This culture of continuous creativity infused the two days and two nights and to me felt like a real treat. In my daily life it is rare to feel so immersed in thinking in this way. It raises your game, changes your thinking and allows experimentation with confidence. This was possible because of the way that the sessions were led, but also required a willingness to go “Beyond the Bridge” as we kept reminding ourselves. Personally, I knew that I had much to learn and didn’t want to waste any opportunity that was presented.

The last day saw us work in small groups to present mini workshop ideas to each other for supportive feedback. This felt at first like a burden, but quickly became an opportunity to learn new ideas from others once more. Choir leaders, singing group leaders, youth workers, all with different perspectives and needs presented and shared, tried things out and much of this stood out for me. I really haven’t sung so much in my life and I loved it. I hope to be able to use some of these ideas myself.

I trialled an unfinished idea that I wasn’t confident was going to work. However, it went well and the comments have allowed me to build on the direction I was going in. I am currently presenting these workshops in a number of schools successfully, so thanks to everyone there who fed back so helpfully.

The final workshop I attended was given by Hugh Nankivell. I was enjoying the conceptual element of what he had been doing with us and I felt that I needed that as a musician to explore my own music. The biggest resource a teacher has is their own selves. Imparting knowledge, literally giving of ourselves. By exploring this area more, I could hopefully feed some of this experience back into what I deliver and share in my own workshops.

Using a relatively simple concept, Hugh directed a band of diverse musicians and singers in complex and lengthy improvised music pieces. Involving us in the discussion, five very different musical directions were established:

1. All (could be a tune or song already learned)
2. Drone
3. Riff/ ostinato,
4. solo (or extended linear improvisation) without repetition
5. Vocalised waltz time

Later, a new conductor was added to the options and multiple conductors was also suggested (but not tried).

In a room full of experienced musicians and singers, this was relatively easy to do. However, Hugh assured us that it can work with very young children too and I see no reason as to why not. Most of the instruments we played are standard in schools and in some ways it isn’t a million miles away from what I do in workshops already. However, the different approach quite clearly lends itself to other ways of using it and I wonder if this can be used in conjunction with more structured work. I’ll have to think on that one further.

On the drive back home to Edinburgh over the north Pennines and into the Borders, I had to have radio silence. My mind was buzzing so completely with the musical experiences that there was no room for anything else. Also, I didn’t want the outside world to come back in yet.

Besides giving me practical tools, the whole experience has given me the confidence to believe in what I do, that I am doing something right, something valuable and am not alone in doing so. I didn’t realise that I needed to know this, and maybe I didn’t, but it is certainly good to know. I also have the confidence to take it further now.

So, a big thanks to everyone involved in the organisation and to all those I met there. I hope to see you all another time soon.

One thing that is always useful is observing good practice. This happened throughout. We drew up a workshop contract that focused the expectations of all participants, including the leaders. As a mindmap, it clarified our thinking about what we were agreeing to participate in.

All workshops should start with a contract of sorts and I was pleased to realise that mine do already. In some respects this is another way of expressing the learning outcomes and assessment criteria in a formal classroom setting that is now standard in teaching.

There were useful warm-up games and ice-breakers, which can sometimes make people feel self-conscious, but can do a good job if handled well.  As part of a series of small workshops conducted by all of the experts, Rob Kitchen on Tuesday focused on some activities that would be very useful in schools. In particular, “1, 2, Let’s play Zoo” used invented rhythm, sounds, actions and remembering those of others. He ran a further workshop later in the day, but we had to choose between workshops and was forced to miss it; maybe next time.

Beccy Owen led us in some group singing that I wish I had recorded. She has an easy, natural way that is quite important in bringing the best out of people’s voices, particularly when there are so many strong singers already present. She played some voice games with us that produced some inventive responses and taught us a great song from Sweet Honey in the Rock, Digger Dog. Strong rhythms, easy to learn repetitive elements and a strong message about racial equality, friendship and neighbourliness. And dogs. Good for schools.

I was delighted to be reminded of this group, who I saw many years ago. Clearly their repertoire is worth revisiting for ideas, especially when so much music produced for children seems to have low musical and production values. Experience 101 was particularly recommended by Beccy and I’ll be looking this one up.

In a previous workshop, Beccy had us singing an Apache song (Ungawa) that lent itself to singing in rounds and I had first encountered during teacher training. However, I had forgotten it and this was a welcome reminder.

It was also interesting and useful to see the hand gestures of both Beccy and Dave Camlin when they conducted our singing. This provided a quick visual guide to what we were meant to be singing as we were singing it. I will be incorporating some of this into my own directions in future.

Dave’s own workshop involved technology and beatboxing and he developed this further later on in his optional workshop. I was keen to explore this as I have begun to base my songwriting workshops  with the upper primary years on rap and a number of the boys in particular naturally break out in to beatboxing. I wanted to find a way to not only support it, but to incorporate it into what I do so that they become more engaged.

I have yet to listen to the long recording I have of this workshop, but from what I recall, Dave introduced us to a song called Concentration, which had been done by a rap group; however I didn’t catch all of the details. Having done some online research, my guess is that Jurassic 5 incorporated this children’s game song into a rap, which inspired Dave to do a rap/beatbox version of it. The Jurassic 5 version can be heard on Youtube.

Dave’s version was sung in a pretty jazzy style, with good beatboxing below it, making it more appealing. He taught us bass drum, snare, cymbals, high hat and bass lines as well as the lyrics and melody line. We then split up and sang different parts together. It was very effective and enjoyable. A nice teaching point is that as Dave introduced the instrument sounds, he also explained about the instrument that was being imitated. I can see this being useful in a school context; I just need to practice my sounds a bit more.

Someone requested looking at using loops in conjunction with this, so we did a version of Suzanne Vega’s Tom’s Diner based on the DNA remix, sang and beatboxed the parts and incorporated loops using Ableton Live software. This was the first time I had come across the program and could see how it compares with GarageBand, which I have used previously. The mix of live and recorded samples could make for an interesting project and I can see how Suzanne Vega’s observational lyrics could form a useful starting point for personal lyric writing.

Hugh Nankivell’s workshop that I attended had a more reflective element to it. He did one on songwriting that I would have liked to have attended, but Hugh intended his to be aimed at ideas for working with teenagers, older than my usual participants. As it happened, he demonstrated an idea for preschool song writing that I received details  of from others and looks to be workable for me. I’ll be trying that out later in the month.

Using a technique from drama, Hugh got us to divide the room into two equally-sized spaces, creating a dividing line using leaves (it was Autumn). One side contained a piano and a box of instruments, we stood in the other. Our side was designated the “audience”, the other was the “stage”. We were then left to our own devices as to how we interacted with these spaces.

This was surprisingly provocative. A blank canvas with an audience looking over your shoulder would put off any painter. Here, responses were a mixture of playful and more serious. It was certainly experimental.

The stage was then divided further in two, the instruments on one half, the other a more obvious stage; almost a stage within a stage. Again, responses were creative and playful. Musicians reacted to “performers” and vice versa. Audiences reacted to both.

Hugh invited us to  comment and reflect on what we felt about the spaces. In an obvious sense, it threw up the idea of roles and begged some questions that I find problematic on a personal level and as a community musician. Not in any particular order:

• An empty stage carries a weight of unclear expectation. Something will happen soon, but what?
• Do musicians, actors, dancers need an audience? Does the audience need them?
• What happens when you cross a line, one way or the other? When does a performance begin or end?
• Is it an equal relationship? Is there anything special about any of the roles? In the culture of X Factor, this throws up other questions.
• How does the role of musician as supporter to another performance differ from that of performer with or without support? There seems to be a different sense of performance when there is no third area. The musicians wear a different type of performance hat.
• How does the role of musician or performer change in a community setting? I am thinking of informal social situations, such as an Irish pub session with no microphone. Or music in a kitchen or other domestic space.

I can’t help thinking that, whichever way I look at it, a musician is a performer if they can be heard. Personally though, I’m not comfortable with that as it implies a special status that is primarily in the mind of the non-performer. This special status can be inspirational, but it can also be a barrier.

As a musician, I do not feel special or consciously assume any special status when I play. In front of an expectant audience I feel a burden that is at odds with how I feel when I play privately. I suppose that some people desire that, either as an audience or as performers; equally, others shun it.

As a community musician though, a barrier needs to come down. If people have been told that they are not musical or are denied opportunities for music making in some other way, then this barrier can be quite an obstacle, particularly for adults.

If all people can be musicians, then how can there be special status? I’m talking myself round in circles I realise and in all this of course there is the possibility that a musician can be their own audience and can create their own barriers. I’ll stop right there as that’s for another day.

More in part 4.

The Tuesday began with a vocal warm-up before breakfast. I’m not really a singer, but am interested in extending myself in this area and getting out of my comfort zone in a relatively safe environment. As a flute player, other potential benefits were of interest.

I joined the group as they explored long notes, opened the throats and used diaphragmatic breathing. At one point Tuvan throat singing could be heard as the singers simply explored tonal and harmonic variations, singing and responding to each other.

It was such an uplifting experience despite my lack of sleep that I decided to record the Wednesday morning session. If I recall correctly, Hugh Nankivell first asked us to choose a note at random to sing, then sing two more to go with it. Using simple four notes sequences, we improvised around each other using long tones, creating weaving harmonies that resembled plainsong. At some point, the music suggested a conclusion and somehow between us we allowed that to happen, which seemed rather magical.

Rob Kitchen then led us in Yogic breathing as practiced by musicians in parts of India as a warm-up. I was familiar with the technique of breathing deeply and gently and expelling a steady stream of air, then pushing finally with the diaphragm to expel any residual air in the lungs before inhaling again. However, I rarely get the chance in my daily life to do this. As an exercise it was physically and emotionally energising and I would definitely seek to incorporate this into my routines in the future.

The Wednesday vocal warm-up session finished with a piece, possibly an aria, from Hugh’s Whaletone Opera, composed with Makoto Nomura and linking Japanese communities in the UK and Japan. Consisting of just 5 words that translate as “How fruit is made”, each word is sung as a single note for three breath lengths before the singer moves on to the next word. The length of the entire piece is therefore 15 breath lengths, but as this is different for each singer, the singing ebbs and flows naturally and the song progresses organically, which seems rather apt.

A simple idea, the resultant improvised harmonies and dynamics were quite powerful and a highlight of the event for me. I can see ways in which this could be adapted too, for example, other languages, with wind instruments or instruments with a strong sustain. I also emerged with a new-found confidence in singing with others.

More in part 3

It is easy to refer to such events as being inspiring, but so much has come out of this particular one that it can only be described in such terms. On a personal level it was a revelation, but it may also prove to be a catalyst for action in Scotland. I’ll comment on that in another post.

Amy Higgs  and Trevor Snowdon had organised an event for everyone. I was not familiar with any of the names of those leading the sessions, but I am now.

Hugh Nankivell, Dave Camlin, Beccy Owen and Rob Kitchen worked hard to ensure that it was fluid, creative and dynamic, with an emphasis on making people feel relaxed enough to step out of their comfort zone.

On the Monday night the participants brainstormed a theme for the event and a title worthy of a festival. Beyond the Bridge is what we came up with and it kept coming back as a refrain over the two days to help take people into new musical places. We all wanted to cross over into new ways of learning, teaching and maybe even performing.

Singing was a big part of the event, even for “non-singers”, because, as it was continually pointed out to us, there is no such thing as someone who can’t sing. For someone like myself who never sang in public until compelled to by the workshops I lead, this was both uncomfortable and encouraging. An honest acceptance of an honest contribution is welcome to the individual and a reminder of how some people feel about our own workshops. It isn’t necessarily exciting for everyone and can cause anxiety for people who feel that they aren’t musical.

On the Monday night, I had a discussion with Kate, building a community choir in Stockton-on-Tees, and Aly, who is on the new Community Music course at Newcastle University. One conclusion reached was that genius is something that can become apparent in anybody, given the right opportunities in life. I paraphrase, but we all agreed that as musicians and music leaders, we were aiming to provide those opportunities to everyone we worked with. It was heartening and also served as a reminder about why we were there.

More in the event to follow.

This is a music education project from the mid-1970s:

The Langley Schools Music Project is a 60-voice chorus of rural school children from western Canada, untrained but captivated by melodic magic, singing tunes by the Beach Boys, Paul McCartney, David Bowie, The Bay City Rollers, and others. The students accompany themselves with the shimmering gamelan chimes of Orff percussion, and elemental rock trimmings arranged by their itinerant music teacher, Hans Fenger.

And inspiring music it is too. It was recorded using basic equipment in a school hall and released on two 12″ vinyl LPs that have since been brought out again on a single CD.

I was struck by the similarity of some of the aims and methods to my own workshops, which on reflection shouldn’t be a surprise as music education often incorporates ideas from various different sources. However, I aim to learn more about the ideas of Carl Orff Schulwerk as a result of this, since it seems to feature creative exploration of sounds and promote the idea of the children owning their music.

There is an account of the project and links to interviews and examples of the tracks on Irwin Chusid’s website Songs in the Key of Z.

The recent Journey with Music workshop in Port Seton was part of the East Lothian Play4Today event and I was pleasantly surprised by the size of venue and numbers of people attending.

The workshop I provided was specifically for professionals working with preschoolers and aimed to show how I prepare, organise and deliver my creative music workshops for young children. I was slightly concerned about meeting the expectations of those attending the workshop as these methods have really just been tested at p1-3 level. I decided to focus on highlighting my approach to using existing resources such as picture books from the library and instruments that are to hand or can be made. Any arising issues would hopefully be ironed out with our collective experiences.

Educators can often be put off making music with children by their own musical experiences. By being out of their own personal comfort zone they can then feel that there is a risk of losing control and direction without a road map. My workshop aimed to provide some direction and show that by thinking creatively and allowing children to experiment and explore music on their own terms it is possible to devise a project that can be sustained over a number of sessions and can result in a group event such as a performance to parents.

My worries were unfounded since the very same approach towards scaling the music workshops that works in the classroom also applies to preschoolers. The goals, expectations and  learning outcomes are all modified to suit a range of abilities and interests in any situation.

In the second part of the workshop, everyone was invited to work with some books that I had brought in and see if they could devise their own material using the method that had been demonstrated. There were some inspirational results and even those who felt that they weren’t musical came up with something that I felt would work very well and that they were comfortable with.

We All Went on Safari was notably successful, but there was also a new dimension brought to the ever-popular We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. Some good results were derived from working with less promising books as well. I might return to this theme another time.

Some working with 3 year olds felt that the methods would need adapting a little more, but by 4 years old this wasn’t seen as an issue. Again though, it is a question of scale and modifying and we were able to consider some approaches in the workshop.

Overall, it was brought home to me that a significant benefit to this approach is the way that a book or story can reach beyond the pages and be the start of a different journey. Closing the book isn’t the end of the story. The story can be explored in art, displays, drama and, through this approach even music. And of course, these can all be combined.

Both teachers in classrooms and the other preschool professionals who were at the Port Seton event have commented that giving the children the time to explore instrument sounds that relate to the story is very appealing. Music lessons in schools often have a tight structure by necessity, but the purpose here is to give ownership over to the children within a supported environment and with some musical direction.

This lends itself well to working within the Curriculum for Excellence framework. Children work in groups, both small and collectively, make and share ideas and decisions, use instruments to explore sounds and express themselves with confidence.

Feedback has been positive and there is some thought about taking it further. I have also since been alerted to other projects and methodologies that share some underlying principles with mine and hope to discuss those further at a later date.

The workshop is sold out, with 15 people due to attend, from childminders to nursery workers.

Image CC by Martin Sharman

His ideas are something that we can all relate to I think. Here they are necapsulated in a keynote speech he recently gave to music educators in Birmingham (contains some mild language):

Well school is back and isn’t it just? Scottish schools break up earlier than elsewhere in the UK and return earlier too. We are all just back into our second full week and it is already starting to look busy. Last year got off to a much quieter start for me, but this year my diary is full of crossings out and last week had two triple bookings before I sorted things out.

I am doing music supply in Midlothian and Creative Music Workshops in East Lothian again, so my week is full of music, which is lovely. Being the start of a new year as well, the children all have energy and interest, making it very rewarding all round.

The RSAMD Musicworks tutors got together in advance of the new year at the weekend. Despite the pre-6am start for me (on a Saturday!), there was lots of food for thought and news of new sponsors and patrons. Maybe more on that as it becomes public.

Meanwhile I have also been developing new workshop ideas for Primary children and have updated The Flow, which was  major summer project.

Image Rosslyn Chapel, Midlothian.Photo CC by nds808v