Musician Families—No, It’s Not Merely About Inherited Talent
By Thomas Wolf
Why do so many musicians come from multi-generational musical families?
Many believe the answer is simple. It’s all about genetics because musical talent is inherited. Pressing a bit further and asking people whether there are other contributing factors, some will say that adult musicians make youngsters practice diligently. The elders model the grit required to become truly accomplished.
My brother, Andy (right) and me about the time we started learning how to play instruments. It was immediately apparent that he had great talent. I did not. In spite of these differences, we both became professional musicians. (Photo credit: Luboshutz/Goldovsky/Wolf archive.)
Inherited ability and grit. A simple two-part explanation. But is it accurate?
Let’s take the issue of inherited talent. I am a musician from a five-generation musical family and I played professionally for many decades. But I was able to discern from an early age true talent from modest accomplishment. My brother, Andrew, a pianist, was extremely gifted. The musicians in the family noticed. His teachers noticed. Later his colleagues noticed. By way of contrast, I was not especially talented but I was good enough to become a journeyman musician. There were plenty of my peers who were far more talented than I was who did not manage to pursue a musical career, even though at one time, that was their aspiration. But they did not have professional musicians as relatives.
And what about “grit?” There is no question that regular practice is important. But will a young musician who practices five hours a day become better than one who practices three? Possibly… or possibly not. Like children in any discipline, a young musician may be patted on the head for diligence and extra effort, but that will not necessarily translate into better outcomes. [1]
What else besides genes and grit contributes to the persistence of musical families across generations?
So, if genes and grit are not entirely responsible for the persistence of professional musical families across generations, what else matters? There are several possibilities:
1. Early exposure. Why is it that a four-year-old can easily become bi-lingual just through simple exposure while it is a struggle for someone much older to pick up a second language, even with conscious effort? And why will a four-year-old generally speak that second language perfectly while a 25-year-old learning it for the first time will have more than a trace of an accent? Such was the case with my mother and her brother. Both were native Russian speakers. But my mother learned English before she was seven and spoke it perfectly without any accent. My uncle was nine years older and his entrance into the United States was delayed many years. In time, he would speak and write fluently in English. But he could never rid himself of an accent.
Pianist, Kathie Johnson, with her two daughters, Nicole and Kirsten, who had been exposed to music from birth. Later, Nicole would play cello in the Cassatt String Quartet and become a specialist in Bulgarian music. Kirsten would become assistant principal violist in the Philadelphia Orchestra. Their father, Marc, was the long-time cellist of the Vermeer Quartet and their grandmother was also a quartet player. (Photo courtesy of the Johnson family.)
Mastering a skill like playing an instrument is analogous to learning a second language. It is much easier when one starts young and it is preceded by a great deal of musical exposure. Consider the daughters of Marc and Kathie Johnson. The parents were both professional musicians. The children were exposed to music from the time they were in their mother’s womb. After they were born, the household provided a musical environment that led to a constant absorption of music—a kind of passive learning for which there is no substitute. That early exposure was complemented by parents encouraging the children to sing, beat time, and eventually start playing an instrument at a young age. Like the Johnsons, I was young (age five) when I began instrumental study with my grandmother. For all of us, that early exposure was the beginning of a glidepath that led years later to musical careers.
2. Good quality early teaching. One cannot stress enough the importance of the earliest training in later musical mastery. For an instrumentalist, establishing proper habits involving posture, arm and hand position, accurate fingering and other physical aspects must be complemented by an understanding of pulse, rhythm, articulation, and learning the pitches associated with different keys. All of this should become intuitive and automatic at a young age. By way of contrast, poor teaching leads to bad habits and when those are established early, they are difficult to eradicate.
Again, my own experience is germane. I began studies on violin with my grandmother, a concert violinist. I picked up many good habits from her but when I decided to switch to flute, no one in my family was familiar with the instrument. My first teacher was not very attentive and I picked up a few bad habits with respect to fingering. For years, trying to unlearn them was a constant battle. Fortunately, after a year, my family realized there was a problem and found me a better teacher which limited the number of bad habits I developed.
Violinist Anne Kadarauch instilled proper habits as she taught her daughter, Katie, who years later would become assistant principal violist in the San Franciso Symphony. Katie’s father, David, who was principal cellist of the San Francisco Opera and Ballet, also took on some of Katie’s instruction and coaching as she got older. (Photo courtesy of the Kadarauch family.)
3. Practicing the proper way. It is not necessarily true that the longer one practices, the better one gets. The conventional wisdom is that more is better. This is where the “grit” contingent gets its ammunition, backed up by popular research on academic achievement. [2]
Regular practicing is important, of course, and one must practice long enough and regularly enough to achieve mastery. But what matters most is how one practices. Students who work on a piece of music by playing the same familiar and easy material over-and-over again—happy because these parts go well—are largely wasting time. (It’s a lot more fun to skip over the hard parts!) But it is precisely the difficult sections that need the intense work. And that may mean playing them initially at a very slow tempo, changing the rhythms to try to fool the fingers and brain with additional challenges, and generally working through the most awkward sections until they are routine. Students can also play scales and arpeggios daily and practice etudes that stress aspects of technique, but doing so properly takes intense concentration—it is not routine exercise. Students must learn to listen carefully, experimenting with different phrasing and dynamics. Proper practice is hard and exhausting work, both physically and mentally.
And this is where older musicians in a household can be a boon to younger ones. The adults are constantly listening with what I call “half an ear.” Mistakes and sloppy practicing are immediately noticeable and irritating to the experienced musician. How many times while I was practicing would I would hear a voice from the next room saying, “Practice it slower.” Or: “You are consistently messing up the rhythm in the dotted sixteenth passage and you play an F natural instead of an F sharp.” Knowing that an adult musician is around, even if he or she doesn’t say anything, is enough of an incentive for the young person to concentrate. The rule is: don’t practice longer until you practice smarter. [3]
Cellist Michael Reynolds, Director of the School of Music at Boston University and the child of two professional musicians, feels so strongly about the importance of good quality instruments for young musicians that he created the Classics for Kids Foundation to help cover their costs. (Photo by Joshi Radin courtesy Reynolds family.)
4. A good instrument. I cannot count the number of times I have heard a parent say: “I’m not going to spend a lot of money on an instrument until I know my child is serious.” But a poor instrument will hamper a student’s ability to progress. And while it is not necessary to acquire a great instrument for a beginner, the instrument must be good enough that the young person can produce a range of sounds easily and flawlessly. A good instrument does not have to be prohibitively expensive and generally can be rented, but it often takes a musician to assess its quality.
Michael Reynolds (Director of the School of Music at Boston University, former cellist of the Muir String Quartet and himself the child of two professional string players) feels so strongly about the importance of a good instrument for young musicians that he has created a foundation to provide quality string instruments to training programs around the United States. As of this writing, his Classics for Kids Foundation has awarded grants in all 50 states to purchase more than 7,000 good quality string instruments with a value of over $3 million.
5. Modeling the life style. For many youngsters growing up in musical families, there is something exciting and special about the life style. As a very young person, I can remember the thrill of being able to go back stage at intermission when no one from the general public was allowed and hanging out with orchestra musicians until it was time for them to go on stage to warm up. When my relatives were soloists, having access to the Green Room (the soloists’ dressing room) when a few distinguished individuals might be sitting around chatting and telling jokes, was thrilling. When backstage personnel called “five minutes” prior to the second half, I knew it was time for me to go back into the hall and I could sense the envy of those who saw me coming out from backstage.
As I grew up, I was introduced to the special activities associated with concert days when one was a soloist for an important gig. When I debuted as soloist with the Philadelphia Orchestra as a teenager, I spent the night prior at my grandmother’s apartment, located walking distance from the performance venue where she had played so often. After a light breakfast, I was to practice no more than an hour, have down time until lunch (consisting of a small steak), go to the movies with her in the afternoon, rest, have a very light supper, dress, walk to the hall, and prepare for my appearance.
The late Marc Johnson, cellist of the Vermeer Quartet, used to talk about the thrill of sitting in with his mother’s string quartet as a youngster. It was the moment that he knew that this was the life he wanted for himself.
Of course, once I was an active musician, I came to realize that the life of a professional musician was not always so glamorous. Delayed transportation, bad hotels, lousy food, and moody colleagues were some of the realities of being on the road, for example. Still, being in an environment where my colleagues could talk intelligently and argue about the music continued to be something unique and wonderful about the life style.
Peter Zazofsky (left) with his father, George, who served as associate concertmaster of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, as the two prepare for a concert with the Orchestra. Peter would later have a solo career before becoming first violinist of the Muir String Quartet. Four other family members in his father’s generation were professional musicians and it seemed that everyone who counted in the music business knew members of his family. (Photo by Photography Incorporated, courtesy BSO Archives.)
Of all my colleagues, the one I most envied was Peter Zazofsky. His father was associate concertmaster of the Boston Symphony where his uncle was principal oboe. Another uncle was principal oboe of the New York Philharmonic, a third played violin in the Philadelphia Orchestra, while a fourth was a trumpet player in the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra. It seemed everyone who counted in the music business knew the Gomberg-Zazofsky family and Peter was a familiar presence in concert halls everywhere.
6. Social capital. Finally, let’s face it. Breaking into the musical profession is not easy, especially if one wants to make a living. Musician families often have the connections to grease the skids for their offspring. The conductor of the orchestra where my brother, Andy, and I soloed for the first time was a colleague of our family. So were the donors who supported our fledgling summer chamber music organization when we were teen-agers and our relatives set up the fundraising appointments for us.
Both Andy and I benefitted often from our uncle Boris Goldovsky’s assistance. When my brother finished conservatory and needed a manager, Uncle Boris put in a good word with his manager and Andy was put on the roster, though he was much younger and less experienced than other pianists selected. In my own case, my uncle made possible my role as flutist and company manager for fourteen national tours of his Goldovsky Opera Theatre, even though at least initially, my qualifications were limited. Indeed, because of my poor sight-reading skills, my uncle personally worked with me, helping me to learn flute parts to the operas prior to the initial rehearsals—something not extended to other members of the orchestra. The first book about music that I wrote (with his assistance) started another aspect of my career. The publisher had offered the contract to Boris, but my uncle insisted I become the book’s co-author. And so it went, over and over again. [4]
In this picture, I’m with my uncle Boris Goldovsky, preparing the flute part for an opera tour of his eponymous Goldovsky Opera Theatre prior to the first orchestra rehearsal. Nepotism clearly facilitated my selection as his principal flutist and company manager and garnered me extra rehearsal time. (Photo credit: Luboshutz/Goldovsky/Wolf archive.)
There is a saying in baseball that it is easy for players to score runs when they start on third base. For young people from musical families—particularly those that have been well-connected like mine—social capital provides a host of connections that can facilitate a career.
We may never know in each individual case, what combination of factors makes it possible for a particular young person from a musical family to enter the profession. One thing we do know is that for every individual, the case may be unique.
[1] A recent article in The New York Times, discussed a similar conundrum for young people who expect to be rewarded merely for the effort they put into their school work.
[2] The research of Angela Duckworth is particularly germane.
[3] Laurie Sokoloff, the long-time piccolo player in the Baltimore Symphony, had two distinguished musician parents. Rather than nag her constantly, the parents hired a conservatory student to supervise her practicing, a decision that had positive results.
[4] There are limits to how much family members can help a young relative establish a musical career, of course, especially with respect to the selection of personnel in professional orchestras. For the most part, these days an applicant for an orchestra position must pass an audition behind a screen. Audition committees started to come into general use in the 1970s, as musicians began to revolt against the abuses that happened under the “Old Boy” Network.