Wendelin Bitzan

When I was diagnosed with absolute pitch as a kid, I took it for granted and thought of it as no particularly remarkable capability. I was so used to be able to identify and produce pitches on demand that it astonished me to learn that others weren’t. Later during my adolescence, I more and more realised what a rare and freaky feature I had at my command. It kind of contributed to my nerdy reputation at school and was frequently mistaken for a proof of extraordinary musicianship or talent (which I was sure it wasn’t). Sometimes I even was annoyed by it, because my listening and musical experience was inextricably linked to my incorruptible pitch perception. It was just not possible to turn it off for a minute.

At university, when surrounded by a significantly higher percentage of people with similar abilities, I recognised the special challenges associated with switching between absolute and relative ways of aural perception. Demands such as listening to music in historical temperament, singing in a choir that could not keep tune, or sight-transposing sheet music posed considerable difficulties to me. I ended up in deliberately training my aural skills with respect to interrelations between separate pitches and complex harmonies, and to focus on structural aspects rather than individual elements in music. While doing so, my absolute pitch began to change and gradually became less reliable in certain contexts (especially with regard to unfamiliar sounds and instruments), but this was more than outweighed by a considerable gain in flexibility and listening strategies at hand. I also learned to adapt my ear and to perceive recordings of early music in the key in which they were meant to sound. A critical factor in this process was, so I believe, my own vocal practice in various choirs and ensembles.

During my studies, being in possession of perfect pitch was still relevant yet by no means crucial, and even though I passed every aural skills exam with distinction, I sometimes wondered what this capability was all about. It sure helped in my everyday work, providing quick and reliable tonal orientation while listening to long and complex pieces at all times, but it didn’t feel indispensable to me. After graduation, when I started to lecture in music theory and aural skills myself, it wasn’t so much a thing anymore. Students hardly ever asked me how to deal with absolute pitch, and I never felt inclined to have it served with any particular attention or methodology in my teaching. It is my conviction that relative aural skills need to be focused and cultivated as much as possible, while absolute skills, be they present or absent, do not. Consequently, I refuse to accept that perfect pitch should be of any relevance for the assessment of other crafts and musical proficiencies.