The Scholar/Performer: a New Dimension in Music Research

David R Lockett, Elder Conservatorium of Music, The University of Adelaide

In the Western musical tradition, performance has been viewed as a largely intuitive process, with the most illustrious performers possessing the insight to understand and interpret the masterpieces from past and present. Musical research, on the other hand, has often been regarded as a purely academic exercise, of little practical value to the performer or listener. In recent years, this gap has begun to narrow and the process and products of performance have become the subject of an ever-growing body of research. In a similar way, scholarship has come to underpin the work of some of our most admired and influential performers. The paper makes the case that performance is both a valuable tool for research and a legitimate outcome of it. It examines those aspects of performance that have been the subject of structured investigation and considers the implications for higher degree programs within our universities.

Introduction

Like many people at this conference, I was drawn to music through an instrument. It was actually the smell of my family’s upright piano that created the strongest impression when it first arrived in our home. I distinctly recall that my first approach to it was a very timid one. Soon, however, the instrument became a very close friend and the rest, as they say, is history.

I was fortunate to receive the best available musical education during my primary and secondary years and, while at university, I was exposed to some of the most modern and exciting musical developments of the time. But I realize now that I looked at music solely through the perspective of a piano keyboard. I did not, at that time, make the connections between the different ways of experiencing and understanding music. When one of my lecturers suggested that I might like to explore the posthumous piano sonatas of Schubert as an area of specialization for my honours degree, I dismissed it almost immediately. Schubert was, after all, “easy”. And those late sonatas seemed to go on for ever. Besides, this lecturer was a musicologist and what did musicology and research have to do with being a pianist?

Since then, my thinking has changed considerably as I have become more and more intrigued by the way music works and by the ways in which ideas are expressed. As I have been drawn to investigate the language, structure and context of music, I have become aware of its multiple layers and of the complex inter-relationships that define it. And I have come to see that performance is an important way, if not a unique way, of integrating all these dimensions.

This paper looks at performance, not as the physical manipulation of an instrument or as the mechanical reproduction of notes on a page, but as a process of thoughtful investigation, analysis and synthesis. It argues that one of the best ways we have of understanding music is to actually play it. The thoughtful performer is undertaking a systematic process of enquiry just as valid as any musicologically-based investigation. Not only is performance an essential tool for research, it is also an important product of it. In the right context, it can be seen as equivalent to the

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more common text-based outcomes that characterize most of the research that takes place in the humanities and social sciences. The paper suggests that the “informed performer”, the “reflective practitioner” or the “scholar performer” can bridge that artificial divide between theory and practice that has characterized the study of music for well over a hundred years.

The Interface Between Performance and Research

Performance has often been viewed as a largely intuitive process, not related to the scholarly traditions that have characterized some other areas of the discipline. The most celebrated performers have possessed the penetrating insight to understand and communicate (that is, to interpret) the inner meaning of music past and present. They have sometimes done so without a conscious awareness of what they were doing or why. By way of contrast, we sometimes hear less convincing performances that are generally “good” but which somehow lack the magical power of personal communication. Playing of this kind is sometimes described as being “academic” – a somewhat disparaging label that can reflect the perception that the creative and intellectual elements are somewhat out of balance. The best and most satisfying performances usually contain both ingredients in the right proportions, each balancing and reinforcing the other.

There is a growing cohort of performers whose work is informed by a deep historical, theoretical, analytical and cultural understanding of the music that they play. They have allowed their own playing to be informed by the large body of musicological research and have themselves contributed to it. Typical and influential examples from the older generation include Paul Badura-Skoda and Charles Rosen. In Badura-Skoda’s case, he applied the principles of theory and performance found in eighteenth century treatises to the performance on modern instruments of music from the period. His own playing and his writings about performance issues in the works of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert have provided pianists with clear and useful guidance concerning tempo, articulation, ornamentation and other aspects of informed performance. This study of historical performance practice is now widespread and firmly embedded in the mainstream scholarly and performing traditions. Rosen’s work is extremely diverse, moving from theoretical and historical dimensions of music through to other areas of the humanities, including poetry and art. His book “The Classical Style” has become a standard work of reference, while the more recent “Piano Notes” gives a fascinating and eminently readable insight into the mind of a great pianist and scholar.

Badura-Skoda, Rosen and others have generated a subtle shift in the way performance is viewed within a scholarly context. In its highest form, it still maintains a certain mystique that seems to defy analysis. Yet at a more routine level, the nature, processes and products of performance are featuring more and more prominently in research publications.

There is a growing body of research that focuses on the nature and development of performance skills. This work has been influenced by psychological and educational methodologies and has been led largely by Scandinavian and British

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scholars (such as Harald Jørgensen, K. Anders Ericsson and Susan Hallam). It uses an empirical approach to investigate the cognitive and motor elements of performance, the choices made and the relationship between performance and listener perception. Other scholars, such as Nicholas Cook, Edward T Cone and John Rink, have analysed performance from a theoretical perspective, investigating how particular performances convey the structure of the work and the composer’s overriding vision.

Parallel to these investigations into performance as an end product, there is also a developing view that performance is, in its own right, a valuable tool for research, generating its own dimensions of musical understanding to complement the more traditional theoretical and analytical approaches. This is worth teasing out in some detail as it contains a radical element that throws out a challenge in the face of the great divide that has existed for over a century between the theory and the practice of music.

We can see this more integrated approach in action through the work of distinguished pianist and scholar Roy Howat. He takes the refreshing view that our experience as working musicians provides a valid and valuable mode of understanding, equivalent to other more widely recognized methods of musical investigation. He and others have likened the role of the performer to that of an editor (Howat, 2004 p. 4; Lockett, 2006, p. 20). Performers and editors both engage in an extensive process of study and reflection and both commit themselves to a particular view of a work. Much of the research that underpins the process of editing must be based upon the practical considerations of performance since, quite apart from anything else, the music needs actually to work.

Edward T Cone makes a similar point concerning performance and criticism. "The same resources that lead to valid critical interpretation inform intelligent practical interpretation - i.e. performance." Both, according to Cone, depend upon intuition informed by experience. The performer relies on a combination of "sound technical analysis and relevant musicological scholarship". Should these leave "immediately perceptible marks on the finished product”, then the performance is immediately labeled as "academic" (Cone, 1995, p. 242).

Howat’s and Cone’s perspective relates closely to my own experiences performing, researching and editing the music of the Australian composer Margaret Sutherland. The process began some twenty-five years ago when I was asked to play the solo harpsichord part in an Australian Broadcasting Corporation recording of Sutherland’s Concerto Grosso for violin, viola, harpsichord and string orchestra. The work created a strong impression and I made a mental note that here was an important and interesting Australian composer. Little did I realize at the time that the obvious and suspected errors that were evident in the hand written parts represented the tip of a very big iceberg with which I would collide frequently over the next few years as I became progressively more familiar with this composer’s music. As it was, whenever we were unsure which notes to play, my colleagues and I simply made our decisions based upon our musical instincts and how the passage actually worked in performance.

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To cut a very long story short, I subsequently had reason to search out and perform many other works by Sutherland, presenting them in concert, recording them on CD and eventually editing them for publication. I won’t go into detail about all the thorny textual issues that I encountered, as I have written about them extensively elsewhere (Lockett, 2006). The point is that my knowledge of this music as a performer – the feel of it under the hands, the sound of it in my ear and the sense of how the elements fitted together into a cohesive whole – was an indispensable tool in working many of the issues through. Charles Rosen, great musical intellect that he is, was absolutely right when he said that “the best way to learn about a work of music is to play it” (Rosen, 2002, p. 45).

My experience with the music of Margaret Sutherland is one of many examples one could cite of the point of intersection between performance and research. So when does performance actually become research? And in what ways can the research process contribute to performance outcomes?

We first of all need to clarify what we mean by “performance” and “research”.

The Oxford English Dictionary gives two specific definitions of “research” that are of particular interest to me – one I was expecting to find while the other surprised me. The first was this: “A search or investigation directed to the discovery of some fact by careful consideration or study of a subject; a course of critical or scientific inquiry” (Oxford English Dictionary Online, 2007). The key words here are “investigation”, “discovery”, “careful”, “critical” and “inquiry”.

The other definition was of interest rather than direct relevance but I will mention it anyway as it had a specifically musical focus: It was given as being current between 1727 and 1738 and referred to a “kind of prelude or voluntary...wherein the composer seems to search or look out for the strains and touches of harmony, which he is to use in the regular piece to be played afterwards” (Oxford English Dictionary Online, 2007). As I say, not particularly helpful but interesting none the less.

The Australian Research Council, one of the main funding organizations for research in universities, defines various types of research. “Basic research” is undertaken “to acquire new knowledge of the underlying phenomena and observable facts, without any particular application or use in view.” There is a distinction made between “Pure basic research” and “Oriented strategic basic research”. The distinction relates to whether or not the work is likely to provide a solution to “recognised or expected current or future problems or possibilities”. Applied Research, on the other hand, is “original investigation undertaken in order to acquire new knowledge but is directed primarily towards a specific, practical aim or objective” (Australian Research Council, 2007).

We can now add a few more key words and phrases to our list: “acquire new knowledge”, “solution of problems” and “original”.

Where does this leave us with music performance?

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In its most literal sense, the term “performance” denotes simply “execution” or “accomplishment”. Its meaning can be extended to encompass the act of “presentation” before an audience or the process of “representation”, as of a character in a play or, in our case, of a musical composition. None of these meanings implies any element beyond the development of skill, and it would be drawing a rather long bow to link them to any of the key words and phrases previously identified as defining research.

In its set of definitions of “performance”, the Oxford English Dictionary goes one step further and includes the dimension of “interpretation”:

“An instance of performing a play, piece of music, etc., in front of an audience; an occasion on which such a work is presented; a public appearance by a performing artist or artists of any kind. Also: an individual performer's or group's rendering or interpretation of a work, part, role, etc.” (Oxford English Dictionary Online, 2007).

Here we have something that we can work with, an element that embraces both understanding and communication: something that can be developed through a systematic process of investigation and reflection. There is also an implication of originality – it is not just any interpretation but one that reflects the creative insight of a particular individual or group.

This leads to a most important set of questions: What are the elements of a musical work that can be the subject of structured, systematic investigation and which can contribute to an enriched and original understanding? Can that understanding be communicated through the act of performance? If so, how can it be demonstrated and validated?

Performance as Research

We have now reached the point where we are able to say that performance, if it is to take on a dimension of genuine research, needs to embrace some form of innovation. This can take the form of a focus on new repertoire, new understandings, new contexts or new techniques. Like other forms of research, this view of performance is about questioning assumptions and seeing familiar things in a new light. It uses a set of skills that are simple and commonplace - the ability to ask questions, to think, to listen, to reflect and to make connections. It is deliberate and systematic, aimed at finding out and deepening understanding. It causes one to reconsider practice and perhaps to challenge assumptions (Blaxter, Hughes & Tight, 2001, pp. 4-6). It fits comfortably within the definitions of research used by the Australian Research Council and other similar bodies.

In order to further explore this interface between performance and research, we will look now at two major areas of investigation that have hitherto been the province of musicologists rather then performers. They are both well established and universally accepted within the international scholarly environment. One revolves around a study of musical texts while the other centres upon the techniques and purposes of musical analysis.

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Musicologists frequently debate what it is that defines a musical work. In the western tradition, the existence of a published score is of prime importance - it preserves the music, facilitates its dissemination and ensures an afterlife (Beard & Gloag, 2005, p. 190). For the performer, the score is one of the chief points of contact with the original creative source and one’s attitude towards it will influence the performance in quite a profound way. Some players regard the score with almost fundamentalist zeal, noting even the tiniest details and seeking to observe them literally. Others are much more liberal in their approach, viewing the printed notation within a broader historical and stylistic context and interpreting its meaning accordingly. There are some, of course, who seem to ignore the score altogether.

In addressing the relationship between the musical score and performance, Edward T Cone warns that while “the performer's fidelity to the score is necessary, it is never sufficient” (Cone, 1995, p. 244). Cone was one of those people who crossed musical boundaries. A distinguished composer, theorist and pianist, he addressed at length the higher goals of performance, those elements that go beyond the purely physical and instinctive to illuminate the essence of a composition. For him, a respect for and understanding of the score is a required starting point for a deep and personal involvement with what he calls the “musical thought of the composition” (Cone, 1995, p. 242). The performer relies on a combination of "sound technical analysis and relevant musicological scholarship" to understand the score and to realize it in sound. Intuition can still play an important role but it is intuition born from a thoughtful and mature awareness.

The score can be very imprecise, however, and sometimes it provides little more than a preliminary starting point for performance – not unlike a recipe for the creation of a culinary masterpiece.

For the pianist who looks to the printed page to reveal the essence of a composition, eighteenth century works provide some of the biggest dilemmas. They were written at a time when composers did not feel the need to communicate their intentions with the clarity that later became the norm. The musical language of the time was widely understood even without such direction and, in any case, there was little thought that musicians from another time and place might have any interest in the work.

In this example from the Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue, Bach indicates in bars 43 and 44 the general style of playing that he expects but he leaves it to the performer to fill in the detail.

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Bach: Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue BWV903 bars 43 to 51 (Peters urtext edition)

As time went on, attitudes began to change. As long as Mozart was writing his concerti primarily for himself or close associates to perform, he could make do with musical short hand. This is why most of them are virtually devoid of dynamics and why some of them have rather empty passages that really do not work without some form of elaboration.

Mozart: Piano Concerto in E flat K.482, 3rd movement bars 344 to 348 (Bärenreiter edition).

It is interesting to compare that example with the detailed instructions found in the A minor Rondo, one of Mozart’s last works for solo piano.

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Mozart: Rondo in A minor K.511 (Henle edition)

These two examples were taken from the one composer within a span of only two years and it would be interesting to reflect upon the psychology behind two such different approaches to musical notation.

By the time we reach the twentieth century, there are examples of scores that contain such an overload of information that, while the intention is clear, it becomes difficult to achieve it with precision anyway (see example below).

Boulez: Structures (premier livre) for piano four hands (Universal Edition)

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Over time, the printed score took on increasing importance as the basis for interpretation. Not only did composers become much more precise about the way they communicated their ideas in print but many performers demanded clearer and more accurate scores that stripped the musical text of distracting and sometimes misleading editorial interference. The excellent editions that most of us use today for eighteenth and nineteenth century keyboard works – Henle, Bärenreiter and Wiener Urtext for example – are products of this approach. They were prepared by teams of scholars and performers on the basis of painstaking musicological research and they revolutionized the way the works were presented and perceived.

We can approach the creative mind even more closely by consulting the manuscripts themselves and the original printings. The peculiarities of the handwriting, the slips of the pen and the very unfamiliarity of the layout in examples such as this allow us to see the music in a new light.

Beethoven: Sonata in c minor op.111, 1st movement bars 20 to29 (Dover Facsimile Edition)

Lest this lead to complacency, however, it must be admitted that even bad editions can inspire great performances. Faithfulness to the score is useless unless it is supported by imagination.

This move towards greater clarity and accuracy of text has opened up new possibilities for performance but it has also led to some unintended consequences. Unquestioning acceptance of the details present in (or absent from) the score can sometimes lead to a certain dryness and literalness that takes players further from rather than closer to the musical truth. The fact is that many elements of musical notation changed their usage and meaning over time. For example, nineteenth century composers used slurs quite differently from the way of their classical

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forebears. Signs for articulation and ornaments also had different meanings at different times. To complicate things further, individual composers viewed the printed score in a variety of ways. Some took great trouble notating the musical details and expected them to be scrupulously observed. Ravel admonished those performers who insisted on “interpreting” his works instead of simply playing what was written. Chopin, on the other hand, was constantly making amendments to his scores, producing variants according to the circumstances that arose during his teaching. Occasionally, we have a sense that composers themselves struggled with the best way to notate particular ideas – some musical effects are simply too subtle for unambiguous notation and the performer needs to step back and seek the gesture rather than obsess over the detail.

The point here is that a musical score can communicate many different things, and without some sense of the historical development of musical notation and of individual composers’ temperaments and preferences, the performer can run into trouble.

We can now move on to the next main area of focus – the nature and purpose of analysis for the performer.

During the twentieth century, analysis came to be seen almost as an end in itself, though that has not always been the case. Some theorists early in the century, people such as Heinrich Schenker and Hugo Riemann, were deeply engaged with the practical elements of music making (Rothstein, 1995, p. 217). Today, increasing numbers of scholars are being drawn to a view that sees formal structure as only one of many components that contribute to one’s understanding of a musical work. William Rothstein asks what effect the music’s structure should have on the way it is performed (Rothstein, 1995, p. 218). I am reminded of the story of a pianist asking Anton Webern how his Variations op. 27 were put together. The response was unexpected – “It is none of your business”, or words to that effect.

Rothstein’s discussion of the relationship between analysis and performance is interesting. What, he asks, is more significant to a performance - a demonstration of analytical understanding or a communication of the essence of the musical work that comes from a complete identification with the work as a whole? The process of analysis, as normally applied, pulls the work apart – for the performer, what is needed is synthesis, or integration of the work's diverse parts. It is possible for a reciter of poetry to understand fully the metre, rhyme, structure and even the imagery of a poem but fail to make a convincing recitation. So too with music. Music does not generally have the benefit of words to point to its inherent meaning, so it is even more important to synthesise the elements successfully - elements like harmony, counterpoint, metre, texture and sonority (Rothstein, 1995, p. 218).

It is in the performance of fugues where we can see a clear example of the difference between analysis and synthesis. Simply bringing the subject out every time it appears misses the point of what a fugue is all about. It frequently distorts the overall flow and direction of the music and ignores the subtle interplay between voices that often have different but equally important roles. Analytical awareness is

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essential but it should not be the primary driving force behind the performance. Instead, it should stimulate the performer to make their own artistic choices concerning the relationship between the elements. It is not simply a case of emphasizing one voice and pushing the others into the background. One needs to appreciate the distinctive style and character of each of the voices, combining them in such a way that the interplay between them is clear and natural.

This brings us back to the idea of originality in performance. The performer who has this sort of structural awareness makes many conscious and unconscious choices when synthesizing the elements for performance. Decisions concerning articulation, dynamics or tempo can inform the musical spirit (or the Affekt) of the thematic material, the relationship between the contrapuntal voices and between the larger structural units. When built up in this way, a performance takes on an individual and authoritative voice that adds a new element to the body of understanding of the work.

It is the performer who controls the way a work unfolds over time. It is they who decide which elements are to be emphasized and which are simply to be allowed to speak for themselves. We can again use the analogy of the theatre, in which actors need to understand the characters and the plot of a play and use that knowledge in developing a distinctive and compelling performance (Rothstein, 1995, p. 237).

It is the process of analysis that forms the basis for many of the performer’s individual artistic choices. Analysis can, of course, take many different forms, from the rigidly ideological to the personal and intuitive. It can focus on themes and motives, on metrical organization, on voice leading or on phrase construction. Ideally, it should not rely entirely on any single approach and it must lead to synthesis. It assists the player in developing an understanding of the raw material of a work. Their task is then to put it all together in such a way that the listener can enjoy a vivid experience of the work as a whole.

The relationship between analysis and performance has been the subject of considerable scholarly discussion over the last twenty years or so and one of the leading contributors has been the British pianist and musicologist John Rink.

Rink discusses the differences between approaching a performance primarily by intuition and basing it first on analysis. He regards the latter approach as being somewhat dangerous, inspiring "dubious imperatives to the performer to 'bring out' a given motivic parallelism or structural harmony, often in violation of the spirit of the music, however that may be understood". The intuitive approach, on the other hand, "generates an intimate knowledge of the score comparatively free from theoretical bias" (Rink, 1995, p. 255).

Rink’s subsequent discussion is interesting. He outlines five separate stages for the study of Brahms’s Fantasien op. 116:

1. Intuitive preparation for performance 2. The performance itself 3. Analysis (in this case tracking the relationship between recurring motives

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in different pieces in Brahms op. 116 and considering how that process informs choices of rhythm, metre and tempo)

4. Comparative analysis of different recorded performances (including his own), with a particular focus on tempo

5. Reflection upon his own performance (stage 2 of the process) and considering how it might be different as the result of his research (Rink, 1995).

One interesting element of this process is that performance becomes both a tool for and an outcome of the research. It combines intuition born of experience with active intellectual engagement and systematic enquiry. It unquestionably represents an original, structured process of investigation. Informed by historical, stylistic, analytical, technical and expressive insight, it expands the range of interpretative choice available to the performer and brings a new dimension of understanding to the work. The research outcomes can be disseminated as performance (live or recorded) or as text, with both capable of validation through peer review and/or media critiques.

Conclusion

What conclusions can be drawn from all this?

The first is that, for a growing number of musicians, performance and scholarship go hand in hand. Some, such as Badura-Skoda and his followers, use the results of their research to directly inform their playing, placing a significant emphasis on an understanding and application of historical performance practices. Others, such as Charles Rosen, view performance in the context of broader musical, cultural and philosophical ideas. For people like Roy Howat and John Rink, performance is itself a tool for understanding music better, the ultimate measure of whether or not a particular musical idea actually works. For most of these scholar/performers, their work is disseminated in different forms – through playing, of course, but also through writing and, in many cases, through editing. This is an activity in which all elements come together, demanding theoretical as well as practical know-how.

The second conclusion that I would venture to propose is that for pianists in the twenty-first century, some level of scholarly awareness will become increasingly necessary. This is already the case with the finest artists. Performers like Andras Schiff and Murray Perahia bring to their playing not only an incredible level of pianism and musicality but they underpin it with deep stylistic and contextual awareness. Their constant creative engagement ensures that their performances are not reduced to the purely academic but retain an effective balance between intellect and imagination.

It is interesting to note that the approaches outlined in this paper coincide with a significant change in the research culture in our universities. Performance, for a long time isolated from the mainstream, now has a chance to be part of the action. This process has already commenced in some quarters. During the first Research Assessment Exercise in Britain in the 1990s, Conservatoires performed strongly as

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the result of their performance-based research. In 2007, Australian universities and the Department for Education, Science and Technology are preparing for next year’s Research Quality Framework submissions. It is still too early to tell exactly how performance will be regarded in this context but at least the issues are firmly on the agenda.

Equally significant is the way in which performance now plays an integral part in many Masters and PhD research degrees. In my own university, there has been a huge increase in the number of performance graduates wishing to undertake research degrees. These programs allow students to undertake research topics that can be investigated through performance. The final submission takes the form of an integrated package of recorded performances and supporting exegesis. This has required an interesting shift of perspective for students, supervisors and examiners. Text-based outcomes still form part of the picture but only to the extent that they support and amplify the performances themselves. There is some very interesting work that is being done, reflecting many of the elements already mentioned in this paper. Some projects focus on the works of particular composers, putting them into stylistic and historical context. Others take a particular idea and explore its application in a variety of different works from different periods. One such example is an investigation of the way in which eighteenth century structural and expressive devices were used by certain nineteenth and twentieth century composers – in this case Beethoven, Brahms, Liszt, Franck and Shostakovich. Another is an exploration of the musical language of Messiaen within the context of jazz improvisation. In much the same way as John Rink did in his study of the Brahms Fantasien op. 116, all of these students are using performance as an investigative tool while also presenting it as the major outcome of their research. Most importantly, the depth of intellectual engagement that is brought about by this process brings a new dimension to the performances themselves – and surely that is the ultimate test.

References

Australian Research Council. (2007). (Glossary). Retrieved 30 September 2007 from Australian Research Council on the World Wide Web: http://www.arc.gov.au/general/glossary.htm.

Beard, D., & Gloag, K. (2005). Musicology: The Key Concepts. New York: Routledge.

Blaxter, L., Hughes, C., & Tight, M. (2001). How to Research (second edition). Maidenhead, Philadelphia: Open University Press.

Cone, E. T. (1995). The pianist as critic. In J. Rink (Ed.), The Practice of Performance: Studies in Musical Interpretation (pp. 241-253). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Howat, R. (2004). Performance as research and vice versa. In M. Ewans, R. Halton & J. Phillips (Eds.), Music Research: New Directions for a New Century (pp. 2-14). London: Cambridge Scholars Press.

Lockett, D. (2006). Margaret Sutherland's 'Chiaroscuro I': A comparison of autograph sources. Musicology Australia, 27(2004-5), 19-34.

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Rink, J. (1995). Playing in time: Rhythm, metre and tempo in Brahms's 'Fantasien' Op. 116. In J. Rink (Ed.), The Practice of Performance: Studies of Musical Interpretation (pp. 254-282). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Rosen, C. (2002). Piano Notes: The World of the Pianist. New York: The Free Press. Rothstein, W. (1995). Analysis and the act of performance. In J. Rink (Ed.), The

Practice of Performance: Studies in Musical Interpretation (pp. 217- 240). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Simpson, J. (Ed.). (2007). Oxford English Dictionary Online. Retrieved 3 October 2007 from Oxford English Dictionary Online on the World Wide Web: from http://dictionary.oed.com/.

Sutherland, M. (2000). The piano works of Margaret Sutherland (D. Lockett, Ed.). Melbourne: All Music Publishing and Distribution.

About the Author David Lockett has appeared extensively as a soloist and chamber musician throughout Australia and internationally. He has performed, recorded and edited the piano music of Margaret Sutherland and has given over thirty première performances of works by Australian composers. He holds a Doctor of Music degree awarded in recognition of his achievements in the areas of performance and musicology. He is in constant demand as a teacher, examiner and adjudicator and is an active contributor to numerous professional and community organisations. He is a recipient of a University of Adelaide award for excellence in teaching. Contact Details Professor David Lockett Director Elder Conservatorium of Music The University of Adelaide SA 5005 AUSTRALIA Telephone: +61 8 8303 5867 Email: david.lockett@adelaide.edu.au