Creating their own suite mystery

SINCE music is the only language with the contradictory attributes of being at once intelligible and untranslatable, the musical…

SINCE music is the only language with the contradictory attributes of being at once intelligible and untranslatable, the musical creator is a being comparable to the gods, and music itself the supreme mystery of the science of man." Thus did Claude Levi Strauss sum up, in his book The Raw And The Cooked, the importance of music to the human race.

He might have added that, in the struggle to create, the musical creator sometimes manages to vault over some pretty daunting physical hurdles. Beethoven was deaf when he composed the Choral Symphony; Bach was practically blind by the time he produced The Art Of Fugue. And when the Irish Chamber Orchestra plays the opening bars of a brand new piece of music at the National Concert Hall on Saturday night, it will be a moment of particular triumph for the piece's young composers, who have overcome hurdles of their own to create, score and ornament its various melodies.

The composers in question are a group of children and young adults from the Cerebral Palsy Institute in Sandymount, Dublin; Saturday night's performance of their piece, a suite woven of individual melodies inspired by Renoir's painting Le Moulin De La Galette, will be the centrepiece of a gala concert which in turn is at the centre of a fundraising drive to collect £500,000 for a new school and clinic on Sandymount Avenue; and to say its creators are excited by the prospect of hearing the fruits of their six months of hard work with keyboards, hand percussion, computers and good old pencil and paper waft from the stage of the NCH would be a serious understatement.

Abandoning their usual Friday morning activities for a photo session in the institute's sunny quadrangle, they fairly bombard The Irish Times with information about their excursion into composition. Pranjal Kaksheati sums his melody up in a nutshell. "It goes down, and up," he says - which is, after all, the way all the happiest tunes go. Lise Johnston found that hers just popped into her head; "I didn't know what to write at first, but then the tune arrived out of nowhere." Deirdre Kevin wrote a waltz. "Well, it's kind of interesting, isn't it, a slow dance," she muses. "I have words to it as well." And she sings without hesitation, sweet and clear.

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Arun Asan, meanwhile, describes his tune as "happy and scary and calm. God Is With Us, that's what it's called". Arun likes listening to music - "classical music, Beethoven and some rave and some pop - and studied keyboard for a while, but had never tried his hand at composing until this year. Now he'd like to have another go: "When you look back at it, composing seems a difficult thing to do - but then you realise it's possible. I'd like to get another chance."

Another two of the composers don't have any words. Peter McMurtry smiles shyly and, asked if he enjoyed the music project, gives a very definite thumbs up for "yes". And day care assistant Paul Glover comes over to say that Stephen Kavanagh wants it to be known that he dedicated his melody to one of the girls in the day activity group who died last year, Mary Kiernan. She was a close friend of his, and she inspired him. The tune is called Mary's Theme.

The idea for the project came from Sandra Ellis, publicist with the Irish Chamber Orchestra, and music therapist Jim Cosgrove. "We began by looking at music in a fun way," the latter explains, trying out various rhythmic possibilities, pitching voices, using melody - breaking the music down into components. At first we used the voice a lot because some of the group had considerably more dexterity than others, so singing was a great equaliser and helped create confidence and a feeling of safety in the group.

"Then what we tried to get at was how music can convey ideas. We constructed different scenarios and tried to convey images or emotions in an unstructured, atonal way. For instance somebody brought in a Christmas card and we looked at it as a scene; then people chose various aspects and imagined how they might be conveyed in sound. A horse and carriage, say, or trees, or bells. At that point I brought in some hand percussion instruments and keyboard."

The eventual aim of the project was to use Renoir's painting as the basis for the series of thematic fragments which would be woven together to form a suite lasting about 12 minutes. "It's a party scene, with children, food and so on - so we floated the ideas of getting ready for a party, the various dances, getting food, clearing up and in some way negotiating that through music," says Jim Cosgrove.

"We were never sure at any stage what would come up or what a piece of music would sound like. Eventually it came out as nine melodies of maybe eight bars each, of which eight will be used in the finished piece."

When the melodies were ready it was time for an orchestral rehearsal with a string quartet drawn from the chamber orchestra. "That was magical, to hear professional musicians play the music for the first time - even in unison. And then we went through a sort of yes/no improvisation process where the musicians said, `would you like it played faster, slower, sadder, happier, louder, softer?' They also introduced the various instruments and their different registers the idea of legato, staccato and pizzicato - the range of styles and effects that are possible.

"What came across was that each person very much wanted their melody intact - it wasn't a case of oh, well, I'll throw it into the pot and we'll see what comes out'. And also they were quite determined, and rightfully so, as to the way they wanted their music to be played. Which gave them a great sense of empowerment - to be able to say look, this is my piece and this is how I'd like you to play it".

"FOR rookie composers to have professional musicians at their beck and call was marvellous - and even though they hadn't got music degrees or even full musical skills, people were very clear about what they wanted and didn't want. Which is part of the whole process of confidence building, and indeed of the creative process.

He stresses that every member of the group, both the children from the CPI school and the young adults from the training centre, took part in the process even though not everyone actually sat down and composed a tune. "And they range right through the spectrum of physical disability, from Stephen who has, no verbal skills or upper limb skills." Stephen wasn't able to take part in the early vocal exercises and had to tap out his notes, on the keyboard with the help of, a head pointer. "It was a very laborious and time consuming process for him," says Jim Cosgrove. "He put a lot of time and thought, into it, and a huge physical effort - and although he is the most, physically impaired, his melodies were the most arresting musically. It occurred to me that there was an innate quality to what he did, and I hope to work with him on a one to one basis next year."

Jim Cosgrove is adamant that as well as being a very valid therapeutic journey for the group, the project's end product is a piece of music well worth hearing. "Having been brought up to concert style by the arrangers John Buckley and Martin O'Leary, it might sound rather elaborate - and there is no denying that the children didn't specify every harmonic nuance you will hear in the finished piece. That said, while not making any outrageous claims I feel I have been involved in something kind of special," he says.

For Bob Ryan, marketing and public relations director of CPI, the whole project has been special - and then some. He points out that the current Irish music scene is particularly vibrant and varied and says it is essential for those with a disability to be given the opportunity to tap into that. He hopes, therefore, to introduce music therapy at CPI on a permanent basis.

"As a method of communication music is superb. This little group uncovered aspects of themselves they didn't know they had and it gave them a terrific lift," he said. "You could see - I'd call it a spiritual reaction, actually. Their spirits rose."

Arminta Wallace

Arminta Wallace

Arminta Wallace is a former Irish Times journalist