Understanding music theory as a composer

Music theory is many things. I hold what I think is a somewhat overlooked view: that theory is more about the student than about the music itself, because music, in the end, is something that happens in people.

Daniel Fladmose holding a tablet showing an orchestral score, stylus in hand, reading the notation closely

Composition theory: going behind the rules.

We use harmony, counterpoint, analysis, form, orchestration and notation to understand what the student is actually perceiving, expecting and imagining — and how musical material creates balance, tension, direction, clarity, weight, colour and effect.

Theory should not ask the student to obey inherited formulas from the outside, but to understand why a musical principle makes sense: what problem it answers, which mechanisms it reveals, and what kind of musical complexity it belongs to.

Sometimes we need a rule, a term or a historical concept. More often, we need to understand the musical psychology behind it: what kind of listening it describes, and how it overlaps with the tonal, formal or expressive problem inside the student’s piece.

Sometimes a rule is useful. Sometimes it is only a name for something the student has not yet learned to hear. In lessons, theory should clarify the musical problem, not replace the musical imagination.

Leaving the ship for unknown islands.

Abstraction is one of the most important skills a classical composer can have. Early on, especially, students tend to settle into one way of writing that feels comfortable — and that comfort is one of the most common reasons a composer moves too slowly, or runs into a block. Theory opens a door onto the fact that there are other ways of thinking music than your own.

To find them you have to leave your ship and visit islands and continents you did not know were there. None of it is wasted: what you learn stays aboard when you sail on, and you begin, consciously or not, to compose with a finer pen. I have never seen a student harmed by being able to write in the style of Haydn, or Bach, or Bruckner — quite the opposite. And for many it confirms that such a style is not their own, which is its own valuable discovery.

Theory is not only thinking, knowing and recognising patterns. Just as much, it is getting your hands dirty and doing the work. Counterpoint, for instance, is as much about commanding a musical line as about holding a complexity in view — it is composition’s strength training. You will be grateful for the rest of your life that you can read a score more easily, take in a new idea, criticise it, and teach. And there is a side-benefit that matters more today than ever: concentration. Being able to put the phone away and stay inside the work for a long stretch is, for a composer, everything.

A small paper sailing ship on staff-paper lines, setting out toward torn-paper islands — theory as leaving the familiar for the unknown.

Even the driest material opens, if you are curious.

I do not teach theory for conventional reasons, but to throw light on the elementary parts of composition. And I will say it plainly: if you are curious and willing, I can promise you that even the material which seems driest at first will open into real enthusiasm — and into a deeper understanding of how music actually works.

How lessons work.

Most theory lessons begin from a concrete piece: the student’s own, or a chosen example. We work from the actual sound and notation outward, not from a textbook chapter inward.

Online theory lessons usually take place on Zoom. We can share the score on screen, mark passages, listen, compare versions and look at notated examples together. When I annotate something during the session, the edited PDF can be sent afterwards.

Students can send homework in advance, preferably as PDF, so we can look at it together during the lesson. For small groups or classes, online teaching can sometimes work even better than a physical room, because everyone can follow the same score or example closely on their own screen.

Throughout a course of lessons I can also share free material to read, so there is something to study between sessions.

More about how online lessons work

Daniel Fladmose is an outstanding composition teacher. He always has insightful observations. He has helped me grow as a composer by guiding me in exactly the right direction and encouraging me to develop my own musical voice.

Bertram E. Larsen · Google review Read on Google

Practical questions.

Why does music theory matter for a composer?

Early on, many composers settle into one comfortable way of writing, and that comfort is a common cause of slow progress or a block. Theory opens the door to other ways of thinking music — you leave your own ship for a while and visit islands you did not know were there, and what you learn stays with you when you sail on. It is also composition’s strength training: it lets you read a score faster, take in an idea, criticise it, and concentrate for longer. Even discovering that a style is not your own is a valuable result.

Can I learn theory on my own, or do I need a teacher?

In the earliest stages you can certainly learn a good deal on your own: what a syncopation is, which strings a viola has, what a triad is. But theory quickly becomes a mirror of the student — what matters is your interaction with the material, not the finished exercise. This is where a teacher earns their place: making sure a rule is never applied before you understand and can explain why it exists, and challenging that understanding as you go. On your own, this is very hard to see in your own work.

Is this theory in the traditional sense?

Harmony, counterpoint, analysis, form, orchestration and notation are all part of it. But theory here is not approached as a separate school subject. It is treated as a way to understand what is happening in the music — and why a technical choice changes what a listener hears and feels.

Do I need to know theory already?

No. Theory can begin from where you are, including from quite basic listening and notation. What matters is whether you want to understand what is actually happening, not whether you can already name it.

Can theory be its own focus, or only inside composition lessons?

Both. Some students come specifically to work on counterpoint, harmony, orchestration or analysis. For others, theory enters lessons when the music asks for it. The format depends on what you want.

Which kind of counterpoint should I choose?

No two students are alike, so the answer is not the same for everyone. Palestrina and Bach counterpoint suit many, but for composers early in their development the text-setting that fills so much of Palestrina can be overwhelming, and Bach’s complexity is hard to begin with. Here Fux counterpoint is a fine hybrid of vocal and instrumental writing: it does not have Palestrina’s cantabile rigidity, but works within what I would call a psychoacoustic cantabile — melodic rules rooted in how lines live in the mind rather than how they are literally sung. Haydn and Mozart studied Fux’s textbook as children, and Beethoven wrote a new preface to it. It really is proven by test.

Are there separate pages for counterpoint, harmony or orchestration?

Yes — dedicated pages for counterpoint and harmony, and for orchestration, are in preparation. Until they are published, the topics are part of this page and can be arranged by writing to me.

Other ways to work together.

Tell me what you would like to understand more clearly.

You can begin with a concrete question, a passage you cannot get past, or a more general wish to understand how music actually works.

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