Music-self integration

(This text is partly built on a reflection over Free Play and In I Musiken, written autumn 2011 for the FFK-course @ KMH with Sven Åberg.)

Experience is a key in creating a strong music-self integration. I have no knowledge of the psychological or cognitive factors involved in this, and the term is completely my own (though I would be surprised if no-one else has had similar thoughts) and I don’t make any claims that this has got any scientific value. It is, however, slightly based on reflections done after reading Free Play and Into the Music (In i musiken).

Autum 2011, early in the NoFo education I wrote this text for a course we did in Stockholm with Sven Åberg. (Translated spring 2013.)

I’ll try to do a small summary of my own development over the last years, with special regards to music and consciousness.

When I decided to go down the path of professional music making, it was mainly because I experienced that the Music gave me experiences I couldn’t get anywhere else. It was not about a feeling that ‘music is everything to me’ or ‘I have to express myself through music in order to survive’, but at the times when I was making music, especially with others, I could get a feeling of content, peace and satisfaction. Sometimes I would enter the world of music completetly, forgetting everything about time and space, sometimes it was just a comfortable feeling of connection and a strong sense of context.

Since I started studying music, these moments have actually become less frequent. There is more focus on the craft, on developing technique, style, expression etc. And the moments when music really captures me has become less common, and they never occur within the frames of education, but always outside it.

I have been interested in, and spent a lot of energy on acquiring various musics, styles etc, and much less energy on (consciously) developing my general relationship with music and my instrument.

But I have also started thinking a lot more. When I now have re-read the both books (Free Play and Into the Music) I realise that some of the thoughts they contain is stuff that has been present in a latent mode, below the surface, since I read them last time (which was before I started studying at Music Academy). They contain many thoughts that has helped me along the way, above all with getting a grip on the education as a whole (since I often experience music education to be very fragmented).

I experience that there is a long way to go before I reach ‘nirvana’ through music, but over the last years, I have been thinking more and more about how my musicianship affects other sides of life, and how it would be possible to use some sort of ‘spiritual’ development, to also become a better musician.

I’m on my way back to a state of being where music actually gives me transcending experiences, even if it’s a slow process.

At the same time: Does one have to have experienced nirvana to be a full-fledged musician? Is it first then, that music becomes divine? And does the music has to be divine? Always? Everywhere? Could it not just get to be some simple dance music sometimes? Or something which is in the background when you’re eating dinner or washing up?

Now, about a year and a half later, a lot of these thoughts are still relevent, but I have also moved on a bit. To begin with, it is no longer true that I haven’t had any transcending or capturing moments of music making within the frames of education. I would still say that there is something in the imperative of the education, that doesn’t help towards creating a good environment for music making. Something which, most of the time, limits the engagement of most people, limits how much of themselves they actually put into the music making. But during NoFo I have experienced capturing and transcending moments of music making, also within the frame of education.

But more importantly, I have been thinking more about, and also experiencing some aspects of, the connections between the music and the self, the ‘inner’ aspects of music making. And I am even more convinced now, that there is something to gain from developing the ‘spiritual’ side of myself, to develop as a musician. A strong, open and relaxed mind, confident and in contact with itself and in contact with the body, is a good start for making music. For me, there is actually a strong link here to the power of experience, which for me is an idea that in the end is about how body and mind gets connected. And since music making, in the end, is a physical activity (since it involves, and depends on, movement of the body, at least when playing the violin) that aims to express somtehing that begins in the mind, I feel it really helps to have a good mind/body connection.

Music/self, mind/body, feelings/movements. It seems to me like a perspective that is based on the whole, rather than splitting things up into pieces, is beneficial.

The two books, Free Play and Into the Music, has been very influential for me. I’ve read them at least twice each, at different stages in my musical development and education, and I always read them differently, relate to them in different ways. Apart from inspiring me to a lot of the thoughts presented in this text, they have also been very influential in leading me to the belief that ideas, however abstract and far fetched (in relation to music), have direct impact on how you make music, and what kind of music you are making.

Method for writing (method for processing knowledge)

Writing this thesis is very much a matter of processing the knowledge that I have gained during my two years of master studies. To do this, I have had great help from making notes, in lessons, when practicing, when traveling or just any other time when I have needed to put my thoughts down in words to make sense of them, or just to see them in text. This thesis builds very much on these notes. I have also had great help from reading books, both fiction and non-fiction. I have tried to list all the influential texts here.

I have also learned about the importance of making thoughts possible. Gradually I began to realise that my thinking and reflecting worked better sometimes and in some places, and not so well other times and in other places. When I realised this, I started making use of it, which for one thing led me to making sure that I get some moments of solitude every now and then, since that seems to be necessary for me to gather my thoughts and understand my situation.

While working with this thesis, I have been writing more or less simultaneously on lots of different parts. Instead of following a straight line of thought, I have allowed my writing to go in the direction that my thoughts lead me. I have been adding bits and pieces under various headings, constantly starting new paragraphs while trying to capture my thoughts. After a while I realised that this probably reflected how the knowledge was organized in me, and in the end that lead to the creation of this hypertext thesis.

Method for my artistic research (method for development)

The overall work I’ve been doing during my Master studies can be described as Artistic Research. In this work, I have used several different methods. Some very conciously chosen to aid development, some chosen just out of curiousity, and some not even considered a method until I look back at them in retrospect. Some of the methods are described in this thesis, like how I’ve been using playing and the body to move outside my comfort zone. Or how the contrast between text and music (concrete and abstract) provokes me, forces me to think and in the end also develops me. There is also a section on how I have been using ideas and concepts like origin, tradition, archaic music and the thought that there are no tunes as a source of inspiration.

During my studies I have also had great help from discussing with teachers, friends and colleagues, who have provided new perspectives and asked useful questions. I have also received a lot of inspiration from reading books and listening to music. Writing lots of notes has also helped me in processing information, reflecting and taking care of ideas. This has been helpful both in my artistic research and when processing my development.

Inspiration and Expression

 In a lesson in Artistic Research in Odense we were asked to describe what inspire us as musicians, what we’re trying to express with our music. I realised that I often get inspired by things I read. And that it is a source of frustration when I think about my musical/artistic practice in a larger perspective that it’s hard (or, frankly, impossible) to express words and sentences when you play an instrument. I read a lot, news papers, magazines, books, and that inspire me and it has a huge impact on my view of the world. And I would like my world view, my ideas about society and mankind, my ideals, my fears and hopes for the world, to come across in my music. And since I feel that a lot of this, within myself, is based on my experiences of written text, it is not obvious for me how I can make it come across in my music. Almost all the music I’m involved with, and have been involved with in the past, is instrumental. So there is a large gap between how I feel that my own world view is shaped (that is, through written text) and the means I have to pass it on to the rest of the world (which is by playing the fiddle).

This conflict, between what I perceive as the direct communication of written text, and the abstract reality of music, frustrates me, but also works as a motor in my artistic and musical development. In the end, I hope to make something good out of it. How to make my music reflect myself, my ideas and my opinions is an artistic ‘problem’ that can lead me on to new musical and artistic solutions, ideas and processes.


As a starting point for artistic development I have often used ideas or concepts (some people would maybe call it images, but for me that is a slightly different things). Sometimes the ideas are closely connected with, or obviously applicable to, music; sometimes they are more abstract. For me, an idea is expressed in words. If it is not expressed in words, I tend to think of it more as a feeling. And the tension (frustration) that exists between the words of the ideas, and the sound of the music is something that drives the development.

Still, I think that musical structure/form and setting may be used to reflect certain ideas about music and the world. Individual/group, horizontal/vertical development, tunes/no tunes, instrumental hierarchies etc. are just a few features that can be meddled with, to create different messages and let different meanings come forth through music.

I will try to describe some of the ideas or concepts I have been using, and how they have affected the music. This includes the idea of Skåne and how it relates to concepts of tradition and origin, my understanding of the philosophy of archaic music, and the idea that there are no tunes.

Archaic Music/Long Aesthetics

Early on when we began studying in Finland, we were introduced to the idea of Archaic music and long aesthetics. I was puzzled by it and it really took some time for me to begin to grasp what it is.

It was fascinating, to realise that there is a type of music, a musical universe, that somehow sounds so familiar and yet so strange. It was there, and that I liked the sound of it, but I didn’t understand anything of it. That provided a challenge that was very intriguing. I wanted to understand, wanted to grasp it, and wanted to try to make music on an archaic basis.

This is very much still a concept, an approach, an aesthetics, that I’m in the process of learning and understanding. This text is an attempt to describe how I understand it today, and how I’ve been using it so far.

 In short, archaic music can be described as music building on the oldest layers of Finnish traditional/historical material. Common features are short repetitive phrases, a limited tonal material, persistent repetition with constant, small-scale, variation, improvisation and an aesthetic built on slow development over long time. The ‘Tune’ as we know it, is not really present in archaic music: melodies are not considered to be defined, closed units, but rather starting points for music making, variation and improvisation. The slow development and long time perspectives creates both possibilities and challenges. The musical dramaturgy as we’re used to it gets dissolved and a completely different musical world emerges.

The performance praxis is based both on factual knowledge about how these tunes and songs have been performed in the past, and by ideas developed today. As I have understood it, a lot of today’s playing of archaic music is heavily influenced by the thinking (and music making) of Heikki Laitinen.

Another aspect of archaic music is how it relates to the development of music over a long period of time. What does it mean that we today play music that has its roots thousands of years back in history? And if we ask about the history, then why not ask what this music will sound like a thousand years into the future from now, as well? What does it mean to play music in a culture which is memory based and orally transmitted over thousands of years? Finnish language only existed as an oral language until the middle ages, the music was probably mainly memory based even longer than that, so the question is very relevant if we want to understand the music in a historic/cultural context. These thoughts and questions are very integrated in the idea of archaic music: to me they were completely new, and opened up exciting doors to new ways of relating to music.

(Random anecdote: during my stay in Helsinki, I read a book called Riddley Walker by Russel Hoban. I got my hands on the book in a quite random way, had never heard about the author before, and didn’t know anything about the book before reading it, but it turned out to feature exactly some of these ideas.)

To get a starting point in understanding archaic music,  I was told to listen to music by Hiite, Trepaanit, Arja Kastinen, Antti Paalanen and others, and slowly, I began to grasp what archaic music can be, and what the consequences are of this long aesthetics.

As it began to grow on me, I realised that there are several aspects of archaic music that touch on ideas I’ve carried with me for a long time. With some of these, the concept of long aesthetics provided a new way of understanding and developing these ideas, and a deeper understanding for the (artistic) consequences.

 Archaic aesthetics provided a completely new approach to variation. My variations of tunes before, had been based on the idea of keeping the shape and form of the tune. Changing one note for another, maybe mirroring rhythms or melodic figures or turning scale movements into triads or the other way around. But almost always keeping with the structure of the tune, not adding beats or bars and not changing the harmonic structure.

With an archaic approach to variation the result is quite different. Instead of approaching the whole tune (or a whole part of the tune) at the same time, I will divide it into much smaller sections, maybe one or two bars, maybe even just a few beats, and then loop these elements and create small-scale variations in rhythm, note sequence etc. If it is a tune with very elaborate character (e.g. a lot of semi-quaver figures) I might also try to scale it down to a more skeletal version, before I start making variations. When I feel that I’m ‘done’ with one element I move on to the next one and do the same with that one.

Treating tunes like this, provides a completely different way of understanding them. When I’ve been doing variations in this way, I have been able to find patterns and structures in the tunes that I otherwise wouldn’t have found. I have also frequently found similarities and connections between different tunes that were hidden when I treated them in a more conventional way.

I have been using variation as a method of challenging myself, both technically and musically, but also as a way of challenging the music itself. By exploring different ways of making variations, I have challenged my own idea of where the limits of the tune are.

Another aspect of playing which is closely related to variation is improvisation. This is also an important feature in the archaic music, and making archaic improvisation has both been a way of exploring the idea of archaic music itself, but also a way of developing my own musicality. Exploring the small-scale, down to earth, ‘simple’ aspects of archaic music making has opened up my mind to musical qualities that didn’t use to interest me very much. Tone quality, and making use of variations in tone quality, intonation and rhythmical details are some of the aspects of my playing that I feel have developed by doing (archaic) improvisations and using improvisation as a tool for development. It has also lead to a greater feeling of artistic freedom.

In the end, perhaps the most inspiring concept within the world of archaic music is the idea that there are no tunes.

Music Marathon

Another idea of mine where the long aesthetics can provide useful tools and understanding is playing for a really long time without break. This is still only an idea I have: I want to make a dance/music marathon where the music just goes on and on and on, without a break. Like a folk music rave, but with live music. Where the same dance just goes on and on and on. And then gradually melts into another dance. So far, I haven’t attempted to carry this out, but it really is something I want to do at some point. And trying to understand the concept of long aesthetics has somehow put this idea in a new light. Now I begin to realize what it actually means to play the same tune for 10 minutes. Or 30, or 60. What possibilities it creates and what difficulties and challenges comes with it. It makes it possible to use really slow musical development, since the long time will make it possible to still create a great line through the music. But it also means that the conventional ‘drama’ of a tune is dissolved: it simply moves to fast. And it certainly provides both physical and mental challenges – to keep the energy in the playing and to keep the focus for such a long time really takes some practicing.

All this is consequences I didn’t really think about, before I started trying to understand archaic music and long aesthetics.

Archaic aesthetics and the concept of Art

The irony.

 Archaic aesthetics is in many ways one big questioning of ‘the Artwork’ as a closed, defined unit, and thus a questioning of Art as we know it. Archaic music and archaic aesthetics is built on completely different principles than the ones we use to define Art. In fact, they are much closer to the ideas of functional music, music which is more about principles and concepts than about the Work of Art. And still, I strongly associate the archaic ideas with (folk) music as an art form. I could even go as far as saying that beginning to understand archaic aesthetics was an essential part in understanding what folk music as Art could be.

Oh, the irony.

There are no tunes (there is only inspiration)

 Probably the idea that has provoked my thinking the most since I first heard about it, is the thought that there are no tunes. The idea was presented to us in a seminar with Heikki Laitinen while we studied ad SibA and when I first heard of it, I thought it was really disturbing. The Tune, I would say, is at the heart of Swedish folk music. I have grown up learning tunes, with teachers who have been telling me that the only important thing is the tune: we don’t need arrangements or harmonies or fancy concert clothes or anything else, as long as we have the tune and do it justice by playing well. (In a larger perspective, of course, this reflects the romantic idea of the Work.)

The idea itself is fairly simple. The tune as we know it, is an artefact without that has no (historical) validation. There simply are no tunes. There might be ideas for tunes, themes, structures, dance types etc. But the closed, defined, entity which is an A-part like this and a B-part like this and you repeat them over and over again (perhaps with small variations, but always staying true to the tune) is a falsification invented by 19th/20th C. thinking.

When I started to think about it, the idea intrigued me and I found it fascinating. Of course, I thought a bit about whether it had historical accuracy or not. (And when talking with Swedish folk music historian Magnus Gustafsson, he greatly questioned the idea of discarding the tune as an entity, but did approve of some of the implications the idea has.)
But in the end the historical (lack of?) correctness of the idea didn’t matter to me. I found the idea interesting and inspiring, I wanted to understand it and I wanted to understand how that idea could affect my playing. If there are no tunes, what can we then do with the material found in old manuscript books? If I discard the idea of a tune, but rather treat the notes as a suggestion, an idea, what happens when I play the ‘tunes’ I already know? What can I do with them? The more I thought about it, the more inspiring I found it, and the more I began to get ideas of how to turn the idea into music. It opened up doors to completely new ways of treating old material. New ways of interpreting old manuscripts and the material found there.

A lot of the methods I have been using when exploring this idea are found in the text about archaic music. In Finland they make a distinction between pellimanni music and archaic music, where the pellimanni (swe: spelman, eng: fiddler/(folk) musician) music roughly corresponds to what is called folk music in Sweden and the rest of the Nordic countries. (Denmark has a more anglified definition of folk music, including also singer/songwriter type of music (visesang), but that is again another discussion.) And it is in the tension field between archaic music and the thinking that surrounds it, and pellimanni music, that I have worked the most with the idea that there are no tunes.

My quest is to try to understand how this idea can be turned into music, if I use the pellimanni repertoire of Skåne that I’ve been playing all my life. In trying to connect the methods and features of archaic music with the pellimanni music, I have found great inspiration in Polish folk (mainly the mazurek- and oberek tradition of the Mazovia region) music and in the hardingfele repertoire from Norway. Both these traditions have similarities with both pellimanni music and archaic music, both when it comes to how the tunes are made up, and how they are being treated by the musicians. In the end, I feel that this is still very much work in progress. It is fascinating, but also frustrating and annoying to find that this ‘simple’ idea, that ‘there are no tunes’, is so difficult for me to turn into musical praxis.

To try to understand the idea, and get closer to it, I have made a lot of experiments with trying to dissolve the tunes while playing them. One method has been making variations with the method I described under archaic music. Another one has been to start with playing just a single note, and then gradually adding notes, rhythms etc. to slowly get closer to ‘the tune’ but often never really getting there.

Something I haven’t done very much yet, but intend to work more with in the future, is to treat the tunes according to principles of modal music. Somehow I feel that my sense of a ‘tune’ is very connected to my perception of (Swedish) folk music as mainly being structured according to harmonic principles. If I could find a more modal approach to playing the tunes, I think that would bring me closer to a world where there are no tunes.

I don’t know how fruitful these experiments have been, and I don’t know how good they actually are, if the aim is to understand what it means that there are no tunes, but at least it has been interesting, and resulted in some music that I wouldn’t have done otherwise.

One of the reasons why I have to struggle so much with really understanding the idea, and how to make music from it, is that tune as idea and entity is so strong within me. It is what I have grown up with and it is what I have been taught throughout my musical life. This new way of approaching music is based on completely different concepts of what music is, and I suppose it takes some work and time, to get that idea incorporated in my playing. It probably doesn’t help either that this idea also contradicts conventional thinking about music in western society.

[As soon as I get hold of the recordings here will come a musical example from the exam concert in May 2013, of what kind of music all these ideas have resulted in.]


My thinking about this idea is also interesting on a meta-level. One of the things that occupy me, and that puzzles me as an artist, is how to incorporate theoretical ideas into musical practice. This is a very concrete example of how it can be done. Of course, this is something which is based on an idea which is already about music, but it has other implications (about originality for instance, and the right of the artist, any artist, to make their own decisions) and it is possible to derive ideas about the world in general from it, the same way that it would be possible to derive the no-tunes idea from ideas about society and the world.
For me, this question illustrates very well the possibilities and power of combining musical practice and theoretical ideas, and through that, I find it very inspiring not only for the music that can be created straight from the idea itself, but from all the other music it suggests could be created from other ideas.


The idea that there are no tunes is for me deeply connected with the whole way of thinking at the KaMu-department at SibA. It seems to me that it is at the root of much of the artistic work that is carried out by teachers as well as present and former students. For example I put this idea together with the concept of “the three-day wedding musician” (first presented to me by harmonica player Jouko Kyhälä at a seminar during the Nordtrad conference in Helsinki april 2012): In order to be able to play for dancing for three days in a row, the musician didn’t actually (or necessarily) have a repertoire that covered that much material, but instead had concepts for tunes, musical skeletons and themes that were used for variation and to create “new” “tunes” on the spot.


The definition of Art is a difficult one, something which has been subject to quite a few dissertations on its own. As I said, I am not after a perfect and water proof definition of Art, but rather I’m looking into what does Art mean to me. What connotations do I give the word, what meaning does it have to me. In the end it is a very powerful word, that in the end changed a lot of my thinking about myself and my music making. So what do I put in to it?

 When I think about it, I have had a tendency to favour the aspects of Art that easily could be considered positive.

Art for me means freedom. It means doing crazy and weird things. It is a perspective, a process and a way of thinking, rather than a result or a concrete object. It is a way of thinking that allows me to do whatever I like. A way of thinking that allows me to trust myself, and trust that what I do is Art. It means crossing my own boundaries, breaking my own limitations – techical and mental. Art is exploring. It means following a very personal and individual path, trusting your own judgement. It means leaving the comfort zone, moving into the unknown, away from the answers provided by following someone else’s path. It means unlimited space to fill up. Art means asking questions. Art means creating connections between things that were thought or concidered to be separated. It means diversity, it means communication, it means letting out the inner voices. It means feelings.

I have tended to think less about the more (in my opinion) problematic aspects of art:
that it creates a division between performer/creator and audience. That it is elitistic, a concept that is strongly associated with the (male, white) genius, high status and upper class.

I have also conciously chosen not to define Art in any strict way. I am aware that there are incoherent and paradoxal thinking in what is written here, in how I describe Art. But what is important to me is not to have an exact definition of Art, what it is and what it isn’t. What is important to me is just the experience, that when I started to think of myself as art, and my practice as an artistic practice, I experienced increased freedom and increased space within which I could work.

Together with Function art can be said to make up a Dichotomy. Or rather: a duality.