TEXT C
Why do you listen to music If you should put this question to a number of people, you might receive answers like these: "I like the beat of music," "I look for attractive tuneful- ness," "I am moved by the sound of choral singing," "I listen to music for many reasons but I could not begin to describe them to you clearly." Answers to this question would be many and diverse, yet almost no one would reply, "Music means nothing to me." To most of us, music means something; it evokes some response. We obtain some satisfaction in listening to music.
For many, the enjoyment of music does not remain at a standstill. We feel that we can get more satisfaction from the musical experience. We want to make closer contact with music in order to learn more of its nature; thus we can range more broadly and freely in the areas of musical style, form, and expression. This book explores ways of achieving these objectives. It deals, of course, with the techniques of music, but only in order to show how technique is directed toward expressive aims in music and toward the listener’s musical experience. In this way, we may get an idea of the composer’s intentions, for indeed, the composer uses every musical device for its power to communicate and for its contribution to the musical experience.
Although everyone hears music differently, there is a common ground from which all musical experiences grow. That source is sound itself. Sound is the raw material of music. It makes up the body and substance of all musical activity. It is the point of departure in the musical experience.
The kinds of sound that can be used for musical purposes are amazingly varied.Throughout the cultures of the world, East and West, a virtually limitless array of sounds has been employed in the service of musical expression. Listen to Oriental theatre music, then to an excerpt from a Wagner work; these two are worlds apart in their qualities of sound as well as in almost every other feature, yet each says something of importance to some listeners. Each can stir a listener and evoke a response in him. All music, whether it is the pulsation of primitive tribal drums or the complex coordination of voices and instruments in an opera, has this feature: it is based upon the power of sound to stir our senses and feelings.
Yet sound alone is not music. Something has to happen to the sound. It must move forward in time. Everything that takes place musically involves the movement of sound. If we hear a series of drumbeats, we receive an impression of movement from one stroke to the next. When sounds follow each other in a pattern of melody,we receive an impression of movement from one tone to the next. All music moves; and because it moves, it is associated with a fundamental truth of existence and experience.We are stirred by impressions of movement because our very lives are constantly in movement. Breathing, the action of the pulse, growth, decay, the change of day and night, as well as the constant flow of physical action- these all testify to the fundamental role that movement plays in our lives. Music appeals to our desire and our need for movement.

TEXT C
Why do you listen to music If you should put this question to a number of people, you might receive answers like these: "I like the beat of music," "I look for attractive tuneful- ness," "I am moved by the sound of choral singing," "I listen to music for many reasons but I could not begin to describe them to you clearly." Answers to this question would be many and diverse, yet almost no one would reply, "Music means nothing to me." To most of us, music means something; it evokes some response. We obtain some satisfaction in listening to music.
For many, the enjoyment of music does not remain at a standstill. We feel that we can get more satisfaction from the musical experience. We want to make closer contact with music in order to learn more of its nature; thus we can range more broadly and freely in the areas of musical style, form, and expression. This book explores ways of achieving these objectives. It deals, of course, with the techniques of music, but only in order to show how technique is directed toward expressive aims in music and toward the listener’s musical experience. In this way, we may get an idea of the composer’s intentions, for indeed, the composer uses every musical device for its power to communicate and for its contribution to the musical experience.
Although everyone hears music differently, there is a common ground from which all musical experiences grow. That source is sound itself. Sound is the raw material of music. It makes up the body and substance of all musical activity. It is the point of departure in the musical experience.
The kinds of sound that can be used for musical purposes are amazingly varied.Throughout the cultures of the world, East and West, a virtually limitless array of sounds has been employed in the service of musical expression. Listen to Oriental theatre music, then to an excerpt from a Wagner work; these two are worlds apart in their qualities of sound as well as in almost every other feature, yet each says something of importance to some listeners. Each can stir a listener and evoke a response in him. All music, whether it is the pulsation of primitive tribal drums or the complex coordination of voices and instruments in an opera, has this feature: it is based upon the power of sound to stir our senses and feelings.
Yet sound alone is not music. Something has to happen to the sound. It must move forward in time. Everything that takes place musically involves the movement of sound. If we hear a series of drumbeats, we receive an impression of movement from one stroke to the next. When sounds follow each other in a pattern of melody,we receive an impression of movement from one tone to the next. All music moves; and because it moves, it is associated with a fundamental truth of existence and experience.We are stirred by impressions of movement because our very lives are constantly in movement. Breathing, the action of the pulse, growth, decay, the change of day and night, as well as the constant flow of physical action- these all testify to the fundamental role that movement plays in our lives. Music appeals to our desire and our need for movement.

TEXT C
Why do you listen to music If you should put this question to a number of people, you might receive answers like these: "I like the beat of music," "I look for attractive tuneful- ness," "I am moved by the sound of choral singing," "I listen to music for many reasons but I could not begin to describe them to you clearly." Answers to this question would be many and diverse, yet almost no one would reply, "Music means nothing to me." To most of us, music means something; it evokes some response. We obtain some satisfaction in listening to music.
For many, the enjoyment of music does not remain at a standstill. We feel that we can get more satisfaction from the musical experience. We want to make closer contact with music in order to learn more of its nature; thus we can range more broadly and freely in the areas of musical style, form, and expression. This book explores ways of achieving these objectives. It deals, of course, with the techniques of music, but only in order to show how technique is directed toward expressive aims in music and toward the listener’s musical experience. In this way, we may get an idea of the composer’s intentions, for indeed, the composer uses every musical device for its power to communicate and for its contribution to the musical experience.
Although everyone hears music differently, there is a common ground from which all musical experiences grow. That source is sound itself. Sound is the raw material of music. It makes up the body and substance of all musical activity. It is the point of departure in the musical experience.
The kinds of sound that can be used for musical purposes are amazingly varied.Throughout the cultures of the world, East and West, a virtually limitless array of sounds has been employed in the service of musical expression. Listen to Oriental theatre music, then to an excerpt from a Wagner work; these two are worlds apart in their qualities of sound as well as in almost every other feature, yet each says something of importance to some listeners. Each can stir a listener and evoke a response in him. All music, whether it is the pulsation of primitive tribal drums or the complex coordination of voices and instruments in an opera, has this feature: it is based upon the power of sound to stir our senses and feelings.
Yet sound alone is not music. Something has to happen to the sound. It must move forward in time. Everything that takes place musically involves the movement of sound. If we hear a series of drumbeats, we receive an impression of movement from one stroke to the next. When sounds follow each other in a pattern of melody,we receive an impression of movement from one tone to the next. All music moves; and because it moves, it is associated with a fundamental truth of existence and experience.We are stirred by impressions of movement because our very lives are constantly in movement. Breathing, the action of the pulse, growth, decay, the change of day and night, as well as the constant flow of physical action- these all testify to the fundamental role that movement plays in our lives. Music appeals to our desire and our need for movement.

TEXT C
Why do you listen to music If you should put this question to a number of people, you might receive answers like these: "I like the beat of music," "I look for attractive tuneful- ness," "I am moved by the sound of choral singing," "I listen to music for many reasons but I could not begin to describe them to you clearly." Answers to this question would be many and diverse, yet almost no one would reply, "Music means nothing to me." To most of us, music means something; it evokes some response. We obtain some satisfaction in listening to music.
For many, the enjoyment of music does not remain at a standstill. We feel that we can get more satisfaction from the musical experience. We want to make closer contact with music in order to learn more of its nature; thus we can range more broadly and freely in the areas of musical style, form, and expression. This book explores ways of achieving these objectives. It deals, of course, with the techniques of music, but only in order to show how technique is directed toward expressive aims in music and toward the listener’s musical experience. In this way, we may get an idea of the composer’s intentions, for indeed, the composer uses every musical device for its power to communicate and for its contribution to the musical experience.
Although everyone hears music differently, there is a common ground from which all musical experiences grow. That source is sound itself. Sound is the raw material of music. It makes up the body and substance of all musical activity. It is the point of departure in the musical experience.
The kinds of sound that can be used for musical purposes are amazingly varied.Throughout the cultures of the world, East and West, a virtually limitless array of sounds has been employed in the service of musical expression. Listen to Oriental theatre music, then to an excerpt from a Wagner work; these two are worlds apart in their qualities of sound as well as in almost every other feature, yet each says something of importance to some listeners. Each can stir a listener and evoke a response in him. All music, whether it is the pulsation of primitive tribal drums or the complex coordination of voices and instruments in an opera, has this feature: it is based upon the power of sound to stir our senses and feelings.
Yet sound alone is not music. Something has to happen to the sound. It must move forward in time. Everything that takes place musically involves the movement of sound. If we hear a series of drumbeats, we receive an impression of movement from one stroke to the next. When sounds follow each other in a pattern of melody,we receive an impression of movement from one tone to the next. All music moves; and because it moves, it is associated with a fundamental truth of existence and experience.We are stirred by impressions of movement because our very lives are constantly in movement. Breathing, the action of the pulse, growth, decay, the change of day and night, as well as the constant flow of physical action- these all testify to the fundamental role that movement plays in our lives. Music appeals to our desire and our need for movement.

TEXT B
Predicting the future is always risky. But it’s probably safe to say that at least a few historians will one day speak of the 20th century as America’s "Disney era". Today, it’s certainly difficult to think of any other single thing that represents modem America as powerfully as the company that created Mickey Mouse. Globally, brands like Coca-Cola and McDonald’s may be more widely known, but neither concludes 20th-century America in quite the same way as Disney.
The reasons for Disney’s success are quite a lot, but ultimately the credit belongs to one person - the man who created the cartoon and built the company from nothing, Walt Disney. Ironically, he could not draw particularly well. But he was a genius in other aspects. In business, his greatest skills were his insight and his management ability. After setting himself up in Hollywood, he single-handedly pioneered the concepts of branding and merchandising -- something his company still does brilliantly today.
But what really distinguished Disney was his ability to identify with his audiences. Disney always made sure that his films portrayed the "little boy". He achieved this by creating characters that reflected the hopes and fears of ordinary people.
Disney’s other great virtue was the fact that his company - unlike other big corporations had a human face. His Hollywood studio - the public heard - operated just like a democracy, where everyone was on first-name terms and had a say in how things should be run. He was also regarded as a great patriot because not only did his cartoons praise America, but, during World War II, his studios made training films for American soldiers.
The reality, of course, was not so perfect. As the public would later learn, Disney’s patriotism had an unpleasant side. After a strike by cartoonists in 1941, he agreed to work for the FBI secretly, identifying and spying on colleagues who he suspected were anti-government.
But, apart from his affiliations with the FBI, Disney was more or less the genuine article. A new book, The Magic Kingdom: Walt Disney and the American Way of Life, confirms that he was very definitely on the side of ordinary people. In the 30s and 40s he voted for Franklin Roosevelt, believing he was a leader of the workers. Also, Disney was not an apologist for the FBI, as some have suggested. In fact, he was suspicious of large, bureaucratic organizations, as is evidenced in films like That Darned Cat.
By the time he died in 1966, Walt Disney was as famous as Thomas Edison and the Wright Brothers. To business people and filmmakers, he was a role model; to the public, he was "Uncle Walt" - the man who had entertained them all their lives, the man who represented all that was good about America.

TEXT B
Predicting the future is always risky. But it’s probably safe to say that at least a few historians will one day speak of the 20th century as America’s "Disney era". Today, it’s certainly difficult to think of any other single thing that represents modem America as powerfully as the company that created Mickey Mouse. Globally, brands like Coca-Cola and McDonald’s may be more widely known, but neither concludes 20th-century America in quite the same way as Disney.
The reasons for Disney’s success are quite a lot, but ultimately the credit belongs to one person - the man who created the cartoon and built the company from nothing, Walt Disney. Ironically, he could not draw particularly well. But he was a genius in other aspects. In business, his greatest skills were his insight and his management ability. After setting himself up in Hollywood, he single-handedly pioneered the concepts of branding and merchandising -- something his company still does brilliantly today.
But what really distinguished Disney was his ability to identify with his audiences. Disney always made sure that his films portrayed the "little boy". He achieved this by creating characters that reflected the hopes and fears of ordinary people.
Disney’s other great virtue was the fact that his company - unlike other big corporations had a human face. His Hollywood studio - the public heard - operated just like a democracy, where everyone was on first-name terms and had a say in how things should be run. He was also regarded as a great patriot because not only did his cartoons praise America, but, during World War II, his studios made training films for American soldiers.
The reality, of course, was not so perfect. As the public would later learn, Disney’s patriotism had an unpleasant side. After a strike by cartoonists in 1941, he agreed to work for the FBI secretly, identifying and spying on colleagues who he suspected were anti-government.
But, apart from his affiliations with the FBI, Disney was more or less the genuine article. A new book, The Magic Kingdom: Walt Disney and the American Way of Life, confirms that he was very definitely on the side of ordinary people. In the 30s and 40s he voted for Franklin Roosevelt, believing he was a leader of the workers. Also, Disney was not an apologist for the FBI, as some have suggested. In fact, he was suspicious of large, bureaucratic organizations, as is evidenced in films like That Darned Cat.
By the time he died in 1966, Walt Disney was as famous as Thomas Edison and the Wright Brothers. To business people and filmmakers, he was a role model; to the public, he was "Uncle Walt" - the man who had entertained them all their lives, the man who represented all that was good about America.

TEXT B
Predicting the future is always risky. But it’s probably safe to say that at least a few historians will one day speak of the 20th century as America’s "Disney era". Today, it’s certainly difficult to think of any other single thing that represents modem America as powerfully as the company that created Mickey Mouse. Globally, brands like Coca-Cola and McDonald’s may be more widely known, but neither concludes 20th-century America in quite the same way as Disney.
The reasons for Disney’s success are quite a lot, but ultimately the credit belongs to one person - the man who created the cartoon and built the company from nothing, Walt Disney. Ironically, he could not draw particularly well. But he was a genius in other aspects. In business, his greatest skills were his insight and his management ability. After setting himself up in Hollywood, he single-handedly pioneered the concepts of branding and merchandising -- something his company still does brilliantly today.
But what really distinguished Disney was his ability to identify with his audiences. Disney always made sure that his films portrayed the "little boy". He achieved this by creating characters that reflected the hopes and fears of ordinary people.
Disney’s other great virtue was the fact that his company - unlike other big corporations had a human face. His Hollywood studio - the public heard - operated just like a democracy, where everyone was on first-name terms and had a say in how things should be run. He was also regarded as a great patriot because not only did his cartoons praise America, but, during World War II, his studios made training films for American soldiers.
The reality, of course, was not so perfect. As the public would later learn, Disney’s patriotism had an unpleasant side. After a strike by cartoonists in 1941, he agreed to work for the FBI secretly, identifying and spying on colleagues who he suspected were anti-government.
But, apart from his affiliations with the FBI, Disney was more or less the genuine article. A new book, The Magic Kingdom: Walt Disney and the American Way of Life, confirms that he was very definitely on the side of ordinary people. In the 30s and 40s he voted for Franklin Roosevelt, believing he was a leader of the workers. Also, Disney was not an apologist for the FBI, as some have suggested. In fact, he was suspicious of large, bureaucratic organizations, as is evidenced in films like That Darned Cat.
By the time he died in 1966, Walt Disney was as famous as Thomas Edison and the Wright Brothers. To business people and filmmakers, he was a role model; to the public, he was "Uncle Walt" - the man who had entertained them all their lives, the man who represented all that was good about America.

TEXT B
Predicting the future is always risky. But it’s probably safe to say that at least a few historians will one day speak of the 20th century as America’s "Disney era". Today, it’s certainly difficult to think of any other single thing that represents modem America as powerfully as the company that created Mickey Mouse. Globally, brands like Coca-Cola and McDonald’s may be more widely known, but neither concludes 20th-century America in quite the same way as Disney.
The reasons for Disney’s success are quite a lot, but ultimately the credit belongs to one person - the man who created the cartoon and built the company from nothing, Walt Disney. Ironically, he could not draw particularly well. But he was a genius in other aspects. In business, his greatest skills were his insight and his management ability. After setting himself up in Hollywood, he single-handedly pioneered the concepts of branding and merchandising -- something his company still does brilliantly today.
But what really distinguished Disney was his ability to identify with his audiences. Disney always made sure that his films portrayed the "little boy". He achieved this by creating characters that reflected the hopes and fears of ordinary people.
Disney’s other great virtue was the fact that his company - unlike other big corporations had a human face. His Hollywood studio - the public heard - operated just like a democracy, where everyone was on first-name terms and had a say in how things should be run. He was also regarded as a great patriot because not only did his cartoons praise America, but, during World War II, his studios made training films for American soldiers.
The reality, of course, was not so perfect. As the public would later learn, Disney’s patriotism had an unpleasant side. After a strike by cartoonists in 1941, he agreed to work for the FBI secretly, identifying and spying on colleagues who he suspected were anti-government.
But, apart from his affiliations with the FBI, Disney was more or less the genuine article. A new book, The Magic Kingdom: Walt Disney and the American Way of Life, confirms that he was very definitely on the side of ordinary people. In the 30s and 40s he voted for Franklin Roosevelt, believing he was a leader of the workers. Also, Disney was not an apologist for the FBI, as some have suggested. In fact, he was suspicious of large, bureaucratic organizations, as is evidenced in films like That Darned Cat.
By the time he died in 1966, Walt Disney was as famous as Thomas Edison and the Wright Brothers. To business people and filmmakers, he was a role model; to the public, he was "Uncle Walt" - the man who had entertained them all their lives, the man who represented all that was good about America.

TEXT A
It was 1961 and I was in the fifth grade. My marks in school were miserable and, the thing was, I didn’t know enough to really care. My older brother and I lived with Mom in a dingy multi-family house in Detroit. We watched TV every night. The background noise of our lives was gunfire and horses’ hoofs from "Wagon Train" or "Cheyenne", and laughter from "I Love Lucy" or "Mister Ed". After supper, we’d sprawl on Mom’s bed and stare for hours at the tube.
But one day Mom changed our world forever. She turned off the TV. Our mother had only been able to get through third grade. But she was much brighter and smarter than we boys knew at the time. She had noticed something in the suburban houses she cleaned -- books. So she came home one day, snapped off the TV, sat us down and explained that her sons were going to make something of themselves. "You boys are going to read two books every week," she said. "And you’re going to write me a report on what you read."
We moaned and complained about how unfair it was. Besides, we didn’t have any books in the house other than Mom’s Bible. But she explained that we would go where the books were: "I’ll drive you to the library."
So pretty soon there were these two peevish boys sitting in her white 1959 Oldsmobile on their way to Detroit Public Library. I wandered reluctantly among the children’s books. I loved animals, so when I saw some books that seemed to be about animals, I started leafing through them.
The first book I read clear through was Chip the Dam Builder. It was about beavers. For the first time in my life I was lost in another world. No television program had ever taken me so far away from my surroundings as did this verbal visit to a cold stream in a forest and these animals building a home.
It didn’t dawn on me at the time, but the experience was quite different from watching TV. There were images forming in my mind instead of before my eyes. And I could return to them again and again with the flip of a page.
Soon I began to look forward to visiting this hushed sanctuary from my other world. I moved from animals to plants, and then to rocks. Between the covers of all those books were whole worlds, and I was free to go anywhere in them. Along the way a funny thing happened: I started to know things. Teachers started to notice it too. I got to the point where I couldn’t wait to get home to my books.
Now my older brother is an engineer and I am chief of pediatric neurosurgery at John Hopkins Children’s Center in Baltimore. Sometimes I still can’t believe my life’s journey, froma failing and indifferent student in a Detroit public school to this position, which takes me all over the world to teach and perform critical surgery.
But I know when the journey began - the day Mom snapped off the TV set and put us in her Oldsmobile for that drive to the library.

TEXT A
It was 1961 and I was in the fifth grade. My marks in school were miserable and, the thing was, I didn’t know enough to really care. My older brother and I lived with Mom in a dingy multi-family house in Detroit. We watched TV every night. The background noise of our lives was gunfire and horses’ hoofs from "Wagon Train" or "Cheyenne", and laughter from "I Love Lucy" or "Mister Ed". After supper, we’d sprawl on Mom’s bed and stare for hours at the tube.
But one day Mom changed our world forever. She turned off the TV. Our mother had only been able to get through third grade. But she was much brighter and smarter than we boys knew at the time. She had noticed something in the suburban houses she cleaned -- books. So she came home one day, snapped off the TV, sat us down and explained that her sons were going to make something of themselves. "You boys are going to read two books every week," she said. "And you’re going to write me a report on what you read."
We moaned and complained about how unfair it was. Besides, we didn’t have any books in the house other than Mom’s Bible. But she explained that we would go where the books were: "I’ll drive you to the library."
So pretty soon there were these two peevish boys sitting in her white 1959 Oldsmobile on their way to Detroit Public Library. I wandered reluctantly among the children’s books. I loved animals, so when I saw some books that seemed to be about animals, I started leafing through them.
The first book I read clear through was Chip the Dam Builder. It was about beavers. For the first time in my life I was lost in another world. No television program had ever taken me so far away from my surroundings as did this verbal visit to a cold stream in a forest and these animals building a home.
It didn’t dawn on me at the time, but the experience was quite different from watching TV. There were images forming in my mind instead of before my eyes. And I could return to them again and again with the flip of a page.
Soon I began to look forward to visiting this hushed sanctuary from my other world. I moved from animals to plants, and then to rocks. Between the covers of all those books were whole worlds, and I was free to go anywhere in them. Along the way a funny thing happened: I started to know things. Teachers started to notice it too. I got to the point where I couldn’t wait to get home to my books.
Now my older brother is an engineer and I am chief of pediatric neurosurgery at John Hopkins Children’s Center in Baltimore. Sometimes I still can’t believe my life’s journey, froma failing and indifferent student in a Detroit public school to this position, which takes me all over the world to teach and perform critical surgery.
But I know when the journey began - the day Mom snapped off the TV set and put us in her Oldsmobile for that drive to the library.