6.6: Catherine Likhuta - Lesions
in the European tradition flourished most notably in the 19th century, many composers still conceive of their instrumental music in narrative terms. Composers continue to be inspired by stories and images from the physical world, and they continue to communicate those stories through sound. One such composer is Catherine Likhuta (b. 1981), who exclusively writes. We will examine a recent composition of hers that tells a deeply personal story—that of her mother’s struggle with the symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis.
Likhuta’s Inspiration
Likhuta was born in Ukraine, where she studied music at the Kyiv Glière Music College and the Tchaikovsky National Music Academy of Ukraine. She then moved to Australia to pursue a doctoral degree at the University of Queensland. Likhuta is also an accomplished pianist, and she frequently premieres and records her own works, which are heard all over the world.
Like Berlioz, Likhuta chose to provide the listener with a description of her music. We will therefore allow her to explain its contents and purpose in her own words:
Lesions was commissioned by Paul Dean for Ensemble Q and was written for Paul Dean, Trish O’Brien and Peter Luff.
The term “lesions” refers to regions in organs and tissue which have suffered damage through injury or disease, such as a wound, ulcer, abscess or tumour. I first heard this term in 2004, when my mother (age 42 at that time) was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Multiple Sclerosis. While she had suffered from many disturbing, unexplainable and painful symptoms for sixteen years prior to that, the diagnosis of MS did not bring us any relief or closure.
Virtually every family has a loved one who is suffering or suffered from an incurable illness. While this is a very heavy subject, I believe it is definitely worth talking about, for two simple reasons:
- To show those who are affected that they are not alone and that there are millions of people in the world who are going through similar struggles;
- To remind those lucky few who have not been affected that we have to keep looking for cures every day.
Lesions is written in four parts that represent four most common stages of dealing with incurable illness: Sadness, Anxiety, Denial and finally Acceptance. The absence of a pause between the last two movements has an extra-musical meaning: though denial and acceptance are antithetical states of mind, many patients find themselves stuck between these two for a long time, sometimes for the rest of their lives. The new reality is too difficult to accept, yet the symptoms are just as difficult to deny.
As Likhuta explains, Lesions is more than just a piece of music. It also fulfills both therapeutic and advocacy roles. Writing this piece provided relief for Likhuta, as she was able to translate her difficult experience into expressive sound. At the same time, she hopes that it will bring comfort to others in a similar situation. Lesions , however, is not meant only to provide solace: Likhuta hopes that it will also inspire action on behalf of those who suffer from currently incurable illnesses.
It might seem odd that such a personal creation should result from a commission —the process by which a performer, producer, or organization hires a composer to create a new musical work. When a work is commissioned, the composer is often provided with specific guidelines concerning instrumentation, length, and level of difficulty. Sometimes these requirements impede creativity, but the best composers have always been able to suit their style and ambitions to the performers and situation at hand. In this case, the commissioning musicians were longtime collaborators of Likhuta’s, and they were able to work together to bring her vision to life.
Likhuta has told us which emotions her music expresses, but she does not provide any details about how she captures feelings in sound. She presumes— correctly—that most listeners will easily perceive and understand the emotional states. Here, however, we will explicitly consider how these abstract emotions can be represented in musical terms.
Capturing the Stages of Grief in Music
|
Time |
Form |
What to listen for |
|---|---|---|
|
0’00” |
Sadness |
This section at first seems calm and resigned, but grows in volume and intensity; the motif introduced at the beginning will return throughout the work |
| 2’38” | Anxiety | The tempo immediately accelerates at the beginning of this section, which is generally unstable and unpredictable |
| 5’17” | Anger |
The energy of the work peaks in this section, which contains dissonant harmonies and aggressive rhythms |
| 7’43” | Acceptance |
This is the only section that is not preceded by a pause; the motif from “Sadness,” now with a new character, transforms into a waltz before finally fading away |
The first section, “Sadness,” is characterized by a repeated motif in the clarinet and cello. Over the top of this, the horn enters with a mournful melody. At first, the music is calm and stately. The melody, however, becomes increasingly agitated as it is passed from the horn to the clarinet. The volume increases and the rhythm loses its stability, until eventually we hear cries of anguish from the clarinet. When the opening motif returns, it is with a sense of resignation.
The second section, “Anxiety,” opens with a related motif, but the tempo is faster and the rhythm more agitated. This section is characterized by frequent change, as if the protagonist cannot get settled into place. Background motifs continually emerge, only to disintegrate and transform. There is no sense of key or tonal center. Instead, the pitches float uncomfortably in space.
“Denial,” the third section, opens with a series of dissonant chords, after which an aggressive motif in the cello establishes a frenetic tempo. The energy continues to build, and the music is frequently interrupted by pauses and rhythmic shifts. When the motif from the opening of the piece returns, marking the beginning of the “Acceptance” section, it has been transformed: It is now loud, strong, and insistent. This statement is followed by a new, waltz-like melody in the clarinet that returns us to the opening motif, now restored to its original character. Following the emotional journey of the piece, however, the motif means something new. It communicates sadness, yes, but the self-conscious sadness of one who has come to terms with loss.
This is the first textbook ever to include the music of Likhuta—and it may be the last. She is still near the beginning of her career, and although she has been very successful, it is difficult to predict which composers or works will enter the permanent concert repertoire and which will not. There is no doubt that Lesions is an excellent piece of music that deserves to be heard for a long time. However, countless such pieces have flashed into existence over the centuries, only to disappear when they fail to attract the attention of an influential performer or publisher. Permanency is largely a matter of chance. This visit with Likhuta, therefore, is a valuable reminder that, for every “famous” composer or work of the past, there are thousands of wonderful compositions and creators awaiting (re)discovery.