The ethics of reimagining
Seen that “a healthy dose of disrespect” has been presented as a possible approach for navigating the tension between fidelity vs. creative-expression, we need to take a closer look at the ethics of reimagining music. First, it shouldn’t be neglected that there are examples of when music is misused, sometimes severely so. Such examples include, for instance, situations in which musical works are used to promote causes outside the realm of music. This can relate to using a piece of music to serve a political agenda, such as placing it in the context of a political campaign that goes against what the composer stands/stood for. Examples also include use without crediting the composer and the unauthorized use of music in marketing to promote commercial products, examples that have economic consequences and can be considered exploitation of the music. These examples are, in a way, easy to dismiss as problematic, and typically constitute the basis for law cases surrounding music and intellectual property rights. But beyond the cases that are obviously problematic, it gets more difficult; what can we do in music – with music?
The experiments presented here did not reach a conclusive answer for where to draw the line with musical experimentation, nor was this the objective. One thing that’s certain, however, is that there can never be a protocol for how musical negotiations should be carried out, as they are always contingent on the given situation; circumstances related to the performers, the context in which the music is to be performed or recorded, the listeners, and so on. At times, playing the music in a way that is faithful to how its written might be the ethically responsible choice. One such situation can be when a composer has recently passed away, as a way of being respectful towards their family:
When they’ve recently died, then there are many friends and admirers, and family, who remember them and thinking lovingly of them. And to the extent that that is maintained or enhanced or fed by the way you play their scores, then I think there remains an obligation to play scores in ways that please survivors. It’s exactly as one would not speak critically of the dead to those who knew and loved them. (Leech-Wilkinson, 2020, 11.3.)
But, as Leech-Wilkinsons points out, such obligations of courtesy passes with time, as ”dead composers are not harmed by performances of their scores that they might not have liked” (11.3). Conversely, despite our best intentions of bringing out artistic value in the music, it's not the composers who have already left earthly existence who will appreciate these efforts, but the people it touches. An essential component is the care that we put into the musical processes, for the intrinsic value of music and its expressive qualities, and for the strong emotional connection we can feel to it. This was a recurrent topic in the discussions surrounding the musical processes presented here, that we didn’t want to lose the qualities that initially attracted us to the music, the things that resonates with us. As Warren (2014) describes it, music can be seen as a gift, and should, as such, be used in a responsible way:
The performer has received a gift/inheritance that cannot be repaid. Those who receive such a gift need to use it responsibly, but just what ‘responsible use’ means can change and therefore it needs to be negotiated with others. (Warren, 2014, p. 170)
This means that, although we may find approaches from a jazz context to be useful for realizing something that we perceive to be a particular musical potential, we’re not merely using the piece as a vehicle for our own self-realization. What arguably is a more fruitful path – and the ethical path – is to engage in a dialog with the piece, one that brings out something in the piece as well as the performer. And engaging in such a dialog may also lead to us expanding on the music and create something new, something vastly different than the source material.
Following an intuition of what serves music from a larger perspective has been an important part of the work processes presented here, processes that – in their best moments – seemed to involve that which Bertinetto (2019) refers to as ‘true to the moment’. In other words, responding “in a creatively successful way to the demands that ensue from the artistic interaction with a situation, with other players, with the audience, as well as with a genre, a tradition, a musical work” (p. 25). This is by all means an ethical concern, considering the vast power that music has to move and transform its listeners. Seen this way, it’s evident why our ethical responsibilities, first and foremost, are directed towards the here and now.
But, to present another perspective – approaching musical processes with care shouldn’t prevent us from daring to seek alternatives, when feeling musically justified to do so; art must be able to challenge prevailing norms and standards. As Pat Metheny elaborates on his thoughts on "a healthy dose of disrespect," he explains that such an attitude is an essential part of the jazz tradition:
PM: To me, jazz is the music of rebellion. It’s really the music about individuality and coming up with your own point of view and your own way of looking at things. So, much as I’m encouraged by the fact that there are lots of younger musicians who have the capacity to understand and deal with the music that has historically preceded us by the last 40 or 50 years, sometimes I wish there were a few more rabble-rousers in that group. To me, when people talk about the tradition, that’s as much part of the tradition as anything. (Woodard, 1992, p. 20)
In the same interview, the bassist Charlie Haden is also interviewed, who describes this way of seeking artistic alternatives as a mission and a responsibility:
CH: What you’re talking about is very rare in all art forms – when someone challenges the art form and challenges the world and take risks to express the passion or the vision inside them. It’s very rare. I hope that there are young musicians coming up in jazz who feel this responsibility – this mission. (Woodard, 1992, p. 20)
As Herbie Hancock describes it in one of his Norton lectures entitled On the Ethics of Jazz, going against established rules was an important part of his artistic development:
My golden rule is to keep breaking the rules. Keep doing the unexpected. Break through the comfort zone. But especially, I now strive to create music that serves a purpose beyond myself, that engages with the world around me and upholds the ethics of jazz. … Thomas Edison said, ’There are no rules here. We're trying to accomplish something.’. (Hancock, 2020).
However, such an attitude isn’t merely a question of pushing musical boundaries, but something that can instigate changes at all levels of human existence. As Hancock (2020) puts it: “those who fracture or replace rules and work toward a common good to elevate and honor the human spirit are exemplary actors at the highest regard and set a high bar for humanity.”
Challenging the rigidity of musical traditions and their associated values can be in service of music from a larger perspective, as a way of bringing forth new views and musical visions, and as a way of unleashing the creative potential of performers. Considering the potential that music has of affecting those who listen to it, this very much becomes a question of ethically engaging with our environment. Since musical works are not objects at museums, we ideally want them to reflect something of the world of today, rather than reiterate the hegemonies, beliefs, and values of centuries past. Here, as Ayerst (2021) suggests, improvisation can play an important role, as it can contribute in revealing and changing ideologies, by offering a healthy form of resistance to structures – musical or social – that might initially be seen as cemented. But, as Hancock reminds us, this is not to taken lightly:
Breaking the rules has to be done with a sense of responsibility. Otherwise, chaos ensues. And I think we already have enough chaos in the world today. (Hancock, 2020)
This brings us back to our previous point, related to the care that we put into the processes, a care that also should play a role as we imagine and reimagine new versions of classical works, or other music. How we choose to conceptualize these versions – whether we view them as interpretations, covers, adaptations, arrangements, or re-compositions – is a secondary consideration in this matter. One thing is clear, however; as the reimagining of repertoire is always contingent of the situation – the performers, the instruments, the musical work, the composer, the score, the tradition(s), the musical context, the room, etc. – it’s best seen as an ongoing process, one that may lead to vastly different results depending on the moment. Seen this way, reimagining pieces of music can serve as an ongoing way of adding vitality to musical repertoire, which ultimately – as my duo partner Härenstam expressed it – can contribute to make the music live on longer.