How does one at the time of his life with a mortgage, 2 kids, a full-time teaching gig, and not finished with a master’s degree feed and nourish the musician inside? Easy – just deprive yourself of sleep and lunch breaks and get serious about writing some music. Throughout the last nine years, I have invested a significant amount of time experimenting, listening, sketching, and composing which has produced some pretty good results. Reflecting back upon this personal musical commitment, I strongly believe that the works I have produced represent an area of tremendous growth as a musician, educator, conductor, and composer.

The one thing I am more aware of now in the creative process is the exchange of information between the unconscious dimension and conscious dimension. In interviews with eight composers who have demonstrated an interest in understanding the subtleties of the creative process, Lapidaki (2007) indicates that the role of the unconscious is vital to composers as they seek to begin or complete a musical composition.  Rollo May suggests that there is an unconscious dimension of experience, and that “there is a kind of battle between what consciously the composer thinks and some perspective that is struggling to be born” (May, 1975, 59).  Although it is an important part of the initial creative process, the exchange between the subconscious and conscious dimensions allows the composer to create a well-crafted musical product in a number of different ways.

Despite differences in the sequence of events in the process, I have discovered there are some commonalities that have revealed themselves within the act of composing music.  A period of evaluation and exploration of the musical material, improvisational sessions utilizing different instruments and the human voice, and consideration and research of programmatic elements all consistently have become part of the creative process as I begin writing a piece of music.  I do keep a series of sketchbooks facilitate to assist in evaluation and exploration of material, and some highly private improvisational sessions are not far behind. I will sit down and actively engage with the material, but there are some ideas that are expanded, as Quincy Hilliard shared with me, “during periods of transition”. I do some of my best work weeding, mulching, shoveling snow, and mowing the grass. A former student joked with me a future piece may include seven percussion parts including a running lawn mower to be started at the beginning of the work like the gong in the Pines of Rome!

Those activities may persist through each foray of writing a new piece of music, but, as W. Francis McBeth shared with me many years ago, the time I spent within the music, the sounds I have selected, and the form that I wish to utilize will be an important part of the entire process. There is a reason why Jack Nicklaus was great – he worked at it consistently with high expectations. The writings of Bennett Reimer have assisted in focusing this goal, and the criteria of sensitivity, imagination, and authenticity he sets forth for judging quality in music I believe to be important additional aspirations besides craftsmanship to convey in the finished musical product (Reimer, 1991).  The entire creative process is full of intimidating questions that can only be answered over a period of time in which I am able to allow my aural imagination to envision a new work that will have unity, identify in some way with the music that has come before it, and refine the expressive power found within the sounds I have chosen so that the end result is an authentic musical experience for all who choose to engage with that music.

There is a multi-level relationship I must acknowledge that has developed between my roles as an educator, conductor, and composer. The benefits and rewards of being able to teach music from the perspective of an educator and conductor are deeply enhanced by drawing upon my experiences as a composer.  As analysis and preparation of a score of music begins, I am now able to take into account the composer’s intent in development of a musical phrase or his choice of orchestration. There are obvious technical limitations with each grade level of music that dictate melodic, rhythmic, and expressive choices to a composer as they score music for an ensemble.  My engagement in composition has allowed me to more easily recognize how those technical limitations have been distributed to the ensemble and their importance within the piece’s melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and expressive hierarchy.

By having a better concept of these elements, I am able to plan and pace instruction with the ensembles more efficiently, and can also share this insight with the students so they are able to place their individual part into a greater context and begin making an authentic connection with the music. I have discovered that my engagement in composition has made me more confident and selective in seeking, researching, internalizing, and teaching unfamiliar music.  It has further opened my aural music senses to recognizing connections and relationships among the different elements of familiar pieces that were previously not identifiable.

In a similar way, I have experienced growth in my skills as a conductor because of new connections realized between the writing and teaching of music.  The role of the conductor is a critical one for any ensemble, as that role is generally entrusted with the responsibility of communicating the intent of the composer.  Hilliard (Camphouse, 2007, 100) shares this view that was first brought to light by one his teachers:

One of my teachers, Richard Bowles, stated that to become a good conductor on should study composition and to become a good composer, one should study conducting.  Once the conductor understands how the piece is constructed, he or she becomes a quasi-sound engineer, responsible for adjusting balance, intonation, and blend to produce the correct colors.  The conductor becomes the interpreter, recreating the composer’s feelings.  The passion of music comes from understanding the composition, enjoying it, and getting the players to reproduce those feelings so that the audience has an emotional, aesthetic experience.

My role as a conductor has been expanded as I consider how to communicate the intent of the composer to students within the ensemble.  The technical demands that are found within the structure of any piece do affect the manner in which the piece will be explored, and it will also affect the physical craft of conducting utilized to lead the ensemble in its recreation.  Reflecting upon the demands of this musical role, I feel it would be appropriate for any conductor to consider the criteria Reimer (Reimer, 1991) uses for judging quality in music, and apply those same criteria to the interpretation and communication of music.  I pose the following four questions as it relates to the interpretation of music by conductors:

1. Are we seeking a creative bond that shows our respect for the materials used to fashion the music we seek to recreate? (Craftsmanship)

2. Have we considered the full expressive potential of all materials present in the music and the expressive potential of the students? (Sensitivity)

3. Can we envision the best possible solution to allow the music to profoundly awaken our emotions and those who would perceive it? (Imagination)

4. Will we devote ourselves to engaging with the finest, representative music so that the    intent of the composer is accurately and fluidly merged with our interpretation? (Authenticity)

These questions are not meant to limit a director’s choices in terms of culture, style, or time period, but provide some guide points in the act of considering literature from diverse sources. It also affords me some guiding thoughts in the compositional process how I might write music that will speak more readily to performer and conductor, and hopefully translate to the audience as well. This interchange of ideas and perspectives between the roles as educator, conductor, and composer continues to evolve and expand as there are considerations and contributions from new personal experiences. I haven’t conducted my best concert yet, taught my best day, or even written my best piece yet. But I always feel like I am getting closer and the act of composing helps me fill my role as a music educator.

References

Camphouse, M. (Ed.). (2007). Composers on composing for band.  Chicago: GIA Publications.

Lapidaki, E. (2007). Learning from masters of music creativity.  Philosophy of Music Education Review, 15(2), 93-117.

May, R. (1975). The courage to create. New York: W.W. Norton.

Reimer, B. (1991) Criteria for quality in music.  In R.A. Smith & A. Simpson (Eds.), Aesthetics and arts education (pp. 330-338). Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

The most pervasive musical element in term of correct interpretation by both composers and conductors was in regard to tempo.  Other commonalities existed across both conductors and composers (notably by Barnes, & Camphouse) including utilization of recordings, becoming familiar with a score through a secondary instrument (piano or voice were mentioned frequently), and that over time our interpretation of a piece may change because of new perspectives or personal experiences.  It would seem to me that the process by which one learns a score varies widely across known experts in the band world, and is a highly personalized decision based upon your pedagogical training.  Choices of meter, key, and tonal and rhythmic patterns are sufficed to say objective, but in matters of overall general expressive musical elements, tempo seems to be a common focus because of the great variability for which it can possess.  It is interesting to note that a number of conductors and composers both concede that a performance tempo can differ from the ideal (marked tempo in the score), and that the adjusted tempo of the performance can still result in a quality or reputable performance.  In some cases it is a matter of ensemble technique that will prevent an ensemble from being able to achieve the demands printed in the score, but it is obvious in the writings that conductors and composers acknowledge this and are able to recognize when other elements are brought to the best possible quality which contribute to effect interpretation.

Another commonality that seems to exist across many of the composers and conductors is they concede that there is a limit to what musical notation can convey, and at times there are ambiguities that may not make sense during score study.  Hopefully these moments of questions and uncertainties can be answered by the director as he looks at the work he is studying, compares it with other known pieces by the same composer, and compares the current piece against stylistic practices of the time or pieces of similar musical structure.  I believe it is worth noting that here that this process the conductor is going through for just one piece of music is not so far removed from the idea of comprehensive musicianship whereby the musician immerses him/herself in studying music from multiple perspective, each perspective contributing to a greater understanding of a larger picture. Andrew Boysen Jr.’s (Camphouse, 2007, p. 11) comments perhaps summarize the idea best as he asserts that the notation in the score should support the conductor’s musical decisions.  It follows that the performance is the very best attempt by an ensemble and conductor to represent what they believe to be the composer’s intent.

Flexibility as it relates to letting the music “live in a certain place” as Giroux states (Camphouse, 2004, p. 80), gathering insight from the ensemble not previously considered as Kirchoff suggests (Williamson, 2008, p.53), and, as Hunsberger observes, understanding each ensemble has an “optimum tempo” (Williamson, 2008, p.37), also seems to an important aspect of interpretation.  The modern conductor must have in his arsenal of abilities an understanding to be flexible as his perspective may change while working on a piece with his own students, but find a new perspective when asked to conduct the group of a colleague or an honor ensemble.  Getting back to the idea of tempo, both the music and the ensemble must find the tempo at where they can ideally perform.  I believe this is the reason why at times pieces are adored by one ensemble, and despised by a group 12 miles away – optimum performance tempo of the music and the ensemble do not converge.  Part of this problem may be related to that, but it might also have to do with directors being afraid to vary from the printed score even when it might be more educationally sound to do so (emphasis added, duplicity implied).  A discussion for another day – but this isn’t math or science with one right answer – and some directors are chasing a trophy  on the wall and it is easier to play it safe.  While McBeth and Giroux go as far to say that composers are sometimes indicating the wrong metronome markings they include on a score, Camphouse and McBeth agree with Jack Stamp that composers are not always the best interpreter of their own work.  James Barnes recounts a story about Verdi and Toscanini that is a reminder that one’s inner musician is critical for a conductor’s interpretation that is truly “in the spirit” of the composer’s intent.  Jack Stamp (Miles, 1998) discovered during his college experience that although Stravinksy was held in high regard compositionally, others did not feel he was the best interpreter of his own work!

The final aspect of interpretation that seems to be a shared concern of importance between composer and conductor is that of feeling, emotion, and passion.  To a degree, many of the composers explicitly mention important aspects of feeling, expression, and emotion in the interpretation of their work.  No matter what reason a composer decides to put “pen to paper”, their works are a product of their experiences, beliefs, surroundings, and creative ideas – and those experiences are at times attached to significant feelings, emotions, or expressions.  As stated by my friend and colleague Dr. Joseph M. Pisano, a composition conveys a concrete thought such as the liberation one’s country, an emotional thought such as the liberation of one’s heart, or a spiritual thought such as the liberation of one’s soul.  The composer is literally molding a conceived idea or a feeling into a sonic musical existence.  The passion of music becomes interpreted correctly when the conductor understands and enjoys the music, and is able to get the students in the ensemble to “reproduce those feelings” as Hilliard states (Camphouse, 2007).  Sam Hazo’s experience with Paul Thornton’s band demonstrates the importance of connecting the music to the lives of the students.  Paula instructed her students to write a meaningful life experience to the sound of the music in the margins of their music – it created in every student a way to connect their life stories to the music in which they were engaged in performing.  I would be interested in knowing just how many of those little anecdotes written by her students were emotionally charged or connected.  Robert Sheldon states that in order to convey passion (emphasis mine), a conductor must possess technical means and the wherewithal and self-confidence to do and say whatever is necessary to get the ensemble to respond (Camphouse, 2002). Frank Ticheli shares that the conductor must find meaning in the work, and believe in it passionately (emphasis mine) (Camphouse, 2002).  When asked about it, Mark Camphouse’s opinion is that “Passion (emphasis mine) comes from believing in the music long before a conductor ever steps on the podium…If a conductor has passion for the art of music and for playing great literature, his performance will have passion…” (Brown, 2001, p. 13).

Many conductors have written about helping the ensemble recreate or realize the interpretation of the composer’s intent, and rarely do they discuss a performance that was devoid of feeling, emotion, or passion if it was achieved.  Can we forgive a less then perfect performance that lacks emotional expression? My feeling is that many would agree yes.  I am not saying technical accuracy and precision may be tossed out – they are part of our responsibilities as educators to ensure that students have mastered.  But we might also be aware that there is another side that is beneficial for the student to experience, and that through our own authentic interpretation we may be able to unlock the emotion, passion, and feeling in music for the benefit of our students (Help them find the love!).  As Craig Kirchoff (Williamson, 2008, p. 54) states so eloquently, “Without such passion, there is no communication…and not even any real music.”

Brown, J. S. (2001). Mark Camphouse creates music with the passion of a performer. The Instrumentalist, 56 (6), 12-15.

Camphouse, M. (Ed.). (2002). Composers on composing for band (Vol. 1).  Chicago: GIA Publications.

Camphouse, M. (Ed.). (2004). Composers on composing for band (Vol. 2).  Chicago: GIA Publications.

Camphouse, M. (Ed.). (2007). Composers on composing for band (Vol. 3).  Chicago: GIA Publications.

McBeth, F. W. (1992). Interpretation: Unlocking the drama in music. The Instrumentalist, 47 (5), 14-18.

Miles, R. (1998). Teaching music through performance in band (Vol. 2). Chicago: GIA Publications.

Williamson, J. E. (2008). Rehearsing the band. Galesville, MD: Meredith Music Publications