On Children's Music as Art

[From the Winter 2025 issue]

We've all been there.

You meet someone at a party. You let slip that you’re a musician. Their ears perk up as they picture you rocking Massey Hall. You're suddenly cool. They press for details. You add the qualifier: “Children’s.” “Ah,” they deflate. It's not that they don't think you’re cool; thanks to Golden Age nostalgia and universally beloved Freds (Rogers and Penner) and their universally beloved sweaters, Children’s Music still has some cultural cachet. Your new acquaintance, nevertheless, can't help but think about you differently once they’ve heard the qualifier. They still consider you a musician because you can technically do the thing, but they've mentally differentiated between musician and artist and moved you from one column to the other.

In the Age of Baby Shark, there is a perception that the songs we make are more consumer product than creative project. When so much of what people experience is "content," rather than art, a stubborn notion persists that what we do is a shallow imitation of art, like so many paintings in hotel rooms.

But what exactly is art?

Of course it's a subjective question, as any visit to a modern art exhibit will attest. But there are conventional ideas around what constitutes art, and Children's Music is often perceived as not meeting the criteria. But is that a fair assessment? Let's look at a few tenets of this conventional wisdom and see what Children's Music has to say about it.

Function: There is an assumption that "true" art is "art for art's sake." The function of art is to be art. Any additional purpose, any ulterior motive, undermines the artistry. Conversely, much (but not all) Children's Music is eminently functional. It's meant to teach concepts. To inculcate values. To accompany daily tasks. And there's an assumption that if something is functional it can't be art.

But the categories have never been so watertight. Schindler's List had a message. Diego Rivera's murals were ideological. Frank Lloyd Wright's buildings were beautiful and functional. No one would say these things were not art.

It is true that being too heavy-handed with a message can spoil the appeal for grown-ups (and for many children, particularly as they get older). But many Children's Musicians skip the messages altogether, and many others are experts at tastefully weaving messages in. The song is the point of the song. The message is bonus. There is an artistry to writing songs that are tastefully functional. And many Children's Musicians are masters of walking that fine line.

Authenticity: To be considered an artist, a musician has to express their truest self. To be completely free from artifice. That means being vulnerable. Admitting our flaws. Putting it all on the table.

As adults writing for children, we clearly have to hold parts of ourselves back. From this, it is assumed that we are putting on a persona. That we're somehow being dishonest. Dishonesty is the opposite of authenticity, so what we're doing can't possibly be art.

I disagree. First, countless artists have put on a persona, and it has only enhanced their artistic appeal—David Bowie, Andy Kaufmann, Alice Cooper... Second, many of us are completely sincere in our writing and performing for children. True, we don't share everything with our listeners, but who does? We write from the heart. We aim to connect with listeners from the parts of ourselves that we do share with them. For me it's the absurd sense of humour that I share with my own kids. For some it's a concern for the environment. For others it's learning to deal with overwhelming emotions. For all of us, it's that childlike curiosity and creativity that we've somehow managed to hold on to. This equips us to write songs that resonate with our young listeners. It's a heart-to-heart connection through song. If that's not art, I don't know what is.

Originality: There is also a notion that true art has to be original. It has to break the boundaries, otherwise it is labelled as the antithesis of art: derivative, formulaic.

Children’s Music, inherently, has parameters. We can’t swear. We can’t broach certain topics (i.e., romantic love—which seems to be virtually the only topic on offer in most other genres). We tend to keep things simple, which, to the undiscerning ear, suggests a formula. If you believe true art is defined by its boundlessness, Children's Music might appear somewhat hemmed in.

Yet, all music has parameters. Historically, technology set limits on what could be done. Beyond that, every genre has conventions that artists tend to work within. You can’t play a bassoon in a thrash metal song, just like you can't bring a keytar to a bluegrass hootenanny. Unless you’re a genre bender like Lil Nas X, you work within certain parameters whatever type of music you’re making. Children's Music is no different.

In fact, one could argue that Children's Music is more open-ended. While most genres are largely defined by a particular set of instruments or techniques, or by a cultural heritage, Children's Music is defined by the median age of its intended audience. Thus, it's free to use any instruments or techniques. It can be jazz, rock, folk, hip hop, anything. Back in the early days of Canadian Children's Music, when the term ``cultural appropriation" hadn't been invented yet, artists drew liberally from world music in the earnest belief that it would enrich the tastes of their young listeners and expand their worldview. These days, our genre benefits from diverse artists celebrating their roots and sharing musical styles from their own cultures to children here in Canada and beyond.

Furthermore, many Children’s Musicians certainly do push the boundaries of what can be done in the genre. They find new metaphors for making complicated concepts intelligible for six year olds. They push the limits of the studio. They experiment. They introduce new sounds, instruments, ideas. You will never convince me that, for example, “Thank You Universe” by the Oot n’ oots is not art. Just listen to the thing.

Matt Robertshaw, editor