The Greater the Composer, the Greater the Student

The biggest names in music were rarely “born ready.” Most of them were proud to be students—apprentices of the masters they studied with.

The old writers even singled out one exception: Franz Schubert. Among the “immortals,” they said, he was the one who hadn’t received thorough training in every department of composition, and his music showed it. His melodic gift was extraordinary, but his thematic development and contrapuntal technique were less secure. Schubert recognized that gap and arranged to study counterpoint with one of the best teachers of the day—then illness intervened, and he died before he could benefit.

That contrast is the point. The greatest talents worked hardest and studied longest. Meanwhile plenty of people, armed with a tiny spark of ability, decide they need no guidance at all. If they can hum a tune, they declare themselves composers—without knowing the spelling, grammar, or rhetoric of music.

One such man once boasted to the author that he had written symphonies, operas, string quartets—everything—and had never taken a single lesson. For a moment you think you’ve met an unknown Beethoven. Then you realize you’ve met something else entirely.

A wiser attitude came from an old German teacher. When students told him, “You know so much—why don’t you compose?” he replied: “No, no! I won’t write my music. My God—there is enough bad music in the world already!”