The research question posed at the outset was, 'Why do I compose?' I compose to communicate, to share and to give others a voice. I would like my music to be useful and to help shape and change lives.
In communicating through music I have a sense of capacity. Pressing here on me is whether I have the capacity to speak completely enough about ideas; ideas that underpin why I compose, and render them intelligibly. Most importantly though is my concern over the capacity to be heard. To write music that no one hears, both literally and figuratively, would be to shrivel and waste away.
Julie Giroux likes to "...compare the act of composing to building a fire." She defines "...the hearth (as) the place and the equipment, the wood (as) the bulk and sum of all your knowledge, past work experiences, training, techniques, and your whole bag of tricks, the kindling...(is the) premeditated form, structure, tonality, style and outline, and the spark (is) a little inspiration and another bag of tricks" (in Camphouse 2004, p. 67). Appreciating her analogy I am led to suggest that the spark for me is life experience; something worth communicating.
Brian Hogg, a contemporary of mine in composition and conducting in Australia, when reflecting on a review of his own works, describes the connection of his music with his everyday life: "You just sort of think, 'Yeah, I know what was happening within the family, I know what was happening at work and my life...it's a diary entry in some ways" (personal communication, October, 2006). There is the place and the equipment; knowledge and skills are available and learning plays its part, along with my own set of 'tricks'. All, though, stand in service of the endeavour to speak of that life experience, formed and framed by Kramer's (2007) "culture, history, identity, desire and meaning", and to communicate that experience to others. On occasion, there are works which are not momentous, or historically or socially significant, but in all my writing I am seeking to find a form of communicating about my life to others.
Notwithstanding some works being more utilitarian than others, my absolute desire is to share my music. It receives reasonably consistent levels of appreciation, (see the responses to the works located in the synopsis page of each) that I find quite satisfying. To have musicians engaged in playing my music across the globe, especially younger musicians, is a source of great joy. Given that my work appears on select music lists internationally, my desire to share it is being fulfilled. What is an imperative for me emotionally and spiritually is to find ways in which such sharing may make a difference for performers and listeners alike.
Referring to other considerations here it can be seen that my work can and does have an impact. My Sister's Tears, for example, does confront the listener and make them wonder. Here, and in other works, the impact often comes from the lived experience. Hogg asserts that Bright Sunlit Morning, my response to the September 11 2001 attacks on the USA, is evidence of the change my Christian conversion has brought to my music and the way it "speaks". "I think in that piece there was just more of the thoughtful deep person that I know you are, but rarely see...part of that depth within the piece came from somewhere else" (personal communication, October, 2006).
The desire to make a difference has obviously begun inside me. I am a different man to the man I was a decade ago; the man you read about in my opening story. It is almost a cliche to talk of age mellowing people and I know personally that it is not age which has changed me, but an encounter with the risen Christ.
The difference has also become evident in my music I believe. The bombast of Whirr, Whirr, Whirr!!! is still present in works such as White Noise. Yet, I sense that the transparency of scoring (as in Bright Sunlit Morning and My Sister's Tears), and the delicacy of melody found in Jessie's Well and Simple Song, have evolved. I write music to change lives as does American composer and conductor Andrew Boysen. He asserts that when he selects music to conduct "...I just want them to walk out (of the concert) having had a musical experience that changes their life" (personal communication, October, 2006). Along with Boysen, whose music has lifted and challenged me, I seek earnestly to also make a difference; to challenge young people especially, though not exclusively, to wonder, question and celebrate.
The story presented as a case study in this investigation best illustrates my position. Distilled even more now through the rumination over these considerations, I would suggest that I write music such as My Sister's Tears to have an impact on people and, in so doing, make a difference in how they perceive life and what impact life has on them.
Ellis suggests that in autoethnography there need be no conclusion; more fully, her caution is that in telling a story there can only be a summary, a tying up of loose threads or the rounding off of where one is at in that moment of completing the narrative (Music and Autoethnography Workshop September 5th, 2009). In approaching such a moment the loose threads which dangle around my story are those that inform why I compose, my overarching research question.
These threads are not superfluous or superficial; they are integral to the story. Knitting them together finishes the section, the portion of the whole that this story is. For the answer to why I compose is the answer for now; this moment in time. At another time, in my Master's work, I asserted that my compositions were, in a manner, the pursuit of my spiritual self. I suggested then that, "it may be that my music is finding and communicating aspects of my search for...spiritual understanding," (1997, p. 180), and this may still be the case to some extent.
My compositional output serves a broad community of interest from young, inexperienced musicians to professionals. I write some material to serve a pedagogical purpose and others to convey a story. Yet, when I now interrogate why I compose I find that my desire to have a positive impact on people's lives is a matter of substance for me. My Sister's Tears is a work that may well speak to those who perform it, many of whom will be in the 'at-risk' age group for suicide. In speaking to their hearts and minds the work may give cause for some to question their thoughts and motivations and for others to listen more openly and carefully to the voice of another in trouble.
Ellis provides a framework of questions that autoethnographers can ask themselves as they prepare to share their work with others. These questions offer a constructive guide in tying up the threads of my story about my compositional practice: "What is the author trying to achieve?" she asks. "Has he achieved his goals? Are these worthwhile goals? Are these goals that can be met by this writing style?" (2000, p. 275) The 'writing style' under consideration in the case study is a musical composition, complemented by a narrative text unfolding a significant event in my life. Other works in the folio do not have the same narrative accompaniment, though some have substantial journals describing intent, process and decision making. It is reasonable to argue that some of my compositions have an impact on lives, and, at times, change them in various ways. What is also evident is that this chapter of the story of my compositions has resonance with my earlier research. Some of the threads being gathered, the spiritual considerations for example, connect chapters and not just paragraphs and phrases of the story, then and now.
When considering my spiritual pursuit in my Masters, I alluded to the fact "...that my need to be an evangelist is bearing fruit in the musical rather than religious domain" (1997, p. 180). This current line of enquiry suggests that evangelism may well have become more overt, for it is now located within my Christian experience and the desire I have to change lives is one that is essential in my living of my faith.
I can hope that a life affected by suicide may well be changed by my work. My Sister's Tears may evoke a transformation in the heart of one person or a modification of policy in an institution which might not have addressed adequately the insidious impact of suicide on its members or students. At the US premiere of the work, the head of student counselling for the university in which it was presented told me she was very pleased to have such a piece played and such a matter confronted. Her suggestion was that suicide was not talked about openly enough and not discussed in a manner which was frank and transparent. The openness of the musical presentation, and all that accompanied it provoked her to consider such changes (A Journal about MST December 2005).
Ellis questions, "will this story help others cope with or better understand their worlds...does it encourage compassion for the characters?" (2000, p. 275). I answer, 'yes'! It has become a desire of mine that, in rehearsing and performing the work, musicians may have their awareness enhanced with respect to the matters it reflects upon. I would hope that the testimony of those whose voices are heard in the text-based narrative also answer her enquiry in the affirmative. The evidence available to me suggests it "does...promote dialogue (and has) the potential to stimulate social action" (2000, p. 275). It has and can continue to change lives.
Does all my compositional output have the same effect? I think not, for all my works are not likely to have as equally valuable or profound impact as My Sister's Tears has made. Suicide is a substantial and difficult issue to consider and other matters may be less significant in their effect personally and socially but, an influence may be achieved notwithstanding the moment of the work or the ensemble it is written for. Examples from the doctoral folio of compositions may illuminate what I contend here.
I wrote Jessie's Well for a high school-aged band. The musical materials portray the narrative in evocative and engaging ways. The story behind the music is presented in the score.
For some reason known only to him, a colleague thought I did not like him and that I actively worked against him and his success. This angered me no end! Much to my amazement, when my life changed at my Christian epiphany, my anger turned to sadness. What had I done that would turn a fine young musician so solidly against me? I was moved to deal with this problem but had no understanding of how I might do so. I was deeply distressed by this. (Program note from the score)
Cinque Quattro: Alla Marcia was composed for primary school band. It is a concert piece and not a programmatic work. It has no narrative-base as such, though I have invented one on occasion in rehearsing it with young musicians. I invite the young players into a union with classical music and the music they hear on film. I suggest that, "with regal tones and fanfares of trumpets this piece allows the young musician to proclaim and sing forth in a style reminiscent of Elgar, Walton and the heroic film music of recent years." (Program note from the score)
In 2003, I wrote Simple Song at the urging of a colleague, who questioned: "Why aren't there more slow pieces in three four time?" Peter Francis, who was conductor of the Queensland Youth Orchestra Wind Symphony at the time, confronted me with that issue at a music teachers' conference along with a smiling demand to write such a piece. I took up his challenge, the very next morning, and I endeavoured to write "…music (that) is slow and singing in style… (that) is plaintive and evocative in nature and…simple – a Simple Song" (Program note from the score).
Has any of this music changed hearts and minds? I contend that ample evidence has been presented to show the impact of My Sister's Tears has had. James C. Ripley, conductor and academic from Wisconsin, USA, has high praise for the capacity of Jessie's Well to impact upon young musicians at an honour band event. He told me that:
The experience of performing "Jessie's Well"...was truly extraordinary. Both for myself and the students...You could sense with the young people that they were reaching the point in their playing where they were turning from technicians and decoders to feelingful musicians. Having a work to perform such as "Jessie's Well" allowed many of those young people to experience several musical thrills (some for the first time). Thank you for such a wonderful composition.
Arguably, there is an impact my music has in changing hearts and minds but, as reflected upon above, not all works will have as vivid an impact as others may have.
"Is it useful", Ellis probes again; "if so, for whom?" (2000, p. 275). These works are useful in how they may impact positively on the player's and the listener's lives. The quantum of such an impact will vary but I believe the potential for influence is present.
Reflecting on the effect of Cinque Quattro: Alla Marcia the ensemble's conductor, as noted previously, stated that the musicians had fallen "...in love with the music...(and) enjoyed playing in 5/4..." (2004). The reviewer for Stanton's Sheet Music (USA) said of Simple Song:
Expressiveness in a young band sometimes seems like a contradiction of terms...when we come across a good teaching piece to work on the skills of legato style playing, melodic contour, and emotional peaks and valleys we almost don't believe it at first. However, Hultgren has composed that very kind of piece - a beautiful work that is easy to get in the ear... (Advertising brochure Fall 2004)
My work's usefulness here is found in its capacity to provide a means for becoming more musically expressive and, consequently, presenting the young player with an enhancement of their facility to speak through music. Whether they are "playing 5/4", or they are developing the "skills of legato style playing", the young musicians who are playing my compositions are, arguably, experiencing the "emotional peaks and valleys" of artistic sensitivity. Lisa (5th grade band member) said of Simple Song, "it's not so simple, that's why we hate it...and why we like it!"
Ellis argues that she wants "…to feel and think with the story." (2000, p. 273). Tan Beng Wee, a leading conductor of bands in Singapore, and a very dear friend, suggested that the union of heart and mind was evident for him in Jessie's Well. On the 6th of November, 2006 he wrote to me and said that
Jessie's Well has been to me the most artistically written piece of music that's graded 3 in playing difficulty…few works I've done stimulated my thoughts enough to want to write to the composer…I remembered calling you early this year to tell you how I felt quite immediately after I did a reading session with VS." (Victoria School, his secondary school band in Singapore)
"I want the two sides of my brain to be engaged simultaneously or for the text to call forth one side and then the other, back and forth, until thinking and feeling merge" (2000, p. 273). Tan's response to Jessie's Well continues and, arguably, is evidence of what Ellis suggests.
The work's structure and content have since stimulated my musical thoughts and arrested my imagination of what the work might have meant – of course with a little help from the program notes…I don't know how long you've taken to write this short simple work but it's taken me a while to deeply consider ALL that's there in the score. It's like seeking and discovering a certain truth underneath every note, phrase, texture and harmonic construction. It's been a very, very enriching musical journey for me studying the work…so captivating; I think it is divinely inspired!! (personal communication, November 6, 2006)
The conductor is engaged; the piece has "arrested (his) imagination". He is entranced and searches through the work to find meaning and significance. "After doing an analysis…I felt a need to put in writing to the composer, how much I appreciated and am humbled by the honest simplicity and evocative musical content I find in Jessie's Well" (personal communication, November 6, 2006).
Has Tan Beng Wee's life changed because of the impact of this piece on him? Have the young musicians from Central Queensland had their lives altered by being "in love" with my music and have others come into contact with "a beautiful work that is easy to get in the ear"? Though it is impossible to know the effect my music has on every individual, on every occasion, I have received enough responses to my output to suggest that much of what I compose influences those who perform it and those who receive it.
The initial aim of this project was to explain why I compose. In a sense it was about exploring what may be of value in what I do as a composer. It has been illuminating to reflect on how I compose and the manner in which the ideas and the musical dialogue leap to the page. Hopefully, finishing the tapestry by locating the loose threads now, what I have discovered is what is valuable and that which is worthy are about the everyday; the life lived by me and those who share my life. My Sister's Tears may well be an extreme example located in this folio but, nonetheless, it is one which exposes much in respect to what composing is and why it is engaged in, from my personal perspective.
The story telling here, evident in the stories of responses to my music and arguably in the music in itself, is about, as Karen Scott-Hoy asserts, "'ordinary' people" (Beautiful Here: Celebrating Life, Alternative Music, Adolescence and Autoethnography, in Bartleet and Ellis 2009, p. 42) and my stories are from a man who is located in the usual and unexceptional of everyday life. My family and I feel, ache, wonder and love like all others do. We grieve as others do. The only exception is that the manifestation of my grief relates to how I live my life. I grieve as a Christian musician; I grieve immersed in my faith and lost in my music, but it is human grief all the same.
Scott-Hoy cites the great composer Beethoven on why he composes and I will be very brash and appropriate his position to describe and illuminate my own: "I have never thought of writing for reputation and honour. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason I compose" (2009, p. 39).
What I have in my heart, more so now than in any other period, is the desire to be of use to others; to help people change their lives for the better; to lift them up when they struggle; to give purpose and hope where none seems to exist – but useful am I; all I can do is write music. Yet, I am aware, that in that composing and in this discourse about it, my vulnerability and candour may give heart to another. They may never tell their story in this manner. They may just live it and make a difference.