I first began composing when my dad purchased a music notation program so that he could make himself practice tapes of his choir music.  I saw this program just sitting there, and thought I'd give it a try.  If I'd only known then what I'd be getting into . . . 
     My first composition lessons were fabulous.  I learned simple harmony and form through guided composing assignments.  One week we would talk about modes, and the next week I would have to bring in a piece written in A-B-A form that used two modes and was 24 measures long.  These assignments culminated in the composition of a Sonatina for piano.
     While I was learning traditional rudiments of classical composition, my teacher was simultaneously exposing me to 20th Century classical music.  As far as I knew at the time, classical music stopped at Debussy except for the didactic books I'd play from in my piano lessons.  I had two tapes to listen to, one of iconoclasts and one of minimalists.  If you don't know who or what the iconoclasts and minimalists are, don't worry.  Just know that they are very different from one another.
     Having that foundation, I began really composing.  I started to explore the melodies floating through my head, trying to figure out the rhythm I was thinking of, and trying to make something meaningful and coherent out of it all.
     And then I went to college.

     My first two years at college were remarkable.  I went to concerts constantly, checked out stacks of recordings from the library, and studied piles of scores.  I read biographies about different composers, and talked to all kinds of people about the music they were listening to.  It was a great time of discovery for me.
     There was one composer who really caught my attention.  I had first been introduced to the music of Steve Reich when I listened to that tape with the minimalists on it.  I found more of Reich's music at college, and began listening and reading.  One of the major influences in his music was West African drumming, so I picked up a CD of African drumming. 
     With that one CD, 3 years of personal discovery began.

     My sophomore year of college, I began taking composition lessons with Dr. Kleinsasser.  For the first time in my life, I had someone ask me, "Why?"  Why do you compose?  Why did you choose this note?  Why do you think this piece is beautiful?  Why can't you stand this piece? 
     I didn't know.  I didn't have an answer.  And my thoughts about music started to fall apart.  I wasn't sure where to go, or what to do, or how to write, or what was right.  But I started to feel it in my music.  I wasn't satisfied composing.  I didn't enjoy listening to my pieces as much; which, of course, does wonders for a young composer's confidence.
     But I was still researching African music.  And I'm glad I was, because it suddenly hit me:

"To the African, the proper standards of evaluation are the psychological and symbolical, not the formal, or structural, or technical, even though he recognizes their importance and allows fully for them."
-J. H. Kwabena Nketia

To write "my music" and to want to write "great music" suddenly felt selfish and unimportant to me.

     Dr. Kleinsasser and I have often talked about how music is in the space between the notes; between the sounds.  Music is in the relationships people create or extract from the sound.  This idea suddenly made more sense; but more importantly, it also suggested yet another level.  Music is in the relationships people create with one another.  It is the time shared working, and playing, and dancing, and laughing, and listening, and growing.
     Now, the fundamental element that inspires all my music is people.  It is the thought that music can be used to bring people together; to help us understand each other; to release our sorrow and mourn together; to celebrate or meditate in the presence of God.  This is the beauty of music.  In every moment of my life where music has touched me in a significant way, it has always been the people with whom that moment was shared that made it resonate so deeply.
     This is my gift to you. This is my music.
 

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