Every time we make music, we are playing ludus tonalis. It will serve us well to remember that it’s a game and play with the lightness, camaraderie, and fun of gameplay.
Ludus Tonalis is literally the game of tones. The game of music.
Alice Parker loved that Latin expression, though she wasn’t referring to Paul Hindemith’s extended keyboard work. In the foreword to her book The Anatomy of Melody, she writes:
We regain our way by learning to listen quietly, then to mimic and to echo, as children learn to speak. We hear the difference between one voice and another, between different speech rhythms, and the ways melodic lines imprint our memories. We copy, and right away we improvise. We play the game of sounds, ludus tonalis. We hear and sing pitches and rhythms that are un-notatable. We learn to value songs that have lasted and discover how to sing and play with them ourselves.
Alice Parker from the Foreword to The Anatomy of Melody
I’m reading a fascinating book right now: Around the World in Eighty Games by Marcus Du Sautoy. In it, he explores the history (and the mathematics, sometimes) of games from across history and culture. In his Chapter Zero, he says “Some have argued that our species should be called homo ludens rather than homo sapiens because it is the ability to play, not think, that has been crucial in our development.”
He later writes:
What makes a great game? First it should finish before it’s even started. Even if you’re not as good as your opponent, there should still be a chance that you can win. Second, it mustn’t finish before it ends. The best games are those in which, right up to the last move, there remains a chance that anyone could win. This means that the best games invariably include an element of chance. And yet, third, chance alone is not enough. There should be some role for strategy and agency, or else the player is converted into little more than a machine for implementing the rules of the game. Fourth, simplicity should give rise to complexity. Simple rules allow you to get playing quickly, but the variety provided by multiplying possible outcomes makes a game worth returning to again and again. Fifth, a good story is paramount. No need for castles and goblins, but still, like a good piece of mathematics, a rewarding game traces a compelling narrative ark.
Marcus Du Sautoy, from Around The World in Eight Games, Chapter 1
Now re-read that chapter but replace game with music-making. Does it feel as compelling to you as to me? Great music-making is open to all. Great music-making continues to surprise to the end. Great music-making is not the rote repetition of the last performance. Great music-making creates incredible complexity from simple beginnings. Great music-making tells a story, whether explicit or implied.
Approach every rehearsal, every performance, as if it’s the best of all games.