Did you ever notice that when you read an essay, whether it is by a respected musicologist or by the worst student in your "Introduction to music" course, that the writer - as a personality - seems to want to stay away as much as possible from the topic? He or she will use the term "one" instead of the perpendicular pronoun (I), or create some mythical 'character' to lead you, as Virgil did to Dante through the nether-regions, to make you think their opinion, as expressed in their writing, is actually not their opinion, but fact.

I wonder where this all came from. Who told us that our opinions are not worth claiming, like some Dickensian orphan? Lately, I have been using the word 'I' so much in my own writing, that I am beginning to worry about myopia (i.e. Are my I's too close together?) Nevertheless, since I am saying what I want to say, I have trouble understanding why I should eliminate it. And yet, opening up a copy of JAMS at random, I find I am conversing with someone who describes herself as "we" in one case, as the first-person omniscient (similar to the Unknown God of the Athenians - "it is clear, then...") in another, and my favourite, "one" in a third.

Why would the author of a discourse, an art fundamentally based on a clash of personalities, try to take his/her own personality out of her/his writing? I have seen writers try to sneak themselves into the text by means of the [sic]-joke. This is the nefarious ploy of quoting some (usually un-socially-hip) fogey, who says "he" when he means "he/she" and then sneaking in [sic] after each appearance of the offending pronoun. "Tsk, tsk", s/he is saying, hiding beneath the cloak of authorial judgement like Wagner hiding beneath his wife's petticoat in 1848. "One should know better than to speak like this; one should have known that one's words would be twisted many years later, so that one (the author) can show oneself to be superior in moral and gender rectitude than one's predecessor."

This kind of authorial appearance, wraith-like, is irksome to my idea of discourse, not because s/he is wrong, but because s/he is cheating another of his/her voice. The [sic]-joke creates an anti-character, one who corrects errors in others, but says nothing her/himself. This character is like a professor correcting student papers. If an author denies her/himself, does s/he have the right to criticize others for their presentation?

Discourses in Music has always sought voices who speak in many different ways, voices who speak about South Asian tabla and Canadian identity, who discuss musical hegemony from within and without. Discourses in Music sits here in Toronto, knowing full-well that you may be sitting in Jakarta reading this, in Jalalabad or Cambridge, in Denver or Pretoria, that you have a different geographical reference-point, a whole different series of values informed by any number of social, economic, educational or linguistic variables.

But do we express your feelings? Really? We try to express our feelings, and to evoke a reaction in you, that you will be prompted to express your feelings in the form of an angry email (to editors@library.music.utoronto.ca/discourses-in-music/index.html) or in the form of a paper for publication (same address), or as a respondent to one of our articles.

Have you noticed the format of this journal? Did you know that publication is important to your career? Did you know that I am always looking for people from around the world - especially from countries far from my own, to argue with, to talk with, to discuss music with, and to reach a new understanding of what constitutes music with?

It is true that I sit here in the cold, in April, wondering why Estonians like Arvo Part so much; I wonder what it is about Osvaldo Golijov's "St Mark Passion" that resonates with me, or why the tabla is so much less respected in Pakistan than in India. I wonder why Meyerbeer is neglected and Puccini is overplayed and misunderstood, why Gretry's "Richard Coeur de Lion" and Cherubini's "Lodoiska" rescue operas never reach the stage while Beethoven's "Fidelio" is constantly on the boards, despite its obvious faults. I wonder what it is about Salsa that resonates with Americans, or why Eminem writes so cleverly but speaks so obnoxiously. And the only way I will ever understand many of these questions is through discussion with you, you the person who knows the answer to these questions, to my queries, and my confusion.

So here is the Oracle: the future of this discipline demands that you think, that you write and that you are heard. In a musical world, the unheard are un-noted (in at least two different ways). Our new edition of Discourses in Music features an article from Jamie Younkin, from Florida State University, and one from Jay Hodgson from McMaster University. We have two reviews of new books, and a response to Alexander Carpenter's Schoenberg article by Achilles Ziakris from the University of Toronto. And they are all well-worth reading. I hope you enjoy our new edition, because next year there will be four editions!