit part of the research design, the first author attended at least one rehearsal and one performance of each ensemble to better contextualize the responses of informants.
Informants from bands in Singapore were recruited from the second author’s list of personal contacts. Twenty community band musicians were invited for the study, with 13 from four different community bands (henceforth to be known as Bands D, E, F, and G) eventually taking part. All bands were similar in performing standards and regularly perform a mixture of serious and entertainment literature. As with the first author, the second author was familiar with the rehearsal and performance practices of each ensemble.
The interview protocol (see Appendix 1 in the online version of the article) was developed jointly between the two authors based on a review of the literature and the theoretical framework. The protocol included questions intended to generate data on personal background, motivations, attitudes about their current musical participation and desires for the future, evaluations of their ensemble’s organizational functioning and its musical leadership, and general views on lifestyle. Although grounded in an organizational theory framework, the protocol was designed to solicit responses that reflected personal interests related to their subjective participation experiences rather than evaluative assessments of themselves and others.
All interviews were conducted in English, occurred at times and places of mutual convenience, and were digitally audio recorded. Interviews were one-time events, with most lasting approximately one hour. The order of questions varied as we allowed the interviews to unfold as naturally and conversationally as possible. Our qualitative approach can be considered phenomenological in that we were interested in the lived experiences of the informants. We transcribed and analyzed the interviews independently using first cycle In Vivo and descriptive coding (Saldaña, 2009). Coded segments were then pasted in a Google spreadsheet, where we jointly analyzed, via Skype, the segments in light of the theoretical framework.
Overall, ages of the USA sample were as follows: 20s (n = 2), 30s (n = 0), 40s (n = 1), 50s (n = 4), 60s (n = 2), 70s (n = 3), and 80s (n = 3). Gender breakdown was eight males, seven females. Racial breakdown was 14 white, 1 Asian American. Ages of the Singapore (SG) sample were as follows: 20s (n = 7), 30s (n = 4), and 40s (n = 2). Gender breakdown was eight males, five females. All SG informants were ethnic Chinese. All USA informants had learned or participated in school music, but only one had taken private lessons on their instrument (three had taken piano lessons in their childhood). All SG informants had participated in school music, and seven had taken private lessons on their instruments (eight had taken piano lessons in their formative years). Among the USA sample, there were 10 woodwind players, 4 brass players, and 1 percussion player. Among the SG sample, there were 10 woodwind players and 3 brass players. Twelve mentioned having at least one parent with musical experience and interest. Notably, 13 of 15 USA informants were originally from out of state, and 11 of 15 had graduate degrees. Among the SG informants, only 1 of 13 was originally from out of the city-state, and 5 of 13 had graduate degrees. Years of lapsed participation between initial learning and resuming playing in a community band among the USA informants were 0 (n = 3), less than 10 (n = 3), 15 to 20 (n = 4), 25 (n = 1), 40 (n = 2), 49 (n = 1). Lapsed participation among SG informants was negligible or nonexistent.
Analysis
For clarity, we have separated the analysis according to the organizational theory framework of Knoke and Prensky (1984): incentive systems (rational choice), participant commitment (sacrifice), formal structures (democratic participation), leadership and authority (leaders’ autonomy), environmental conditions (competition), and organizational effectiveness (goal attainment).
Incentive Systems
Three main themes stood out in terms of incentive systems (i.e., values of participants and attachments to their group): social rewards, self-interest, and aspirations. A range of responses emerged among the USA informants when asked about the social aspects of their band and if their participation was more about themselves or the group. Several mentioned being Facebook friends, and most acknowledged the importance of socialization at rehearsals. Outside of what might occur during rehearsals, socialization was relatively rare, something one informant noted should not be interpreted as unusual: “I don’t socialize with people at work outside of work either.” Some noted that a few band members socialized outside of band, and band friendships were described by three informants as very important (e.g., “They are my surrogate family here”), but for the rest, participation was primarily about their own music-making. As one put it, “Give me 80 other players that play just like these I could move over to that group.”
Among the Singapore informants, several noted that participation was more about the group than themselves (e.g., “I believe it is more about the group”; “As a band, we should work as a team and reach for a common goal”). Although some emphasized the importance of their own music-making (“I will say more music”), one informant noted that he initially participated because of the music but “over time as we grew together, it’s the people.” There were participants who seemed to value both equally (e.g., “My participation is equal part about the music and people”) as well as nuanced views that did not construe matters in terms of either–or (e.g., “It is never wholly about the music or about the people. The people make the music and are just as important as the music”).
Although subtle, a distinction could be discerned among the USA informants between those who were retired, who usually resumed their musical activities after a long period of lapsed participation, and the nonretirees. For the nonretirees, community band activity was a way to maintain their musical skills and provide a leisure alternative to their work lives (e.g., “It’s my hobby,” “It’s a break from all the quantitative stuff [of my job]; it keeps me sane”). For several of the retirees, on the other hand, wind band participation was about fulfilling personal desires and interests (e.g., “It’s a denial to always say it’s just about the group; I’m selfish about: if it’s not fulfilling my needs, why be there? It has to meet your personal needs”). Notably, however, the more hedonic responses came from members of Bands B and C. Band A members tended to highlight aspects serving the band rather than having the band serve them.
Only two USA informants referenced learning aspects involved with participation (“One thing I like is that, because I don’t have the background, I learn about music through being in the band”; “To me every rehearsal is a learning experience. But I’m an academic; everything to me is a learning experience”). By contrast, several Singapore informants talked about the learning associated with community band participation (e.g., “I would describe it as an avenue for growth and learning”; “I enjoyed playing and learning from the experienced players in this group, some of whom are very proficient players”; “I find myself learning much more through exposure to the vastly different repertoire that I would not otherwise get the chance to play”).
In both countries, the importance of performing for an audience was prevalent. For slightly over half of the USA informants, performing was stressed as a central aspect of participation, with one informant going so far as to assert, “The group would cut down to half if we didn’t perform.” Among the Singapore informants, most were explicit in emphasizing the importance of performing (e.g., “Having a performance is a must for me”), with several also saying that they would leave if their ensembles did not perform (e.g., “If the group existed to rehearse and never perform, then I would reconsider spending my time there”). One participant who did not seem to view performing as being particularly important came from Band F. He seemed to value, in particular, making music with people with whom he felt comfortable.
Closely connected with their performing interests were the informants’ opinions on repertoire. This brought out some inconsistent responses among the USA informants. One, for example, remarked, “It is pretty important to play repertoire you like,” but when asked if he wanted to have a say in repertoire choices he replied, “no.” This was echoed by others who believed that repertoire selection was mainly a conductor’s responsibility. The conductor, however, was expected to select music “according to the interests of the band.” Asked what they would do if the band consistently performed repertoire they did not like, two USA informants didn’t hesitate before answering that they would look for another band.
Singapore informants also deferred repertoire choices to the conductor (e.g., “It is more important for the director to choose pieces that are deemed ‘best’ for the ensemble”; “The music director should set the vision, direction and branding of the band”). As a saxophone player from Band D noted, “So while the opinion of each member counts, the group as a collective should decide” on the repertoire, further noting that “since a musical director is a qualified person, he could take the lead.” Notwithstanding a general consensus to defer to the conductor in the name of collective interests, informants noted the importance of having “something for everybody” and for the conductor to remain “open for repertoire suggestions.”
One of our questions asked informants about the importance of the musical level of the group for their participation. The USA responses largely aligned with the nature of the individual bands from which the informants were drawn. Members from B and C, for example, spoke with pride about the musical level of their group and how important this was to them. Members from Band C, who had “tried out” other community wind bands, made comments such as “I wanted a more serious experience,” “I wanted better musicianship,” and “I tried some below my level.” One Band C member remarked, somewhat disparagingly, “[Band B] is mostly a social group; they don’t dedicate a lot of time to music; it’s basically a reading band.” Bands A and B members, by contrast, seemed content with the performance levels of their groups, saying things like, “The band has never been bad enough for me to drop out,” “No one has left [Band A] because of the level of the group,” and “[Band B] is more of a pops band, which is what I discovered is what I like.” Almost all informants, however, acknowledged that within their groups there were members who wished their bands were better. As a Band A member put it, “I get the sense that a group in [Band A] wants to be better: a better class of music.” On the aspirations of those within his group who desired higher performance goals, one Band B member reflected, “It might go that way, but I hope not: [Band C] is so overstructured that our band would lose the fun element.”
Several Singapore informants felt that the musical level of the group was crucial to their continued participation, with a number of particularly emphatic responses (e.g., “Most important”; “Very, in fact, the greatest importance! That’s what keeps this group going, I believe”; “It is the reason for me joining them”). As an engineer from Band D put it, “As I’m not a full-time musician, it is important for me in as far as it keeps me musically engaged and satisfied.” A few accorded less weight to the importance of performance quality (e.g., “fairly important”; “moderately high”), while one informant from band E noted that “as long as there is a chance to be playing and making music, I am satisfied.”
Participant Commitment
To the extent commitment is defined according to subjugating personal interests to those of the group, the expressed self-interests of USA informants suggest that overall commitment to a particular band is not overly high. This is not to imply a lack of personal investment in their music-making or that participants do not take their responsibilities seriously. Likely due to self-selection, several of those who volunteered for this study had served in executive capacities with their respective groups. As one informant put it, “When I join an organization I always go ‘whole hog’; I was treasurer, grant writer, jack of all trades for the group.” For most of those interviewed from Bands B and C, however, personal interests came before those of the group. Although we did not ask specifically about commitment, the topic arose for three Band A informants, who said things like, “We made a commitment to [Band A]; it’s a big part of our life” and “I’m committed to this band; I really like this band.” Another Band A member pridefully remarked on how the group had over 30 “longtime members” with a minimum of 10 to 15 years’ service and how some of the “seasonal” members of the group always stick around to fulfill their performance commitments with the band.
Among the Singapore informants, there appeared to be a range of commitment to their bands. At one end of the spectrum were those who were “die-hard” members of their ensembles, such as a tuba player from Band D who noted that “the close ties and friendships” and “the quality of musical and artistic leadership were the two chief reasons that kept my commitment and membership.” Another informant was similarly dedicated to the group because “all the musicians work hard to make every performance as excellent as possible,” while another of his peers who had been with Band D for 14 years expressed that participation in the group “has become a habit.” At the other end of the spectrum were those who prioritized individual interests over commitment to their respective bands, such as one from Band E who noted, “Though music is a passion, I should be putting slightly more effort in my education and my future career.”
Formal Structures
Organizational structures of community wind bands are inextricably linked to issues of leadership and authority. The conductor of a community wind band is not, in most cases, directly comparable to the conductor of most institutionally based wind bands in that the community ensemble can, in cases of dissatisfaction, replace the conductor. One of the crucial defining features of bands was the extent of ensemble ownership. Although each had a formal constitution and bylaws and each conductor officially worked for the band, it was clear from the interviews that Band C was de facto the conductor’s band—in part due to that individual being the original and only conductor the band had had. In Bands A and B, the conductor was explicitly considered an employee of the band. As a result, the conductor was viewed as accountable to the ensemble and the individual members of the group (“In our group the conductor serves at the pleasure of the band”). Despite this distinction, however, all informants responded with a combination of deference and expectation to the role of the conductor.
One of our questions was about the degree of input individuals wished to have in the running of the group. We extended this question to also ask about musical decision making (e.g., phrasing and interpretation). Given some of the democratic claims made in the name of large ensembles, we were surprised by the lack of desire for musical agency among the USA informants. Responses were remarkably consistent (e.g., “Musical decisions? No, I leave that up to the director”; “Musical interpretation? I would let the conductor have full reign there”; “I don’t need to have a say in musical decisions; the conductor needs to do that”). Some participants rationalized their capitulation to the conductor by explaining how large groups require deference to a leader, for example, “If you are going to do something together with more than one voice, you need to have a structure that allows this”; “You’ve got 70 people out there; it can’t be a democracy”; “Too many cooks in the kitchen spoils it”; “I hope other band members realize you have to let the director do his job in order for it to be effective. . . . There are rules!”
Among the USA informants, the consensus was that the conductor had a contractual obligation to ensure the ensemble was achieving the implicit or explicit mandate of the group members. This contractual relationship thereby absolved the participants of having to make decisions and deal with the consequences of those decisions (e.g., “I don’t want to tell someone they’re wrong; I want the conductor to do it”; “It’s the director’s job to tell me what to do”; “I am always willing to submit to the director; that’s his job”). Although none of the groups involved with this study had, to our knowledge, fixed terms of office for the conductor, the role of conductor was compared by one informant as analogous to a presidential election in a democracy, whereby the group, having made its choice, had to accept the outcome of their hiring decision. A member from another band employed a sports analogy that spoke to the precarious power dynamic between conductor and ensemble: “When the team stinks, you don’t fire the players, you fire the coach. The director is our coach.”
Among the Singapore informants, however, there appeared to be a wider range of responses about the degree of input individuals wished to have in the running of the group. For some, although the final decision rests on the conductor, the views of the ensemble musicians may be solicited (e.g., “Members should respect the conductor’s professionalism, but members could definitely provide feedback”; “When opinions are brought up during rehearsals with regards to musical decisions, there is a fair bit of room given for discussion before coming to a finalized decision”). Some players felt that they were given sufficient room to express themselves but added that when individual interpretations differed too much, they readily deferred to the conductor (e.g., “Usually we just play how we feel it should be like until the conductor tells us otherwise”).
A minority of Singapore informants preferred greater musical agency (e.g., “The individual players also have their own interpretations of the music”; “The conductor does not dictate everything, nor should he”). As one from Band D put it, “I believe that we should have the freedom to express our own interpretation. If our interpretation sounds wrong, our Section Leader will tell us a better way to play that phrase.” Though hierarchical, the informant nonetheless saw the music-making decision process as one where multiple parties are involved, stating further, “I do not believe that the conductor should dictate every single musical decision.”
Leadership and Authority
While all informants from the USA acquiesced to the expertise of the conductor where matters of rehearsing (and to a lesser degree, repertoire selection) were concerned, there were also expressions that emphasized how members of a community ensemble needed to be treated respectfully. While we did note band-by-band differences in the nature of the relationship between players and conductor, overall responses were consistent in to our prompt to “describe your ideal conductor.” By far the most important characteristic of USA informants’ ideal conductor was musical/directing competence (e.g., “An ideal conductor is someone who is competent”; “He’s got to know his business”; “They know what they want”; “someone with a clear beat”; etc.). To our surprise, the overwhelming majority of USA informants preferred a conductor with an authoritarian style: “someone who . . . has power over the group and won’t let them talk”; “I’d be fine with a clear, expressive tyrant”; “In my experience the director leans towards the dictatorship, which is probably better.” This, however, was typically tempered with comments that, either contradictorily or paradoxically, spoke to the importance of treating group members respectfully within the context of a community band (e.g., “An ideal conductor is kind in their corrections”; “Once everyone is an adult, it should not be a dictatorship”; “They have to be positive and respectful in the way they direct change in adults, not yell or belittle them”; “An ideal conductor recognizes that we are amateurs and that we’re doing the best we can”). Overall, the USA informant comments point to a belief that what matters most in community wind band leadership is that the conductor ensures the ensemble maximizes its musical potential as efficiently as possible while maintaining the respect of the group members.
As with the USA informants, it appeared that the most important characteristic of Singapore informants’ ideal conductor was musical/directing competence (e.g., “the ability to bring out a piece of music through expressive conducting gestures,” “musical, able to express and direct well,” etc.). Furthermore, the ideal conductor was described as one who “prioritizes artistry, music-making, and the connecting individuals over technical details or imperfections” and works “not only on music, but also intonation and fundamentals.” Unlike the USA informants, however, while participants noted the need for conductors to set “high expectations” and be “firm and confident,” there were no clear preferences for an authoritarian style. Although some leaned toward a clearly top-down approach (e.g., “It will be a challenge if there are to be too many voices making musical decisions”), there were also participants who expressed an outright disdain toward blatant dictatorship (e.g., “Gone are the days where conductors are dictators”; “I do not believe in dictatorship, that is so old-fashioned. It never works, or it works only to a limited extent”). As one participant put it, “It’s a voluntary organization after all,” and there is nothing to stop people who “feel like minions” from leaving and finding a place that “better suits their preferences and desires.”
Environmental Conditions
One American ensemble in this study was an original town band, one of the only wind bands in existence (“the only game in town”) when a couple of the informants first started playing with them in 1968. The local wind band landscape has since changed dramatically. Based on the number and diversity of groups identified, the USA ensembles in this study would appear to operate in a fertile environment for community wind band activity. We heard several stories such as “When we relocated here I just searched on the Internet and found [Band C]”; “I thought I’d have to find a band; I just looked on the [Association of Concert Bands] website and found [Band B].” If anything, the groups were suffering from their own success. Members from all three bands expressed concern that their ensembles were beyond capacity (70–100 members each; with a large wait list) based on their available rehearsal space.
There was a consistent theme among USA informants about finding a band that provided a good match for one’s interests, for example, “You have to find groups that are a good fit”; “I think bands exist for different reasons; opportunities should exist relative to their abilities”; “I’ve tried out six groups since moving here and stuck with two”; “There should be multiple groups around so you can join based on your level of seriousness”; “Would I play if I hated the people? Maybe if it was the only game in town, but I would probably just find another group.” As well, informants from both Bands B and C mentioned that several members left their bands as the result of the conductor, reinforcing the view that people exercise options when they are available. Several informants mentioned playing in more than one group (beyond community wind bands) and playing with different groups to fill their calendar with year-round activity. Among the examples cited were participating in a national community band and a community band festival in California. Like their USA counterparts, the Singapore informants also sought to find bands that matched their interests and needs (e.g., “to continue playing my instrument with a concert band of acceptable standard and reputation” and “varied band repertoire”). However, several noted that a strong draw to their respective bands was the presence of “close ties and friendships” (e.g., “They are part of my social circle and I want to continue keeping in touch with them”).
Organizational Effectiveness
One of our lines of questioning focused on inclusion versus standards and how important it was for the band to be “good.” Every informant from the USA answered that it was important for the band to be good, but each person was also quick to add that musical improvement had to occur by working with existing personnel; cutting people was not an option, even in Band C, which was founded with a mission of being a “quality band.” Although Band C eventually instituted auditions several years after its founding, these were optional and for chair placement only. As one Band C informant put it, “Cutting would come at the cost of what we wanted it to be originally. There are people in my section who have never auditioned, but am I going to take this away from them?” One Band B member echoed this sentiment, saying, “We still want to sound good and perform well, but we’re not going to kick people out in order to achieve that.”
A desire to play in a “good” band was similarly noticed among the Singapore informants (e.g., “I feel that it is very important that this group performs at a high level as it is one of the aims of the group”; “[We] should always strive for excellence in our playing, even if it is a hobby”). There were mixed viewpoints on the potential tension between being “good” and being “inclusive,” regardless of performance abilities. On the one hand were those who strongly expressed the need for competent musicians (e.g., “It is more important for this group to be good than to be inclusive”; “Given the makeup of this group and its belief in excellence, members tend not to tolerate musicians who are not competent”). On the other hand were participants who were willing to work with anyone (e.g., “I would be happy to be playing with anyone. Sometimes by helping the weaker ones, that is the time where we are able to learn new things and improve on our side”). A few participants called for a balance between maintaining standards and being inclusive. One informant from Band G noted: “If it wants to be inclusive to people with less proficient musical abilities, then there must be a structured program to help these weaker players improve.”
Discussion
Rational choice is an underlying principle behind incentive systems. By virtue of their involvement, all our informants can be understood as perceiving the benefits as outweighing the costs of participation. Findings were, for the most part, consistent with Spencer’s (1996) six dimensions of motivation. Although there were mentions of social rewards, and this dimension was clearly important for a minority of informants, the making and performing of music that struck the appropriate balance of challenge, attainability, and audience satisfaction was the primary incentive. A number of Singaporean informants identified a learning aspect associated with community wind band participation, something not reported by most American informants.
Understood as the sacrifice of personal pursuits for the good of the collective interest (i.e., distinct from “passion”), commitment among community wind band participants may be considered present to the extent informants sacrifice desires for musical agency to the directions of the conductor. In many ways, this corroborates criticisms voiced by some commentators about authoritarianism in large ensembles (e.g., Allsup & Benedict, 2008; Kratus, 2007; Tan, 2014; Williams, 2011). There was indeed an overwhelming sense among our informants that participants should subjugate their own musical opinions and abide by the conductor’s wishes. However, a number of informants made clear they would gladly defect to another group if conditions under the present conductor became too bleak, a view that underscores the importance of musical options in a given environment (something not common to institutional wind bands). Emphatic commitment to a particular group was found primarily only among members of one USA band.
The formal structures of community wind bands present an intriguing instance of expressive voluntary associations insofar as structures operate in both a musical (practice) sphere and an operations sphere. In one sense, we perceived the “legitimating myth” of the “ideology of democratic participation” in that the conductor was viewed, with the notable exception of Band C, as operating at the pleasure of the band. The ensemble–conductor relationship, in other words, very much defined how our informants understood and rationalized their participation. Overall, it would appear that the structures of the community wind bands in this study have not departed markedly from Martin’s (1983) findings on conductors, audition requirements, and members voting on band policies.
Formal structures were intimately linked with issues of leadership and authority. Although the organizations in this study had some form of executive or council that possessed ultimate authority, the main activity of community wind bands consists of musical rehearsal and performance. Consistent with Heintzelman’s (1988) findings that the conductor’s importance was more utilitarian than motivational, our informants were almost unanimous in their desire for strong, competent musical leadership that would facilitate their desires for rewarding musical experiences, with the caveat expressed by several that interpersonal commentary and direction should be respectful and mindful of differing levels of competence and performing standards aspirations. The general lack of references to the informants’ school music experiences here is intriguing. Although we did ask questions about their school music backgrounds, thus potentially opening the door to commentary at various stages in the interviews, no informants explicitly referenced school music experiences in connection with issues of leadership and authority. One possible explanation is that with the obvious difference that members are older and no longer participate in the role of students, community wind band participants view the role of the conductor as largely indistinct from wind band participation during their school years. Our informants expected competent leadership from their conductor, much as they probably did from their school music teachers.
Frequent comments by USA informants about the struggles to accommodate increasing numbers of players suggest a fertile, “stable” environment for community wind bands where specialization (ensembles that vary with respect to repertoire, technical playing standards, performing venue, etc.) was prevalent. Given that our study was conducted in two large urban areas, it is valuable to consider if widespread participation in contemporary community wind bands is dependent on achieving a kind of critical mass that allows sufficient specialization to accommodate a range of participatory interests.
In our assessment, Band A represents an anachronistic example of the kind of community band once supported by public band tax laws in the United States. A few members of Band A, for example, lamented how their ensemble was no longer regarded by the public as it once was. After many decades of rehearsing in a local school without charge, Band A, “a group that thrives on the fact it performs as a service to the community,” was faced with a new expense (“after somebody complained to the legislature that people were using public facilities for free”), leading one informant to remark, “This year we got charged $800 for space. We’re all volunteers. It’s in our constitution that we can’t charge for concerts.” This situation would appear to support Raya’s (2017) finding of declining financial support for community bands in the United States. It remains to be seen if traditional civic groups like Band A will continue to serve a niche or if they will eventually evolve to become more like newer community wind bands. It also remains to be seen how the rapid growth of New Horizons ensembles may impact the community wind band world due to the lack of intergenerationality common to the community wind band tradition.
In terms of organizational effectiveness, informant responses suggest that most members were aware of the mission and purpose of their ensembles, with many comments showing awareness of where their group fit into the overall landscape of community wind bands. Contrary to Heintzelman’s (1988) findings, we would argue that not all community bands exist for both their members and the community at large. The majority of informant comments suggest that although they perform publicly, most community wind bands exist primarily as a musical outlet for their members.
Overall, there appeared to be more similarities than differences in responses between USA and Singapore informants, a finding that suggests that as a form of musical participation, wind bands share many commonalities that cut across cultural borders (Tan, 2012). This appears consistent with previous USA–Singapore cross-cultural research that found few differences in students’ motivation toward band (Miksza, Tan, & Dye, 2016; Tan & Miksza, 2018). At the same time, however, there were unmistakable band-by-band differences, indicative of subtle nuances in individual band cultures. Notably, although the Singapore ensembles rehearsed and performed a variety of repertoire, from light entertainment to “serious” art music, the underlying ethic of the groups, as gleaned from informant comments, seemed to share most in common with Band C from the USA, which leaned in the direction of a band emulating the performance aesthetic of top university wind bands. Whether this ethic represents a trend among community wind bands remains to be seen.
It should be noted that informants from Singapore were much younger on average than those from the USA. The phenomenon of “lapsed participation” (see Pitts, 2016) was therefore not an issue among Singapore informants but is one deserving of additional research. That four USA informants returned to wind bands after lapses of 25 to 49 years speaks to deep-seated desires among some for musical participation in older adulthood, a finding that resonates with the rapid growth of New Horizons ensembles.
Implications
Although not frequently employed in music education research to date, organizational theory provides a way of understanding community wind bands as expressive voluntary associations. The salience for music educators, particularly those who teach in school, is that organizational theory helps illuminate the importance of various dimensions that can impact lifelong participation in music. Thinking of community wind bands as heterogeneous entities that serve diverse interests related to lifelong participation can question assumptions that there is a “right” way to approach wind band activity (or music learning and teaching generally). Due to the environmental factors in our two geographic areas that support ensemble specialization, groups with diverse aims and purposes were allowed to flourish, thus allowing for a broader range of participants than might be the case in an environment that does not support specialization. Rather than viewing community wind bands simply as an extension of a school music experience oriented toward the performance of “serious art music,” the diversity of bands in this study should serve as a potent reminder of “different strokes for different folks” and the importance of creating opportunities for as many interests as possible. Finally, the cross-cultural comparison aspect of this study suggests many commonalities in wind band participation that may transcend culture. Additional research in this area is warranted to learn more about how recreational music participation functions in people’s lives in different cultural contexts.
Two additional aspects tangential to the primary purposes of the study deserve mention. First, all of the conductors of the wind bands included in this study were male. While not necessarily exceptional, given the predominance of male wind band conductors generally, it is notable that, in contrast with some Singaporean informants, some of whom used the words “he or she,” every single American informant used the male pronoun in response to our very carefully worded nongendered prompt to “describe your ideal conductor” and our very careful interview interactions intended to discuss the conductor in abstract, nongendered terms. It is also notable that, outside of one person of Asian descent, all USA informants were white. Observations of the USA community bands in this study revealed them to be almost exclusively white, which is not proportionately reflective of the geographic area’s demographic profile. The whiteness of community bands is consistent with the findings of Elpus and Abril (2011) and Elpus (2015) that whites are overrepresented among American school music students and music teacher licensure candidates.
National status studies, such as those conducted by Martin (1983), Heintzelman (1988), Spencer (1996), and Raya (2017), have helped advance knowledge of community wind band activity, although at the cost of portraying distinct band profiles and cultures. By considering community wind bands as a form of expressive voluntary association, we used organizational theory to better understand the socio-cultural practice of community wind bands. We wanted to know first, how selected members of community wind bands understood and rationalized their participation and second, how the participants from the USA and Singapore compared and contrasted in their responses. Ultimately, we hope the findings of this study can better inform the music education profession about community wind bands as a form of lifelong engagement with music.
Supplemental Material
DS_10.1177_0022429418820340 – Supplemental material for A Cross-Cultural Examination of Lifelong Participation in Community Wind Bands Through the Lens of Organizational Theory
Supplemental material, DS_10.1177_0022429418820340 for A Cross-Cultural Examination of Lifelong Participation in Community Wind Bands Through the Lens of Organizational Theory by Roger Mantie and Leonard Tan in Journal of Research in Music Education
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
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References
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