About 199 minutes
The orchestra and orchestral music — Reading Companion
Theory Instruction
45,726 recorded words. 34 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #71345Before opening Music and Life: A study of the relations between ourselves and music — Story, Setting & Ideas, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 53,494 words, 3 hr 53 min estimated reading time, and 6 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 25.2 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Music -- History and criticism,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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These alternatives are selected using recorded categories and estimated reading time.
About 199 minutes
Theory Instruction
45,726 recorded words. 34 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #71345About 277 minutes
Theory Instruction
63,542 recorded words. 44 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #44910About 148 minutes
Theory Instruction
33,907 recorded words. 85 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
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Surette opens by contrasting the rapid expansion of institutional music in the United States—opera houses, orchestras, school programs—with what he sees as a shallow musical culture. He warns that spending millions on music does not make a people musical; what matters is what they believe, love, and actually do. This blunt distinction between appearance and substance sets the tone for a book that repeatedly challenges passive consumption and advocates for active, participatory engagement with music.
In the introduction, Surette immediately frames his central concern: the gap between the impressive statistics of musical institutions and the actual musical life of the community. He writes that a casual observer might conclude Americans are musical, but one who looks beneath the surface must do a sum in subtraction. This metaphor of subtraction—removing what is mere expenditure or fashion—recurs throughout the book. Surette does not dismiss institutions outright; rather, he insists that they must be rooted in genuine love and understanding, not in social prestige or mechanical instruction. The opening thus prepares readers for a work that will question common assumptions about music education, concert-going, and the role of music in daily life.
In the chapter on community music, Surette offers a concrete alternative to what he calls “music by proxy”—the habit of letting professionals perform while the public listens passively. He advocates for singing in unison, especially in women’s clubs, as a way to bring people into the fold. His language is direct and occasionally wry: he suggests that any club, save perhaps a burglar’s, should begin with a hearty song. More seriously, he argues that step-by-step growth, not violent leaps, is what nature demands. The middle of the book thus shifts from diagnosis to prescription, emphasizing that active participation, even in simple forms, builds a foundation for deeper musical understanding.
Surette describes his own experiment in a town of six thousand inhabitants, where he formed a choral society with two conditions: only the best music, and free concerts for the townspeople. The group grew to include a small orchestra of string players and borrowed kettledrums. They performed works by Brahms and Bach, repeating pieces like the Schicksalslied three times over two years. Surette notes that both singers and audience were completely won over. This passage is the most concrete evidence in the excerpts of his principles in action. It shows that his advocacy for slow, repeated exposure to great music is not theoretical; he tested it and found that it secured allegiance. The experiment also illustrates his belief that a singing society should answer the community’s desire, not be a spectacle.
In the symphony chapter, Surette turns to the relationship between performers and listeners. He argues that understanding a symphony requires more than passive attendance; it demands preparation, perhaps through chamber music. He criticizes the tendency to value only the latest music and expert performances, leaving the average person behind. His target is not expertise itself but the exclusivity that can accompany it. The excerpts suggest that Surette sees the performer and public as partners in a shared musical experience, not as supplier and consumer. This section reinforces the book’s overall arc: from diagnosing a problem (institutional growth without depth), to proposing a remedy (active participation), to showing how that remedy can reshape even the most complex musical forms like the symphony.
Surette’s book is best approached as a series of linked arguments rather than a comprehensive history or technical manual. Readers will benefit from tracking his recurring contrast between genuine musical life and institutional show. The excerpts suggest that his most vivid writing comes when he describes his own experiment or skewers pretension. Pay attention to how he uses the first person—not as autobiography, but as evidence for his claims. The book rewards those who read it as a provocative essay on musical culture, not a neutral survey.
Reading Surette’s plea for singing together, I remembered my grandfather humming through chores—music as breathing, not performance. That quiet sense of living inside a piece returned when I later opened Descriptive Analyses of Piano Works For the Use of Teachers, Players, and Music Clubs — Key Ideas to Explore, finding the same patience in its careful attention, as if both books simply ask us to listen longer.
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