Archive for music theory

Send In The Hemidemisemiquavers

Thanks to Australian composer, professor and fellow computer geek Matthew Hindson, I’m excited this morning to announce a version of my theory pages localized for British and Australian musicians! This is the first (and, admittedly, easiest) translated versions of Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People that are currently in progress, thanks to the efforts of an elite cadre of volunteers. If you’d like to help, we’d love to have you… let me know!

I’ve also posted a few corrections to pages in the original English (ahem… American) version. More pages to come soon!

Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People (British & Australian version)

Whoa I Guess a Lot of People Like Music Theory

Between appearing on Hacker News in October and on Classic FM last week, my theory pages have been getting quite a bit of attention, which has been fun. It made me think I should go back and make all those corrections and updates I’ve been meaning to make!

So I did… I fixed a bunch of errors on a ton of the pages across the board, and I’ve added a sheet on Species Counterpoint in Three Voices. So if you haven’t done so recently, feel free to download the latest version of your favorite page (or the whole collection so far).

More sheets are coming soon!

New Pages

I’ve finally gotten around to working a bit more on my theory review pages, and I’ve added three more pages in the Species Counterpoint section. I plan to add one more (Species I in three voices) and then I’ll move on to more twentieth-century pages. When will that happen? Maybe later today. Maybe next year! It all depends on when I can find time to do it. Hopefully soon… I really enjoy making them!

Another change is that I’m moving away from using Issuu to host the files. Issuu was the best solution way back when to host the things, because they provided unlimited bandwidth. They were a hassle on the user’s side, though, because in order to download the files you needed to create an Issuu profile and deal with their interface, which is designed more for perusing magazines and books than individual pages.

So the files are hosted on now, and I’ve left a note for Issuu followers to register here instead for updates. Maybe that’s you! If so, welcome to my incredibly underused blog!

Here’s the link: Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People

The Devil Went Down To Leipzig

In response and homage to Ryan Laney’s fugue of the same name, in which he used the famous fiddle riff from the Charlie Daniels Band’s famous song as the subject.

The Devil went down to Leipzig, he was looking for another soul
Had a date with a doc down in Auerbach’s… but he had time to take a stroll
When he ducked into St. Thomas’ church and slid down past the pews
And he came upon our boy Johann, lacin’ up his organ shoes.

“You may be surprised to hear this, boy, but I’m an organist as well.
Don’t play many hymns, but we get our grins on the pipes down there in Hell.
Now I’ve heard you play a mean Marchand, but I wager I can do you in
And I’ll stake your soul for these shoes of gold, ‘cause I think I’m gonna win.”

The boy said, “My name’s Johnny, and such deals give me pause,
But strap on your shoes, and prepare to lose, cause I’m the best there ever was.

Johnny, open up the swell box and play like never before,
‘Cause Hell’s broke lose in Leipzig and the Devil’s keepin’ score.
And if you win you get these shoes with plates of gold
But it you lose, the coffee’s goin’ cold

The Devil sat down to the manuals and said, “This here is how it’s done.”
And he pulled out the stops and made the pedals drop and contest had begun.
That band of foul demons rose up ‘round from the abyss,
And fire belched from the flues as those golden shoes lit up the pedalboard like this.

[The Devil’s organ solo]

When the Devil cadenced, Johann said, “‘Twas an admirable display,
But you’ve had your ride. Now move aside and let me show you how to play.”

“Sacred Head now Wounded.” Play, Bach, Play!
The Devil’s in the chapel on Whitsunday.
Children in the narthex singin’ “Go, Pops, go!”
Beer and sausage later and a bauernbrot roll.

The Devil cast his head down for he knew that he’d been bested.
And he paid his dues for the golden shoes down by the bench now rested.
Johnny said, “Now come on back, you hear, if you ever have just cause,
But prepare to be stunned, you son of a gun, ‘cause I’m the best there ever was.”
And he played:

“Sacred Head now Wounded.” Play, Bach, Play!
The Devil’s in the chapel on Whitsunday.
Children in the narthex singin’ “Go, Pops, go!”
Beer and sausage later and a bauernbrot roll.


As many of you know, I’ve been in the process of applying to other schools for a tenure-track teaching position. Because of this, I’ve been putting off making some changes to the way I teach my classes, figuring that upon moving to a new school, I’ll likely need to make some significant adjustments anyway.

Well, as I approach another final year here at UNC, I decided I should stop putting them off, and so students who have had me for theory or aural skills in the past will notice some fairly significant differences beginning this semester. I’ll go over these on the first day of classes, of course, but since you’re reading this, you’re obviously pretty bored, so I’ll give you a little (okay, maybe not-so-little) preview of what’s to come:
Music Theory: A Revised (But Not Really) Late Policy

As I understand it, I am fairly well-liked by students at UNC. Though I’d love to credit my rugged good looks, I know it has more to do with my homework policy, which allows students to turn homework in late and redo any and all assignments for a higher grade. The irony of this is there is enough proverbial rope there for students to hang themselves pretty easily; without the sharp teeth of an unbending deadline, students often get lazy and end up procrastinating their homework submission to the point of failing the class.
Now, I could certainly adopt a no-late-assignments allowed policy, but I don’t feel good about punishing a student because he or she happened to forget to bring a completed assignment… or (more likely) forgot the assignment was due today and neglected to get to it. I gave this a lot of thought this summer, and I think the way to solve this issue is to simply follow my own syllabus. See, this is what my syllabi say about late papers:

Homework must be turned in at the beginning of the class period on the date which it is due. Late assignments will have their grade lowered by two (2) points for each class period it is late. Assignments will not be accepted later than six (6) class periods after the due date. Exceptions will be made for unusual circumstances at the instructor’s discretion.

The thing is, for the past I-don’t-know-how-many years, I haven’t assigned late points… and I’ve allowed students to submit assignments as late as the last day before Finals Week. The reason I’ve done this has to do with bookkeeping: with papers coming at me from all directions, it’s hard for me to keep track of when something was turned in. But after yet another semester of getting close to half of the homework for the semester on that Friday before Finals Week (and none of it particularly high quality work, having been procrastinated and completed under duress), I’ve decided to solve the bookkeeping problem with technology:

I’ve always loved stamps, so bring able to justify the purchase of one of these bad boys is awesome.
So starting with this semester, homework that is submitted on the due date gets no penalty, homework turned before six class periods have passed (that’s three weeks!) gets late points taken off, and homework turned in after six class periods will get a zero. I’ll still grade it, so students can at least prepare for the final. Homework can still be redone up through the last day before Finals Week, but the late points stick.

I’ll make sure students are warned about impending due dates; I’m envisioning a chart showing due dates and late points that I’ll post online and bring to class. The goal of all this, of course, is to discourage procrastination… whether or not it helps, time will tell.

Music Theory: No More Keyboard Labs

Oh, I’m sorry, I should have made sure you were sitting down before you read that.
Keyboard Labs — computer-graded tests which involved applying theoretical principles to the piano keyboard — have been a part of the curriculum since well before I arrived at UNC. Waaaaay back when, they were given by the instructors in their office: students would come in one at a time and suffer through transcribing progressions while the prof sat there and graded their proficiency with it. When technology allowed it, these tests were moved to the Piano Lab, proctored by lab monitors, but hated only a little bit less by the students. (Probably because they could cheat on them easier. What, you think I didn’t know?) Over the last five years, as the UNC Theory Faculty has almost completely changed (Dr. Ehle and I are the only two theory faculty who were teaching here six years ago), fewer and fewer instructors are incorporating Keyboard Labs into their classes; in fact, I believe I was the only one doing them last semester.
On a practical level, I think it’s silly to pay lab monitors for an entire day of proctoring to serve only one professor’s needs, even if that professor is me. On a curricular level, our Class Piano curriculum includes most of the skills covered in these tests, and so I think it’s time to bid this long-standing institution a perhaps-not-so-tearful adieu.

To account for the portion of the course grade taken up by Keyboard Labs, I am increasing the Daily Work portion of my theory course grades to 50%, and I am going to try to have a few more graded in-class assignments to balance things out a little.
Sorry, still don’t believe it? It’s true… Keyboard Labs are dead. Yes, that means you don’t have any scheduled theory-related things on Friday! Yes, between practicing for these tests and taking them, that means you have a little more spare time than you used to. And before you get too far in planning what you are going to do with that extra spare time…
Aural Skills: Homework

Okay, wait, just hear me out on this one. Believe it or not, my goal with adding graded homework assignments to Aural Skills is to actually improve the students’ life, rather than make it more painful.
The thing with Aural Skills is that there’s only one way to get good at it, and that’s individual practice. I could spend every minute of every class period on ear training exercises and it would do very little to help the students. Why? For several reasons. First, the in-class stuff has to be targeted at the median skill level, so there are inevitably going to be some students who are bored stiff and others who are frantically trying to keep up (and spiraling into frustration). Second, there is no way to spend time on everyone’s weakest exercises; some students may need more practice with rhythmic dictation, while others may need more time on chords. Third, in-class exercises have to be rushed, and often students don’t have time to go through the entire thought process they need to before being given the correct answers. And having the answers given, no matter when it happens, makes the student approach it differently (“I’ll try this and see if it’s right” as opposed to “I better focus and really try hard so I can get a good grade”).
Of course, practicing outside of class has always been expected… I implore my students on a daily basis to this end, but let’s face it: most students don’t spend the time outside of class that they need to. I don’t take this personally — I know that most of them really do intend to spend more time on it — but college students are crazy busy, and individual aural skills practice tends to always be a weak point.
So then that brings us to the idea of somehow requiring aural skills practice for a grade, and that often takes the form of MacGAMUT or something similar. I won’t go into my gripes with MacGAMUT here (as an aural skills teacher I applaud it but as a computer interface designer it gives me wildly violent convulsions), and most other software I’ve seen tends to get pretty limited especially with the higher-level chromatic stuff. Plus, working with any of these programs is about as fun as watching paint dry. Like, really boring paint.
So what I’m going to try is homework that might be marginally fun to do: transcribing popular music. It’s going to be pretty restrictively guided transcriptions… for example, dictating the melody of a song using solfege, or notating only the rhythm of some other song. I’ll provide answer blanks that guide the student through it pretty carefully, with lots of instructions, and I’m choosing songs very specifically to match the skill level of the class. Sure, they’re going to be challenging, but it’s music people enjoy. The Beatles. KT Tunstall. Muse. Owl City. And I’ve found out how to make the music itself available through Blackboard, so there shouldn’t be any need to spend gobs of time in the lab or Music Library to do the homework.
And my intention with this homework is not to create more work, but just to structure the existing work a little more. Doing these transcriptions counts as time spent practicing your aural skills… heck, it’s the way I keep my own skills honed.
Aural Skills: No More Gigantic Exams

The other big change — and this is probably the biggest one — is getting rid of the one thing the students and I both hate the most about Aural Skills: these monumental, hour-long exams that blast into the scene like Godzilla at midterms and finals. For the students, it’s pure, concentrated pain — before, during and after the exam.
So, you know what? Bam. They’re gone.
Well, of course, I still need to evaluate the students, so it’s not that testing is going away, but why have it all crammed into one day? Fatigue plays a huge part of student’s trouble on these exams, and having everything on one day makes for a ton of preparation. Plus, if that particular day is your off-day, you’re hosed.
So I am breaking the evaluation into 9 smaller (10-15 minute) tests over the course of the semester. Each one will be over one particular skill (for example, melodic dictation) and will have a more casual feel to them. Between these tests and the four sight-singing tests we always have, every Thursday will have some sort of evaluation, but I think having everything spread out will be less overall stress (remember, no midterm and no final!) and more chances to improve one’s grade.
All Classes: More Blackboard-y Goodness

Lastly, I’ve spent the last two or three weeks really trying to work with my arch-nemesis, Blackboard (why UNC would choose an actual supervillian to provide online course management, I’ll never know) and I’m happy to say that we have come to a slightly better understanding of each other. As a result, I am not only beefing up the amount of stuff I’m posting on Blackboard (as I mentioned above, all the Aural Skills homework, with recordings, will be up there) but I have also figured out how to export my gradebooks into Blackboard without needing a ton of extra effort. The Grade Center in Blackboard will now have individual assignment grades as well as overall averages, so students will be able to see exactly where they are at, gradewise (including which assignments have yet to be handed in). I should be able to update the system after each grading session, so it should stay pretty current. Really, the only thing Blackboard’s Grade Center won’t have is the Tuition Wasted Through Absence column… but you can check with me personally if you’re worried about that one. (That, or just not skip class.)
Once More Unto The Breach
To be honest, this may be the most prepared I’ve been for a semester for a very long time, but with all these changes, I fully expect something to go haywire and need to be revised on the fly, so bear with me. Either way, I look forward to 15 weeks jam-packed with theory and aural skills goodness… starting Monday. See you all then!

A Small Gift to My Students

My dad told me a story once about when he was a boy growing up in Kansas City. One of the neighborhood kids had found out that he was related to Daniel Boone. Of course, at the time, Daniel Boone was a superstar and coonskin caps were a frequent sight in any group of kids. This boy took every opportunity to bring up his famous relative, leaving the other kids wishing that they had a famous ancestor.

Now, this particular neighbor kid eventually moved away, and after seeing the moving van drive off, my dad pointed out — for probably the hundredth time — that the boy was related to Daniel Boone, and wished aloud that he had a famous relative. It was at this point that my grandmother decided to tell him that he was, in fact, related to President Abraham Lincoln, which out-awesomed Daniel Boone by a factor of ten or twelve and which caused my father to utter in stunned disbelief, “You tell me this now?” My grandmother’s reason for withholding this precious bit of information was just what you’d expect it to be, if you had ever met my grandmother: she wanted my dad to live on his own merits, not those of some famous relation. (And that’s just as well, considering there are more than enough rogues and crooks on my father’s side to more than balance out whatever Honest Abe’s family contributed to the bloodline.)
Fast forward to seven or eight years ago, I found the source of my grandmother’s information: the obituary of my great great grandmother, Abigail Stover (neé Nave), which stated that President Lincoln was her great uncle. Unfortunately, for Lincoln to be anyone’s great uncle, he would have to have a sibling with grandchildren, and President Lincoln did not… his younger brother Thomas died at the age of three, and his older sister, Sarah Grigsby, died while giving birth to her first child, who also did not survive the birth.
My dad: “Well, they tended to embellish things a bit back then.”
So, on to the gift: another type of genealogy. The connection here is not blood, but learning. My faculty advisor for my Masters and Doctorate was Dr. Evan Copley, who retired a few years back. He studied at Michigan State University with H. Owen Reed, who studied with, among others, Bohuslav Mårtinu, on whose third piano concerto I wrote my own dissertation. Reed actually studied with several other composers of note, and of course they each studied with other great musicians, and so on.
Now, this genealogy comes, quite literally, from an afternoon spent on Wikipedia, which means 1) you can trace my steps if you like, and 2) well, the information is as reliable as anything else on Wikipedia. It is, of course, woefully incomplete; I’ve studied with many other professors, as has Dr. Copley, and so forth and so on. If this type of thing interests you, think of it as a “start.” Most importantly, don’t put much stock in this; it’s not going to mean anything on a resumé, and bringing it up to others will just make you look pretentious. My main point in doing this is to show you that it’s actually a pretty small world, and that the masters we study existed in the same world we do, even to the point of affecting us more directly than we may have previously considered.
So I give you my “Professorial Lineage”; and if you’re a student of mine, I commend it to you for further expansion downward.

(PDF, 15.9 MB)

Aural Skills is a Funny Thing

I’ve never met anyone who wanted to be an Aural Skills teacher when they grew up.

For you non-music-majors out there reading this: (First of all, why are you reading this?) Aural Skills is a set of courses that music majors are required to take, generally as freshmen and sophomores, which help them learn ear training, which is the capability to notate music that they hear; and sight-singing, which is the capability to sing a written melody that they haven’t heard or sung before. The classes are named differently depending on the college or university: sometimes they’re called “ear training” even though they incorporate sight-singing, sometimes they’re called something like “musicianship.” Regardless of what they are called, they almost always deal with ear training and sight-singing, and they are almost always hated by the students with a firey passion.
Well, you may find it interesting that the professors of the classes feel about the same way. Okay, “hate” may be too strong word, but I would wager that most Aural Skills teachers look forward to teaching Music Theory more than they do Aural Skills. The reason for that is simple: Aural Skills classes are usually taught by Music Theory professors.
Sure, that makes sense, right? After all, Aural Skills is part of Music Theory. Except for one thing: it’s not. Aural Skills is not Music Theory and never was.

Yes, the Aural Skills curriculum correlates well with the Music Theory curriculum, and it is primarily this reason that the Theory faculty usually teach the classes. But they are different disciplines. Music Theory is, as I’ve usually defined it, the art and science of figuring out why music sounds the way it does. It is the exploration of what makes music tick. Aural Skills is something entirely different: it is the development of physiological skills, both aural and oral, that are necessary for a professional musician or music educator.
So if Aural Skills doesn’t really fit in the Music Theory department, where should it be? If you go through the list, you’ll find that there is no good answer to that. Sure there are some departments — Music History, for example — where it obviously doesn’t fit. Others seem right at first until you get to thinking about them. The Music Education Department? While a music education class should cover how to teach aural skills, it doesn’t have the responsibility for teaching aural skills any more than a music ed class should teach you music theory. The Voice Performance Department? That’s probably another close fit, but aural skills is an aspect of general musicianship, and it is not specific to performance.
What about having a separate Aural Skills Department? A few of the larger schools in the country (Berklee, for example) do just that. For most schools, however, the administrative costs of having a department devoted to Aural Skills makes little or no financial sense. Plus, having a separate department also implies that you have at least some faculty whose career is specific toward that discipline, and as I mentioned above, Professors of Aural Skills are pretty hard to come by. (It’s worth mentioning that the more than a dozen faculty members in the Berklee Ear Training Department are, like most faculty at Berklee, performers.)
So what do we do? The Theory Department is probably the best place for Aural Skills, but we — students, faculty and administrators — need to realize that it is indeed a separate discipline, and should be treated as such. I wasn’t too aware of this when I first started teaching, but over the course of the last decade I’ve learned a few interesting things about Aural Skills:
  • It’s not only a different discipline, but a different type of discipline: it’s physiological (involving mind and body working together) rather than purely cognitive;
  • Research in Aural Skills pedagogy (the science of teaching aural skills) is a hugely underdeveloped field; and
  • I have come to find the stuff fascinating.

Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching theory and generally look forward to my Monday-Wednesday schedule more than my Tuesday-Thursday schedule, but I feel like eleven years of teaching Aural Skills has given me some insight that has really started to coalesce in my mind over the last few years and which I’ve been able to apply in class to the benefit of my students. I’m going to try to blog about these over the next little while (read: “very periodically over the next twelve months or more”) in preparation for a journal article or something.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll get someone so excited about it that they’d want to grow up and be an Aural Skills Teacher? Ooh… hopefully not.

Goodbye, MUS 113-170; We Hardly Knew Thee

So yesterday in our weekly Academic Area meeting we made a small change that should save a lot of grief.

For those of you unfamiliar with UNC Music Theory, here’s the deal: theory students, in addition to registering for a theory class, must also register for a zero-credit-hour lab section. This section represents Theory Keyboard Labs, which are computer-graded tests taken every Friday outside of class. The professors do not have much to do with this; while they decide which tests to give, the only other thing they do is receive and record a grade report issued by the lab proctors.
The reason for this lab section, as I have always understood it, was to account for the fact that students had a required element of the class that was scheduled separately from the actual class.
Now the real pain with this was at registration time, especially in the fall with new freshman theory students. Here is the typical exchange between me and a theory student who is finding out that he or she passed the Theory Placement Test, which allows them to skip MUS 104 and go directly into MUS 113 and 114:
Me: “It looks like you passed the Theory Placement Test. Congratulations! We recommend that you register for MUS 113: Music Theory I and MUS 114: Aural Skills I.”
Student: “Oh, uh, do I take them at the same time?”
Me: “Yes, they’re meant to be taken concurrently. MUS 113 is offered on Mondays and Wednesdays, and MUS 114 is on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You can’t sign up for either second-semester course until you pass both of these first-semester courses.”
Student: “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
(Time passes. Sometimes it’s minutes, other times it’s several days.)
Student: “Uh, I wasn’t able to register for MUS 113 and MUS 114 because it says the sections are closed.”
Me: “Right. That’s because you need to have the professor of each of those sections clear you to register. You need to choose the sections that work with your schedule, and then contact the professor and have him clear you.”
Student: “Uh, contact them?”
Me: “Yes. You can send them an e-mail, or you can just attend the class and ask the professor afterward to clear you for the course. Then you will be able to register.”
Student: “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
(Time passes again. Usually longer this time around.)
Student: “Uh, I could register for MUS 114, but I can’t register for MUS 113… it gives me some sort of error.”
Me: “Right. That’s because you need to sign up both for your regular section of the course, and for MUS 113-170; that’s a zero-credit-hour lab section you need to take.”
Student: “Oh, when does that meet? How does that work?”
Me: “Don’t worry about it yet; it will be explained in class. All you need to do right now is register for the thing. But here’s the thing; the computer requires that you register for the lab section and the regular section simultaneously.”
Student: “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
(Time passes.)
Student: “Uh, I tried to register for that keyboard lab section but it’s closed too.”
Me: “Right. And that’s because you probably need to get cleared for the keyboard lab section too.”
Student: “Oh, is that something my professor does?”
Me: “Not necessarily; it depends on whose name is on the keyboard lab section. It might be your professor, or it might be one of the other professors who are teaching MUS 113. You’ll need to ask your prof.”
Now, you may be thinking, why not just explain this all to the student in the first place? Believe me, I’ve tried.
Me: “It looks like you’ve passed the Theory Placement Test. Congratulations! We recommend that you take MUS 113: Music Theory I and MUS 114: Aural Skills I. You should register for both classes concurrently, since they are on different days and you need both to move into the second semester classes next spring. What you’ll need to do is find the sections of those courses that work for you, and then contact the professor to have him clear you to register. You can do this either by e-mail or phone, or by simply attending the class and asking the professor after the class to have you cleared. After he clears you, you will still need to register for the courses. And when you register for MUS 113, you will also need to register for the zero-credit-hour lab section, MUS 113-170, which represents Keyboard Labs, something you don’t need to worry about right now but which will be explained to you in the first few weeks of classes. The Keyboard Lab section might have a different professor of record, meaning that you might need him to clear you for that section before you can register. Once you are cleared to take both, you can then register, but the computer system requires that you submit the registration request for the regular section and the lab section simultaneously, or it will give you an error.”
Student: “Uh… what?”
So, anyway, what happened yesterday? We voted unanimously to do away with the separate keyboard lab sections entirely. The decision may need to be approved by the School of Music Curriculum Committee (I’m not sure why… it’s a registration change, not a curricular change), but hopefully they’ll be off the books by Spring.
And theory students, don’t get too excited. We’re deleting the lab section from the registration procedure, but the keyboard labs themselves will remain. And for some of you, they start this Friday! How fun for you.

The Tao of Grading Systems

Most people seem to enjoy my classes, but most of my students are in agreement regarding their hatred of the seven-point grading system I have used. I can understand their dislike for it, and I can understand the reasons. I don’t generally go into detail in my classes about the reasons for using this system, other than “it reflects the difficulty of theory department coursework.”

Well, that’s true, but it’s not the whole story, and students should rightly wonder about this when other professors are using a ten-point scale. But here’s the real purpose for the seven-point grading scale: the theory department has tried to enforce a 70% knowledge requirement as a measure for passing a theory class. That means a student should show knowledge of 70% of the material in order to pass on to the next set of classes. Since University policy is that a “D” is a passing grade, the seven-point grading scale builds this in, whereas the ten-point grading scale would allow someone to move up to the next section with knowledge of only 60% of the material.

Looking at the above diagram, imagine a student — we’ll call him Ludwig — who takes Theory II from me and earns a 63% for a final grade. If I am using the ten point scale, that means he gets a D. UNC considers a D a passing grade, so the registrar allows him to sign up for Theory III, getting around the theory department’s hope for a C or better to move forward.

Using a seven-point scale, however, means that Ludwig’s 63% translates into an F, meaning he gets to enjoy Theory II for another go-round.
Now, if the theory department were consistent about checking student grades at the beginning of each semester for every course, and dropping students who didn’t have a C or higher in each prerequisite class (yes, professors can do that!), then this wouldn’t be an issue. But that fact of the matter is that it hasn’t been consistently applied before now.
Starting in the spring, however, it will be done, and in fact the School of Music Curriculum Committee is currently looking into the possibility of having it be a registration-based requirement (i.e., students with a D in a prerequisite class would not be allowed to register for the course in URSA).
With that being the case, a seven-point grading scale would be unfair, since someone with a 74% would not be allowed to move on to the next section.
So, as of Fall 2008, I am adopting the ten-point grading scale. I know that my students will like this, because it actually represents some grade inflation (a 90%, which used to be a B, is now an A). But there is that awful drawback: A “D” is now a failing grade in theory courses.

Incidentally, this coincides with another change, which is the addition of plus and minus grades. The university is allowing individual professors to decide whether or not to adopt this system; I plan on doing so, because I think, for example, a B+ is a better grade than a B-, and the student should deserve credit for the extra work involved.
The almost humorous effect this brings into play is this: students used to hate my grading system because a 93 was the lowest “A.” Guess what: 90-92 is now an “A-.” So guess what score is the lowest A?
(Cue maniacal laughter here.)