Flute, Accordion or Clarinet?. Jo Tomlinson
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Philippa Derrington, Mike Gilroy, Shlomi Hason and Concetta Tomaino
Penelope Birnstingl, Lisa Margetts, Joanna Burley and Grace Watts
Katy Bell, Nicky Haire, Trisha Montague and Sharon Warnes
Angela Harrison and Oonagh Jones
Rivka Gottlieb, Anna Lockett and Holly Mentzer
APPENDIX 9.1: HARP THERAPY TRAINING
APPENDIX 9.2: MUSIC-THANATOLOGY TRAINING
Steven Lyons, Jonathan Poole, Caroline Long, Alex Street and Prodromos Stylianou
Chapter 11Lower Brass (the Trombone and the Euphonium)
Trygve Aasgaard, George Murray and Helen Mottram
Nathan Bettany, Stella Compton Dickinson and Špela Loti Knoll
Luke Annesley, Susanna Crociani, Billy Davidson and Anita Vaz
Chapter 14The Bass (the Double Bass and the Bass Guitar)
Joseph Piccinnini, Paolo Pizziolo and John Preston
Foreword
David played the harp and Saul was refreshed; a simple and true statement of the power of music.
Music has accompanied every human journey since the historical record began – not surprising, perhaps, in the light of the planet’s deep and connected natural sounds and rhythm.
In this book, music therapists tell us about their personal journeys with their first instruments and how they have been able to use these instruments in clinical music therapy to accompany clients on their journeys.
Although I am not a music therapist, the power of music came home to me in a profound way when I lived for two years in Sierra Leone, working for VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas). As a very new graduate, I was responsible for training music teachers. My work took me ‘up country’ to native schools in the African bush where, notwithstanding the very English-based curriculum, I was privileged to experience the depth of meaning brought to people’s lives through their engagement with the indigenous music. Here, music meant communication, conversation, approval, achievement, recognition, rite of passage, as well as work, community, relaxation and entertainment.
That music could be so intrinsic and specific a part of life – fundamental, essential, connecting and completing – opened my eyes, ears and mind to a relationship that already had my heart! My musical experience began with my father who played saxophone and piano in dance bands and my own formal training started on the piano at the age of five. Bassoon, flute, guitar and cello followed and, later, all were eclipsed by composing and conducting. Music was central to my childhood, making its claim on me through family, friends, education and recreation – all adding pathways on the map of my adult musical life.
In the same way, almost all the music therapists writing in this book trace their passion for their first instrument and for music in general to childhood or to family experiences.
My career in music has led me through many fascinating encounters, not least of which was a commission for the City of London Sinfonia for a cross-cultural work I composed and conducted called Saigyo, named for the Japanese warrior poet on whose work I drew for inspiration. The scope of this commission embraced working with many different kinds of musicians in many different circumstances, from the Japanese shakuhachi player whose instrument featured in the new composition, to the school children who developed projects around the new piece and the community groups with whom I worked to produce a pre-concert performance in Peterborough cathedral.
A special needs group, an adult recorder ensemble and a samba band met under my guidance, not only to work together but also to perform as an integrated creative entity. This unusual combination immediately threw into sharp relief very different approaches to music and contrasting but complementary aspects of musical experience, from emotional directness, to intellectual exploration to sheer physical immersion.
As we work-shopped our ideas, the participants played not only as their existing groups but also cross-fertilised in subgroups of threes. There were challenges of communication, of technical ability, of aspiration, and of interaction. Those whose musical repertoire was usually more complex found themselves seeking simplicity and those whose experience was more simple were drawn to greater complexity. Those whose musical interest was focused on rhythm experienced the joy of sonority and those who were more accustomed to restricted practices broke out into extremes of dynamic, range and emotion.
This was a wonderful, touching and highly instructive experience. Music was the differentiating element and it became the combining force. Similarly, chapters in this book show that while each instrument has its own characteristics, ultimately, it is through the music-making itself that interactions can develop and changes can occur.
Music is nothing more or less than a disturbance of the air – the very air around us without which we would not exist. Music inhabits this world of vibration by pipe, by string, by