Creative Practice Reflection
I used to think composition had to start with a clear concept. A motif. A structure. Something intellectual to “build on.” And sure, sometimes it does. But lately, I’ve been more interested in what happens when I let sound lead instead of theory. I tried to stick with this idea during the 4th project of my creative workshop, as did my bandmates. I played almost a single note, rhythmically, throughout until my solo, because it worked, it made the music feel real and constructed or orchestrated in a way that wasn’t meant to show off but was meant to fit together.
“The magic is not in the analyzing or the understanding. The magic lives in the wonder of what we do not know.”
― Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
As a mixture of myself (a rock/funk influenced guitar), a classical pianist, a jazz drummer and so on… we would bounce ideas off each other was a reminder that genre is less a boundary and more a lens. It’s poetic that our initial project was titled Melting Pot. You can hear this in our project as different elements of funk, classical, jazz and blues clash. It was wild, and it worked.
Our creative process was centred around a minor transposition of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy that would appear near sporadically throughout the otherwise funk-orientated piece. It was initially in major, but I found this to be rather dull and out of sync with the rest of the project, so we changed it to a minor key to give it an edge and eery quality; letting sound lead instead of theory.
The biggest takeaway? Steal more. But steal responsibly. By that I mean: take in as much as you can from other artists—especially those whose musical languages are different from yours—and let those sounds ferment inside your own voice. You’re not copying; you’re dialoguing. I listen to the music, and I find a gap to fit in by absorbing the ideas of those around me.
In my own work, I’ve started composing with a melody first, whereas I used to come up with lyrics first. I find the former approach easier. As the musical ideas gather and snowball, I can begin writing lyrics that match the atmosphere of what I’m creating. We did this in our creative workshop, fitting lyrics to a near complete piece of music and it created a more flush and natural sounding product. In the same way, if I’m writing an instrumental, I start with the rhythm first and then come with the melody. In a sense, this means that I am always creating the part of a piece you most attentively listen to, last. It’s about getting the small details right first to perfect the bigger picture.
My favourite parts about this project were firstly my little bluesy guitar solo, I thought it fit in perfectly and relieved some creative stress as I was playing super tame all the way through. I enjoyed the underlying bassline in had real old-school funk and Motown vibes that creates a perfect base layer for musical creativity that I could really riff off of. I enjoyed the lyrics which also fit with this theme, ideas of revolution paralleled the off-kilter musical ideas that supported the piece.
If I were to work on this project again, I would firstly work and a better counter melody for Ode to Joy as I could never get something interesting to work. Perhaps as a group we could have been more creative with the structure, eliminating the randomness of some parts and making it more fluent, leaving the strange musical ideas to the melody and rhythm. We could have played around a bit more with dynamics as it is fairly static throughout, there are no real climaxes in the piece.
Overall, it was a fantastic learning experience, and I am proud of the product as it does not reflect my musical taste, but the combined individuality of each other us into this one piece of music. It has developed me as a musician and has helped me when considering new projects and ideas going forward.
INTERVIEWS
I interviewed Tobani, our bass player, about his creative process. Here is an excerpt from that interview:
Sam (Me):
Tobani, I’ll start by asking—when you’re starting something new, where do you begin? Like, what’s your entry point into making a piece of music?
Tobani:
Honestly? Feel. Always feel. I used to be the type who’d sketch out a whole structure, plan every section. But now, it’s more like—I stumble upon a texture or a funky rhythm or a strange tuning, and that almost becomes the idea. What about you?
Sam:
I’m almost the opposite ha-ha. I usually start with lyrics or a phrase—something that feels emotionally loaded. But once I’ve got that, the vibe must match, so I mess around until the sound feels like it fits the… feeling.
Tobani:
That makes sense. Do you ever find yourself chasing a feeling that you can’t quite name yet?
Sam:
All the time. I think that’s what makes the process addictive. You’re reaching for something that you can’t describe—and when you finally land on a chord or riff that clicks, it all falls in place.
I interviewed Will, our pianist, about our project. Here is an excerpt from that interview:
Sam:
How do you feel about our music Will?
Will:
I think it worked out really well Sam, I think we did a good job of incorporating Ode to Joy into that funky groove we had.
Sam:
Yes, I thought it was a bit strange at first, but I think I came round to the idea in the end. It still sounds bizarre don’t get me wrong, but it was a good exercise to practice more experimental ideas. How do you feel about the creative process as a whole?
Will:
I thought it was interesting working with the different genres of music everyone enjoyed and trying to find a compromise between them. I could tell you were hesitant about the Ode to Joy part, but I think you came up with a good harmony that let you do something different.
Bibliography
- Beethoven, L.van (1824) Symphony No.9 in D minor, Op.125, Mvt.4.
- Rubin R. (2023) The Creative Act: A Way of Being. Canongate Books.
