(a rumination, for Kodály-based music teachers, by Nikhil Dally)
I love Kodály.
To put it more clearly, I love the approach, and the techniques which the
approach embraces. By the approach, I mean the conviction that learning music should
happen gradually, moving from the internal to the external, from the
subconscious to the conscious; step by step, one small layer at a time, every
new thing building upon what has been introduced and practised before; respecting
the natural physical, intellectual, and emotional development rates of children;
and emphasising the importance of deeply felt, deeply understood musicianship,
which is the key to all music making. The techniques I particularly love –
which follow, of course, from the general approach – include the use of the
voice to lead the hand and the mind, which enables the continuous practical
cross-relating of pulse, rhythm and pitch; and the use of rhythm syllables and
relative solfa to clarify and anchor musicianship. Specifically, relative solfa
is a work of genius, in my opinion the best ever means for developing the inner
ear and thereby teaching sight-singing and tuning. The Kodály emphasis on learning
through singing is, therefore, life-changingly insightful.
Over the
past few decades, we British Kodály-based teachers have worked hard to counter our
often stuffy reputation, becoming generally more broad-minded, both in regard
to the type of repertoire we admit into the classroom (see this article: https://steppingnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/bka-2017-issue-2-pp15-16.pdf ), and also in regard to our
attitude to the use of movement. We now extol the virtue of the latter,
recognising that singing and movement are complementary, and doing our best to
include “movement” in our classes and courses. This is undoubtedly a good thing.
However, in
our enthusiasm to embrace movement we are faced with a triple challenge. First,
we need to ensure that we know what movement actually is, so that we do
not make the very common mistake of thinking we are doing movement when we are
not. Second, we must make sure that we genuinely understand what the value
of movement is – otherwise we may miss out on some of its greatest benefits.
And third, we need to know how to incorporate movement into our practice
in a manner which is as deeply embedded and carefully thought through as our
use of singing.
Hence the triple
title of this article. In sum, we need to (1) know what movement really is,
so that (2) we really know what it is for, and therefore (3) we know how
to use it to its maximum effectiveness.