Posted 11 April 2012 - 12:24 PM
This is an important question!
I think the key is to recognize the fact that music -all music- is a language, and when we employ it, we are in fact part-taking in something universal, something shared.
And just as with other languages, the more expansive vocabulary we have, the more
choices we have, the less likely we are to repeat something already written verbatim (or regurgitate something unconsciously). Of course,
when we're dealing with strictly diatonic music, and unless we aim for novelty through rather extreme means, such as bizarre rhythms, leaps
etc., chances are our ideas might cross paths with ideas not of our origin. Rather than opting for "false complexity" (contrived melodic construction etc.), I think we would often fare better by looking at the other tools at our disposal: harmony, rhythm, texture,
orchestration... There are so many ways we
could take something simple, something "already heard", and re-vitalize it, give it new meaning!
Given that this is a Williams forum after all, I will
offer a very recent case-in-point: the "Bonding
theme" from "War Horse"; here is a theme that intervallically, at least at its basis, has been heard thousands of times before: a rising and
falling arpeggio. But Williams treats this as a
given; that arpeggio is not the theme's sole "point". Rather, the organic, archaic simplicity and "knownness" of the melodic construct
becomes a metaphor for something timeless: the
ancient bond between man and animal, and is given, through Williams' signature harmonic contextualization, a warmth and, just as importantly, a "voice" (it becomes a typical "Williams" theme, rather than a generic rising and falling arpeggio figure). Of course, the rest
of the theme has its relative complexities, and I think there is a lesson to be learnt from this as well, and indeed from all of Williams' melodic creations: Too often, composers will get carried away writing a "soaring" melody, and while we
soar, we too easily fall prey to the undistilled (and often unconscious) sources of our own musical language, which is to say our own set of preferences, which is to say our own favoured selection of all music known to us, and all of a sudden, while we think we're flying on the wings of inspiration, we're on the brink of pure regurgitation...
Williams clearly has a very "constructivistic" attitide towards creating his themes: They are
sculpted and shaped very carefully, aiming to seem inevitable, but always retaining a sense of "otherness" as well; there's always a slight twist somewhere, regardless of how completely
natural they feel and flow. It could be melodic, or harmonic or rhythmic. In this sense, Williams is very much like Haydn: There is a lot of effort, a lot of labor, behind seeming simplicity.
And the lesson for all of us in this, is to be
vigilant about what we create; to try to resist becoming too infatuated with what our minds dish up initially; to see if we can improve upon the ideas that are readily (perhaps too readily) available to us, through all or some of the
means at our disposal. What we should strive for, then, is to constantly expand our vocabulary, and add to our arsenal of craft and experience, thus increasing our choices, and reducing the
risk of stagnation and involuntary aping!
