I have proof that the same bloodlines run in both the College and the Con. Sophomore Brandon Grossman and his identical twin brother, Chad, are living examples. Brandon, a College neuroscience major, shares a love of music with Chad, who is a double degree voice major.

The two grew up in the same household. They shared the same parents — parents who loved to play jazz.

“We would always just go down to the basement and invent and create and try all sorts of fun musical stuff,” said Brandon.

They both took piano lessons and learned a certain amount of discipline and practice ethic. Brandon picked up the jazz saxophone while Chad sang. At one point, they were both determined to attend the Oberlin Conservatory.

But then the two roads diverged and they each picked a different path. These winding trails, however, remain within shouting distance as they cross one another on their way to destinations both grand and different.

During the last few years of high school, Brandon felt his interest in the saxophone begin to fade. Instead, he found himself more interested in folk music. The interest was less academic; however, he started out in a rather disciplined way:

“Based on my own neurosis, I just sat down with the guitar and over and over again went through the chords kind of sequentially,” said Brandon

Upon coming to Oberlin, Brandon had decided to explore other fields academically. He spent hours in the chem lab while his brother practiced sight singing for aural skills.

But Brandon did not cut music out of his life. He joined the a cappella group Round Midnight and has a band here with junior Roman Corfas, the “Little Old Ladies.”

Like many Oberlin students, Brandon recognizes the divide between the College and Con, however real or imagined. He thinks that the difference is not a conflict but simply a variation in perspective or value.

“I feel like a lot of the music that’s performed by non-Conservatory people is the type of music that a Conservatory education might not help you perform better,” said Brandon. “Bluegrass, folk, rock, indie rock are all sort of types of music that are not anti to the traditional Conservatory education but call on other aspects of artistry, like soul or lyricism.”

Certainly music played in the Con has these facets but as Brandon pointed out, the more personal, emotional aspects of music are not explicitly taught within those prestigious walls.

When asked to explain how he arrived at his decision not to become involved with the academic aspects of music, Brandon said, “It’s almost analogous to a painter who’s trying to make a living, who initially loves the art but spends so much time doing it that he feels an obligation to get involved in the business aspects of the art and then he needs it less and less, he becomes less passionate about it.”

I can certainly relate. Sitting in my music history class one morning, I listened as Professor McGuire gave us guidelines for writing our first papers. I almost panicked. I write about music regularly, but I’m not sure I know the academic language.

It was then that I realized that there really are several ways to approach the music in your life. Like Brandon, I have given up formal study — and the violin — to “mess around” on the guitar. And I find myself more connected with playing than I ever have been before.

However, I’m glad my parents, like the Grossmans’, sat me down on a piano bench when my feet still dangled high above the floor.

“In the end, I would do the same for my kids because to experience music at that young an age really becomes an intrinsic thing that you just have when you’re older. It’s automatic,” said Brandon.

Folksy Simplicity

Last summer while I was wandering the state of Maine working on hiking trails, I brought my guitar. I played in the evening, mostly old songs that I already knew, while everyone else sat about in a state of utter exhaustion. One night, I was playing the Weepies song “Somebody Loved,” and my boss decided he wanted to learn it. So I wrote down the basic chords and, despite some frustration, he was able to pick it up quickly.

“But it’s so easy,” he said, obviously annoyed that I had passed on an insignificant bit of fluff.

Well, of course I got mad and defensive and he got mad and defensive. My intended act of kindness became a continuing feud over how all my favorite songs were musically boring. While I memorized bafflingly similar chord progressions, he picked out the intricacies of rock giants such as Led Zeppelin.

Back in high school, when my musical tastes were mortifyingly different from most other kids in my small Ohio town, I listened to my share of Zeppelin — just to keep up. I won’t deny that the band does have a couple good songs. But, on my own, I discreetly drifted away into the more nebulous worlds of jam bands and then later folk-pop, deliriously happy with this music that most of the musical world likes to keep an arm’s length away.

Why do such a thing? Why waste time on such unoriginal material?

Because it’s not actually boring. Yes, the chord progressions are so predictable that my guitar is visibly worn in some areas from concentrated use. I’m not trying to hide it. But there’s a reason that those chords are used over and over again. They sound good.

It’s the poetry that attracts me. Or the way some artists can write lines that feel like they’ve come out of my own head, I know the ideas they express so well.

The really great thing about folk songs is their accessibility. Folk music can be easily shared by the so-called “experts” as well as amateurs. It’s the foundation for campfire circles, and more generally, it’s a connection between one human being and another.