If I were to put together African drum music, ancient Chinese music, Indian ragas, and Bach's fugues, an alien would most likely perceive all of them as "ethnic music" from Earth.

However, in formal music education, Bach belongs to the category of "required courses," while most of the others fall under general education classes like "ethnomusicology" or "world music."

Even today's "music conservatories" are essentially "vocational training institutions for European classical music (especially the German-Austrian tradition)." We spend four years studying harmony, counterpoint, and musical form—all of which are rooted in the specific aesthetics of a particular period (1750–1900), a particular region (Western Europe), and a particular social class (aristocracy/middle class).

What exactly did European classical music do right that allowed it to shed its own "ethnic" label and usurp the position as a synonym for "music"?

In fact, much of the current musicological research—covering topics like gender, class, and race—has already partially explained this phenomenon. For example, the construction of the "canon," the monopoly of the middle class, and the deliberate guidance of authoritative textbooks like *The Norton Anthology of Western Music*. But I still feel this explanation is incomplete and only scratches the surface.

I would really like to know the complete process behind this. Are there any relevant studies? Or does anyone have their own thoughts that we could discuss together?

Hi friends on Reddit. I'm working on an article that sits at the intersection of music, culture, and intellectual history. Lately, I've been wrestling with a question: why does music so often get saddled with moral weight beyond its aesthetic qualities at different historical moments?

Why, when society confronts youth death, mental breakdown, violence, loss of control, and inexplicable pain, is there always a desire to first hold some kind of sound accountable?

The short essay below is a condensed version of a longer piece I'm writing. The full version will be more detailed, with rich illustrations, covering Plato, Augustine, the Soviet anti-"formalism" campaign, Nazi "degenerate music," the PMRC, and how feminist musicology has steadily pushed moral interpretation into the very fabric of music.

If you're willing, I'd also love to know: do you think music keeps being moralized because it's genuinely dangerous, or because it's simply too convenient a vessel for society's anxieties?

（I am not a native English speaker, please forgive my machine-translated English.）

In 1991, an American mother sued Ozzy Osbourne and related record companies, claiming that "Suicide Solution" had induced her sixteen-year-old son Michael Jeffery Waller to take his own life. The court ultimately dismissed the claim, but the question truly worth asking has never been whether a song can be legally held responsible for a death—rather, why does society always want to put music on trial?

Because music has never been merely an aesthetic object. As sound, it certainly has no inherent moral quality; a chord cannot commit a crime, nor can a melody be inherently noble. But music is never just sound. It always emerges within specific social relationships, governed by the state, exploited by religion, packaged by the market, feared by families, and used by young people to express desire, identity, and rebellion.

This moral suspicion of music began long ago. Plato worried that wrong music would shape wrong people, while Augustine feared that what he loved was not divine truth but the sensory pleasure of sound itself. In modern times, this fear has not disappeared—it has merely changed its targets and justifications.

In the Soviet Union, music that was complex, obscure, and difficult to popularize was criticized as "formalism," because the state needed music to demonstrate a clear, progressive, and healthy collective order. In Nazi Germany, jazz, modernism, Jewish composers, and Black music were lumped together as "degenerate music," as if non-conforming sound itself posed a threat to the health of the community. In the 1980s United States, the PMRC packaged popular music as a trigger for adolescent moral decline and promoted the subsequent Parental Advisory labeling system.

This history does not prove that music is inherently guilty—quite the opposite. It shows that the same sounds can be labeled as noble, dangerous, honest, or pathological within different systems. What truly possesses moral direction is often not the sound itself, but those who interpret it; society first decides what it fears and what order it wants to maintain, then turns around and demands that music bear witness for it.

So what is really being sent to the gallows is not just a song, but society's unmanageable fears, desires, loss of control, and pain. People appear to be discussing music, but in reality, they are using music to judge the very things that unsettle them most.

I am a music history scholar from China, and I have been pondering a question recently. I would like to hear the perspectives of those who are situated within the native classical music cultural sphere.

We often ask: Why are there almost no women in music history?

But the more I think about it, the more I feel that the truly worth-asking question might not be "whether women created music," but rather: What kind of people and what kind of musical activities are deemed eligible to be included in "orthodox music history"?

If a music history primarily records:

• Music that takes place in public spaces
• Narratives centered on composers and their works
• Works that can enter the realms of publication, academia, concert halls, and the standard repertoire

Then many people are excluded from the very beginning. Women are certainly the most obvious category, but it may not be just women. Those who were primarily active in the home, salons, teaching, the church, or who could never gain entry into the academic system are also more likely to become "background" rather than "historical subjects."

So now I increasingly feel that the problem may not be "why are there no female composers," but rather: Why have the people written into orthodox music history long been a small group of privileged individuals? Is this purely a historical fact, or does the standard of "what counts as important" inherently carry bias?

I am very curious about everyone's views on these questions:

1. Do you think the problem with classical music history is mainly that "many people have been omitted," or that "the screening criteria themselves are biased"?
2. If performance, teaching, salons, and domestic music-making were also seriously taken into account, to what extent would music history be rewritten?
3. When did you first realize that the "classical music canon" was actually selected, rather than naturally existing?

刚刚开始上班，是高中做音乐老师，工资有限，想自己发展一些属于自己的副业，音乐方面会钢琴和声乐，也会一点点摄影。总之也做过很多的尝试，但都不知道怎么变成一种收入来源，有没有已经成功的小伙伴能分享一下你是如何开始的呢？

I grew up in a largely non-religious environment in China. However, I recently listened to Mahler's Eighth Symphony and was deeply moved by its religious undertones, which has left me curious about what faith means in daily life.

In my upbringing, before the age of 18, the only belief I had was in exam scores—because they could get me into a good university and secure a decent future. But after I got into university and found a job, I realized that the belief in scores and performance had vanished, leaving me feeling adrift, unable to find something worth pursuing.

For those of you who are religious, what has faith brought to your personal life? Has it changed the way you deal with hardship, relationships, the meaning of life, or inner peace?

I’m asking sincerely, not to start an argument or convince anyone. I just want to understand real experiences, hoping it might shift my current understanding of life. Thank you for sharing!

I’m a non-native English speaker, and this text was translated by GPT. If anything comes across as offensive, it’s not my intention. Please forgive me!