Having fun?

I heard a story about a conductor of a well-known orchestra who used some rehearsal time to play some pieces ‘for fun’, much to the irritation of the musicians. All professional musicians, above all, want to get to the end of the rehearsal as soon as possible, and the idea of playing something ‘for fun’ is anathema. Perhaps I’m generalising too much, but, if I am, not that much. Rehearsing is work, and work is nice when it stops. That’s not to say that rehearsing is never fun, but if you start to call it that, it annoys people. The ‘fun’, if it’s there, should be a side effect, not the rationale for the rehearsal. Sometimes jazz musicians get told how much ‘fun’ it must be to play jazz, by people that don’t. Maybe there is some envy of the perceived spontaneity of jazz, as well as the feeling of joy that the music sometimes conveys. There’s a quote attributed to Johnny Griffin – ‘Jazz is music made by and for people who have chosen to feel good in spite of conditions’. But you could apply this to a lot of music, since the initial impetus for getting involved in music in the first place is to feel good in some way, whether it’s through self-validation, connection to others, enjoyment of the music itself, or perhaps a feeling of being uplifted or enlightened.

I remember an interesting comment my father, a big jazz aficionado and a talented musician himself, made about Bud Powell, that he wasn’t surprised that the ‘psychological minefield of bebop’ might be linked to mental health problems. Bud Powell, dogged by mental health problems and alcoholism throughout his career, was a musical pioneer of great artistic integrity. The link between great art and mental health problems is well documented, and my father’s comment further implied that there may be something perilous in the content of the style, perhaps something psychologically dangerous about musical innovation, especially where what is being expressed feels darker and more difficult than what went before, as was the case with bebop.

Also, ‘feeling good’ and ‘having fun’ might not be the same things. But even if they are, music doesn’t always lead to one or other. Music can explore difficulty and express ugliness, pain, frustration, things which don’t necessarily make for an evening out. Of course, these difficult emotional worlds might be part of a larger narrative, one that is ultimately meaningful and transformative. Dissonance might be experienced in the moment as unsettling, but then in context as creating tension which leads to resolution. Music has to have a dark side, even when it is ultimately expressing something positive or joyful.

As a music therapist, I’m often told “That must be so rewarding”, by people who aren’t music therapists. Sometimes, as I collect a child for their session, a teacher, or parent, says to the child, “Have fun”. Music has this association with enjoyment, entertainment, diversion, that talking doesn’t. Nobody would say to someone going into their psychotherapy session, “Have fun!” If they did, it would immediately be recognised as deadpan humour. The capacity of music to express the difficult, the painful, is forgotten about in these moments. Bud Powell, perhaps, was one of those gifted human beings who could transform his personal pain into a kind of beauty, without taking away the underlying truth in what he played, or perhaps he was using music to ‘feel good, in spite of conditions’, but either way, he was bringing joy to others. The client in music therapy doesn’t have this responsibility.

The therapist, of course, has another kind of responsibility, which is to accept the client’s music (or lack of music), beautiful and rewarding or not. Then also to respond, to meet what the client brings, which can include the absence of music, the avoidance of music, the creation of music which is aggressive, confrontational, disruptive, destructive, nullifying, or, of course, expressive, emotive, poignant, communicative or even, indeed, beautiful. But whatever it is, it’s there. It’s the challenge the music therapist has to meet. Occasionally, this might be fun, and we can welcome this, but don’t expect it. The dark side of the music in music therapy doesn’t always resolve, or find a meaningful context. Sometimes it can express things you wouldn’t choose to hear, if you were using the music for entertainment, and it can be left hanging, or unclear, or it can feel empty. So it could be argued that music therapy has discovered, or revealed, a particular use for music, as the effective conduit for a darkness which can’t be expressed in any other medium. Have fun, kids…