Money, Money, Money Does money make the education world go round, asks Robert Legg Waking up on the morning of 2 May 1997, the nation had three words ringing in its ears: education, education and education. New Labour's threefold election promise of better schools, smaller classes and wider opportunities had hit home during the campaign, contributing to the biggest parliamentary majority in living memory. Excitement ran high. It was clear that reversing years of under-investment and educational mismanagement would be a gigantic task but, on that day, it felt like these problems could be swept aside just as surely as the Tory blue had been swept from the political map of Blair's New Britain.

Nine years later, the lustre of that historic victory has faded and political commentators are beginning to prophesy Tony's demise. Jostling for power, Blairites strike intricate allegiances with Brownites, whilst senior Tories, circling like vultures over an ailing animal, prepare to pick clean the cadaver.

They may not end tomorrow and they may not end this year but Tony Blair's days at Number 10 are numbered. Before he hands the reins of power to his next-door neighbour, though, there's the matter of his legacy to consider. How will history judge the most successful Labour prime minister since the war? And what contribution have his nine years really made to British society? Of course, he's hoping that it will be for his education policies that he is remembered, because it's here the most money, not to mention political capital, has been spent.

But looking back over almost a decade of New Labour rule, how have we, the music education community, benefited? And what remains to be achieved?
Whichever way you look at it, more cash than ever before has flowed into our schools. Brown's budgets have been consistent in their generosity where education is concerned and, according to official figures, spending per child increased by 39 per cent above inflation in the 10 years to 2005.

As we've come to expect, the New Labour PR machine has manipulated these facts to its advantage at every turn. Fresh announcements of previously announced funding have been used to give an unrealistic impression of the government's munificence and spending plans scheduled over several years have been misleadingly sold as cash advances for the here and now. Despite this devilry lurking in the detail, however, the prime minister has little to be ashamed of, since his spending in education overshadows anything any previous government has offered.The impact of the Blair-Brown benefaction upon music in particular is hard to judge.

Long-awaited pay awards for teachers have soaked up much of the spending. Further millions have gone towards repairing or replacing worn-out buildings. And a significant proportion of what's left has been ring-fenced for ‘initiative' and ‘strategies' such as the literacy and numeracy hours. That said, music in the curriculum has certainly benefited from extra money devolved to schools in order to buy equipment and fund new programmes of study. Many schools have used this money wisely, not only to oil the wheels of their SATs machines but also to pay for specialist music teachers and to invest in worthwhile music curricula and resources.

School music has also been propped up by the embarrassment of riches invested in information technology. Today, suites of modern computers are to be found in even the tiniest of primary schools, bringing opportunities for computer-based music making to most children. Meanwhile, the e-Learning Credits scheme, set up to enable teachers to buy software through Becta's Curriculum Online website, has made even quite sophisticated music software affordable for most schools. The result has been a move towards pop-based schemes of work, which can readily make use of this new technology. Learning about classical music has suffered. But the true orphan of the funding storm has been instrumental music making. With little investment and limited protection from the competing demands of other subjects in the curriculum, here the situation is desperate.

The DfES-sponsored Music Manifesto was launched with much fanfare in 2004. It called for free instrumental tuition for any primary-aged child who wanted it. Why? Because after seven years of Blair's Labour government, the opportunity to learn to play an instrument was available, for the most part, only to those who could afford to pay. Today the situation is much the same. At the end of last year it looked very much as if this scandal was going to be addressed. Significant funding to the tune of £30m was set aside for instrumental and vocal tuition at Key Stage 2, raising hopes that music services across the country would receive much-needed cash.

A disappointing DfES announcement in December 2005 revealed that this was not to be. Rather than directing the £30m towards music services – the providers of most instrumental lessons – it was to be distributed amongst schools themselves, leaving heads and governors to decide how best to spend it. This decision was unhelpful in at least two ways. Firstly, individual schools cannot benefit from the economies of scale available to music services, so the money will be spent less efficiently. Secondly, the lack of ring-fencing means that heads may, if they wish, redirect their modest share of the funding towards some other area of the curriculum or use it to pay teachers' salaries.

What's more, when the £30m is divided up, the average school gets about £1,000, which at the rate charged by most music services might buy a year's worth of lessons for a group of four children. However, of the total sum, roughly one pound in eight must be spent buying musical instruments. That gives the average primary a one-off cash advance of about £150 – enough to buy a single medium-sized glockenspiel. A group of 10 schools wishing to combine their spending power could splash out on a cheap piano and draw lots to see who gets to play it.
The prime minister should be asking himself the following question: how did a 10-year rise in spending of 39 per cent above inflation result in a choice between a measly glockenspiel and the equivalent of eight piano keys per school? The only possible answer is that music has been allowed to slip down the list of priorities.

Tony Blair's days may be numbered but those close to him speak of at least another year in office: 365 days, as he might put it, to save his reputation. So it's time to ditch the old slogans and adopt a new three-part motto. Find the money now; protect it for the future; ring-fence it for music.

Maybe it's not as pithy as Blair's 1997 mantra but it could be a winning formula.