Inspiration - in the Words of the Greatest Composers

By Chris Billingham 

“The idea of a composer suddenly having a terrific idea and sitting up all night to write it is nonsense. Night time is for sleeping”   - Britten 

An unusual approach to the creative process, Benjamin Britten had a rigid routine of a 9 to 5 working day, much like an office job. Some suggest that this is reflected in his music, and that there are moments which demonstrate a lack of inspiration. As discussed previously I write creatively, and like many I find it difficult to understand Britten’s view on how this process works. Inspirations comes to people in a number of ways, but it is not something than can be “turned off” – awake or asleep. 

Puccini appears to share this opinion: 

“Inspiration is an awakening, a quickening of all man’s faculties”  - Puccini 

Describing inspiration in this way suggests it can appear out of nowhere and take hold of you; a perspective much more widely held than Britten’s approach. History would suggest many composers have found this to be the case. A famous example is Elgar, who is said to have written the main theme for his cello concerto on a napkin after waking up from dental surgery. However, what if inspiration didn’t just appear in an awakening? Can you force creativity? Or even take it from existing works? Stravinsky suggests that: 

“Lesser artists borrow, great artists steal” - Stravinsky 

While most composers would no doubt argue that you should never directly copy another’s work, the concept of taking ideas from one another is one that has, whether you agree with it or not, been present throughout musical history, whether it’s the classical music world discussing Handel and other Baroque composers stealing from each other or rock fans accusing Noel Gallagher of copying The Beatles. Andrew Lloyd Webber is a current composer who has been widely accused of this in many of his best-known works.

Whether a piece is original or inspired by another, it will only become its own piece of art with determination from the composer. Looking across writings from various composers, this determination can come from a number of places. Whether it’s an artist wanting to reach their full potential: 

“A creative artist works on his next composition because he was not satisfied with his previous one” - Shostakovich

A sense of urgency:

“Nothing primes inspiration more than necessity” - Rossini 

Or an artist who understands that you have to keep working on your craft beyond mere repetition:

“Don’t only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets" - Beethoven

Beethoven’s words don’t come as a surprise; he is famous for his meticulous personality when it came to both music and his day-to-day activities. He is said to have counted out precisely 60 coffee beans every time he had a cup of coffee. While others probably wouldn’t have let their approach to musicianship affect their drinking habits, many agreed that inspiration can only flourish when it is combined with hard work, with Brahms commenting that: 

“Without craftsmanship, inspiration is a mere reed shaken in the wind” - Brahms 

Indeed, Tchaikovsky notes that: 

“Inspiration is a guest that does not willingly visit the lazy” - Tchaikovsky

Is it fair to say that Britten was lazy when he suggested that he would only compose during the daytime, in what are essentially office hours? In some people’s opinions perhaps, however the method whereby one finds inspiration is entirely personal. I should probably stop shaking my head whenever I see that quotation; creativity is something individual and it matters less how a composer finds it, but how they utilise it. After all: 

"Imagination creates reality" - Wagner 

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Is music a language?

By James Chater 

Stravinsky suggests music is not a language

“Music is powerless to express anything at all. Do we not, in truth, ask the impossible of music when we expect it to express feelings, to translate dramatic situations?”

This rather disconcerting comment gives Stravinsky’s opinion on a question that has been the subject of debate throughout the history of music; is music a language? Whilst a rather poetic little statement, is it actually true? Opposing Stravinsky is Deryck Cooke, a British musicologist, who argues, “Music is a strictly codified language…each scale degree signifies a certain emotion and permits only a single specific reading.” This is an ambiguous argument, and difficult to agree with completely.

One thing advocates of both parties are able to agree on is music’s ability to express emotion. Yet even this unearths a plethora of contradictions. What emotion is it? Is that emotion universal? If the emotion we feel is then described using language, does that not simultaneously dispel the idea that music is an independent, “universal” language? To avoid a slightly circular argument, I propose we take things back to basics.

In language, in its most basic form, words are used to correspond to a single object or idea. Grammar (words positioned in a particular order, subject to rules) can generate additional meaning. Does music have the power to perform any of these functions? The essential “building blocks” of music are notes, perhaps the equivalent of words (or maybe letters; the convolution sets in); can we say a simple middle C has a meaning that can be interpreted in the same way a word can? No. It soon becomes clear that attempting to put music in terms of language is a fairly futile exercise.

If there were an example that came close to putting music in terms of a language perhaps Wagner’s leitmotif would be it. A leitmotif is an ordered section of notes and/or harmony, a musical motif, which corresponds to a single object or abstract idea. Of course, this was Wagner’s wish, unifying his libretti and music, and shows his brilliance as a composer of drama.  However, once again, the argument that this shows music as being a universal language is flawed. If a language at all, this is only Wagner’s musical language, and given the complexity of Wagner, probably just one composer’s language for one opera. Despite Wagner’s genius, I daresay music would become rather boring if, any time a composer wished to express love, they were required to use the love motif from Wagner’s Die Walkure; just so the audience understood what emotion the composer was trying to convey.

And yet, surely, that is one of the greatest things about music; that we do not always fully understand the effect it has, and why it happens. To assign music objective meaning, as a language attempts to do (and arguably fails to do, but that subject is for another day), is to wholly detract from the purpose of music itself. Or as Charles Dobrian said, “if all meanings could be adequately described using words, then the arts of painting and music wouldn’t exist.”

Personally, whether you believe music is a language or not depends on what you want to gain from music, and so a degree of self-questioning is required if you are to reach your own conclusion. If you feel searching for an objective meaning in music, an idea which you can parallel directly with everyday life, is your sole purpose, then this is surely restricting music’s ability to transcend habitual emotion, to stretch your intellectual capacity. Conversely, to say that music occupies an exclusively transcendental part of human experience is to ignore music’s inherent connection with life. For me, a balance of the two maximizes music’s potential to affect me. Perhaps Aaron Copland sums up this opinion more eloquently: “The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, “Is there a meaning to music?” My answer to that would be, “Yes”. And, “Can you state in so many words what that meaning might be?” To which my answer would be, “No.” Therein lies the difficulty.”

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