What is hip

(Part one of a proposed series in which I discuss the mechanics, techniques, joys and frustrations of composition)

Lets' start with a deceptively simple question. Establishing a tentative trend for opening blog posts with the line: 'I sometimes get asked...';

'...how do you know what notes to write?'

And the question is almost always 'know', not 'decide' or 'find'.  The questioner implies that I will have an absolute conviction in the 'correctness' of anything I write.  This is striking because, to be blunt, I often don't.  The experience of composition is like a process of engineered serendipity - not groping in the dark, but more like mining one's consciousness close to what we know in the past has been a fruitful seam. The precious mineral is there somewhere, but it is still an uncertain process as to how much of it we can get out, and what we can make with it having done so.

The hard part is when it comes to judging what is worth keeping. In this respect, one of the essential skills of composition is to be able to step outside from oneself and try to judge the work from an observer's perspective.  This is difficult, because it's nigh-on impossible to be truly objective about what is good in your work, and even, to a lesser degree, about others'.  But we can at least attempt to define what constitutes accomplishment in a chosen artistic field, and not just in music. (We are assuming here that all artists aim to create works that they feel are accomplished in some purpose - not necessarily a noble one - and that they strive to improve the effectiveness with each successive work). It seems to me that there are five primary criteria that all 'accomplished' artistic figures fulfil:

1. Originality of style: The majority of the artist's output is readily recognisable as theirs, and contains a number of stylistic 'fingerprints' which enable us to identify it as such. This does not mean that every feature of the work is unique to them alone, nor that every work exhibits the same recognisable motifs, but neither will it be blatantly derivative of another's style.

2. Originality of works: The artist does not repeatedly produce the same basic work with minor variations. An underlying template may be used, even one commonly found in the output of others, but this will allow sufficient scope for individuality that the observer does not consider differences between works to be merely superficial.

3. Technique: The artist will have a highly developed technical ability in his chosen field. This is to some extent an exchange process with the development of individual style (Stravinsky is technically very competent at being Stravinsky, because he has defined and subsequently refined what Stravinsky's style consists of) but it also confirms to wider cultural expectations and historical precedents within their discipline. There are several aspects to this:

3a. Quality of material: The artist is judicious in devising and refining their materials, such that even an observer with a similar level of knowledge cannot identify any significant flaws in the basic ideas or how they are carried through the work, other than personal taste.

3b. Suitability for the chosen medium: The artist does not attempt anything patently impossible or unsuitable for the medium they are working in. In addition, any inherent weaknesses are either avoided as best as possible or even used to some advantage.

3c. Control of material: Aside from possessing a mastery of fundamental techniques and existing conventions in their field, the artist will also have perfect control of their own innovations and original ideas for which no exact model exists.

4. Prolific-ness: The artist must produce a significant number of works. 'Significant' need not mean the thousands of works by Bach or Picasso, or even hundreds, but enough to demonstrate an ability to develop their style through time, and a sufficient diversity of creative ideas.

5. Recognition: Note that 'popularity' is an inadequate term for this aspect. 'Recognition' constitutes the interest and respect of peers, if not the wider populace. This need not be universally acknowledged, nor forthcoming within the artist's lifespan. Criticism will generally reinforce fulfilment of the criteria already discussed.

There are, of course, several factors which are more difficult to quantify.  The precise degree of 'originality', in particular, because maximum does not equal optimum in this discipline.  Even allowing for the varying degrees of 'experience' in any particular style that an observer has, there is a fairly consistent level of relation to 'known' works which helps us judge how far between yawningly derivative or discombobulatingly novel something is. The best artists have an innate feeling for where this point of balance lies.

I intend in the future to discuss a related question; whether composition can really be taught. I am fairly certain, however, that it can be learned.