Composition

Number three in my little series of how I use music for my own therapy is composition. I'm not going to lie to you, I'm very glad that this one happened when it did. Why? Because I can do a shameless plug! I'll be playing an acoustic show with a friend and opening up for another band, call Mike Mains and The Branches. We'll be doing some covers, but more exciting will be a few of my original compositions. The show is the 19th of July (this Tuesday) and, if you're in or around Mason City, IA this week, you should check it out. Free show and Mike Mains and the Branches are fast becoming one of my favorite summer bands.

Now to the task at hand. Composition is a hard subject to write about because you can take it in so many directions. You can write about the technical aspects, such as chord progressions, rhyming schemes, or melodic contour and dynamics. You can discuss the benefits of releasing emotions through positive means, such as music. The area that I think means the most to my personal compositions, though, the emotional content of music and how I attempt to convey them. This may sound like a mix of the technical and emotional aspects, and in a sense you'd be correct.

When I write music, I always want it to accomplish something. One song may be extroverted and written to tell a story. Another may be introverted and more about personal revelations. Believe it or not, I've even got a song that is meant to be humorous (gasp!). The main current behind all my music, however, is that I wanted the songs to say something. I usually start with an idea, what I want the main point to be. Many times, the song will take on a new meaning when it's done, but I always start with a focus. After that, I try to come up with a few key phrases that I can base at least one verse and a chorus on. My songs don't push any boundaries and are all pretty basic, so I usually write the chorus and first verse. After that, I usually have a pretty good idea if the song is worth finishing, reworking, or if I should just toss it (I've tossed more songs that I care to admit). After a song has made it through the process of writing the lyrics, I usually put it away for a little while so I can come back to it. If, when I sing it again, I still like it, I'll let others hear it. It may seem like a long process, but I've always been one who wants what I say to mean something and I want to say things right. I think too often people write prolifically, putting out dozens, even hundreds of songs, but never actually say anything. I may only have a handful of songs that people will ever hear, but they will all be a piece of me that others can hear.

You may be thinking that this post is starting to get a little long, so I'll start trying to make more sense and wrap it up. I believe that all music should say something. I try to get my music to say something. That's how I use composition as my therapy.

If you want to hear some of my songs (recorded very cheaply on a home computer), check out this site: http://www.reverbnation.com/artist/bryanodeen#!/bryanodeen

Learning about music

Here's the next edition in my "Music is My Therapy" series. It's about how learning about music is therapeutic for me, and hopefully it may give you some insight into how you can use music to enhance your life. Not to sound like an expert, mind you, but I figure that if nothing else keeping this blog forces me to process and put down in writing my philosophies, lessons, and thoughts.

I have always been a curious person and music may be a curious person's wonderland. There are so many facets of music that can be learned. You can learn instruments, theory, philosophy, sight reading, composition, history, etc. Instruments can be fun and challenging, as well as practical for music therapists. In my job in hospice, I get a chance to meet with people who have played all kinds of instruments. Many have played piano and sang, but occasionally I meet a client who used to play band instruments and, I might be able to create a therapeutic experience simply by playing a clarinet, trumpet, or whatever they used to play. I don't often do this, mostly because I don't know a ton of band instruments enough to play in a session. I would love to get that point, though.

History is another interesting aspect to learn for music therapists. Many times, I can tie in a story that a patient told me with the story behind a song. This makes the client feel more connected with the music and can help them open up to me, as well. Everybody has a story, and I love to hear them.

So far, I've just mentioned a few ways learning can be therapeutic for my clients, so I'll talk a little bit about one of my favorite aspects of music. I'm a huge fan of learning about music philosophy. I'm always so interested in people's thoughts when they are composing. For instance, one of my favorite movies at this moment is "It Might Get Loud", where three great guitarists (The Edge, Jimmy Page, and Jack White) talk about their approach to guitar and songwriting. Even practice has a philosophy. The book "Practicing: A Musician's Return to Music" by Glenn Kurtz discusses how Mr. Kurtz went from being an aspiring professional classical guitarist and, eventually, learns to just play for himself. This book really has helped me focus when I practice and refocus when I lose sight of what I'm doing. I would definitely suggest you watch "It Might Get Loud" or read "Practicing."

What are some of your favorite things to learn about music and why?

Music in the environment

A few posts ago, I discussed how I use music as my own personal therapy. I gave four ways that I intentionally use music to enrich my life and mentioned that maybe I'd try to break each of these down at some point. Well, my friends, that time has come.

I guess I should start by stating what exactly I mean by "environment". Essentially, I mean that music is playing for anyone within ear shot to hear. For people to hear, people need to be around. Seems basic enough, right? For me, then, music in the environment is used to foster social support and promote interaction. I'm not a very extroverted person. I'm the guy at the wedding reception who stands off to the side and watches people dance not because I can't dance (although that's what I'll say whenever someone tries to get me to do it), but because there are always so many people out there dancing. Plus, it's too loud for me to talk over, so I end up just moving around, trying not to bump into people, and not talking. Knowing this, then, maybe it makes more sense that I try to use music as a way to break the ice in small groups. I love talking with people about music and playing new music for people. Many times, I will just put a record on and talk with people when they come over to visit. It seems that when people hear music that they know they don't have to listen to, they feel more inclined to talk. This includes myself.

One reason I bring all this up is that it appears that music is becoming a personal experience. People have mp3 players and headphones nowadays, not radios in their homes. Computers have speakers, but I bet if you go to coffee shop, you'll find that people with computers are using headphones, isolating themselves from potentially disruptive stimuli. I can't help but wonder how this isolation affects us as people in the 21st century. We can listen to what we want to listen to through headphones. We can watch what we want to watch on one of hundreds of channels. We can decide who we do and do not interact with by denying "friend requests." We can essentially create our own world where we don't talk to people, listen to music, watch shows, or hear news we don't like. This may make us less annoyed, but is that really how many of us want to live?

These ideas have implications for music therapy. Yesterday, I did a music therapy session for a gentleman where we had arranged to pick up lunch for him at his favorite restaurant, and brought along several of his friends that would meet there. I played music and, for the first song they listened quietly and clapped. I said, after that, "What are some stories you have of Eddie?" and that got the ball rolling. People started telling stories back and forth and, once they were in a good pace, I started playing again. You could tell that the stories got more animated the longer I played and, when I decided to eat my lunch, the stories slowed down more. I wish I had kept playing, and was planning on it, but people started to leave. The music seemed to, for that period of time, spur on conversation and interaction between old friends.

Trygve Aasgaard talks a lot more about music therapy as an environmental factor in his chapter in "Music Therapy in Palliative Care: New Voices" edited by David Aldridge. Aasgaard's chapter, entitled "Music Therapy as Milieu in the Hospice and Paediatric Oncology Ward", holds a lot of information about how environmental music therapy is used at his hospice in Oslo. Check it out!