This coming week, I will be having a discussion with students at the Lutheran School of Theology in Gettysburg, PA about folk music, composition, and liturgy, three things that I am familiar with and fond of! I am very excited about my inclusion in Dr. Gilson Waldkoenig’s course, and have prepared responses to his initial queries for me. My responses were a great deal longer than I anticipated, and I went into so much depth, that I would like to share the essays here.

Dr. Waldkoenig asked me to elaborate on the incorporation of folk music traditions into my service Light into the World. What has emerged is an essay about my composition process, and about the importance of the service to me, and to my life.

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LIGHT INTO THE WORLD and ‘ROOTS’ MUSIC TRADITION

I don’t label the kind of music that I write as bluegrass or roots music. I grew up with folk music. Pete Seeger, Peter Paul & Mary, Joan Baez, John Denver. But all of those musicians learned from the ‘true’ roots musicians, from the blues and gospel singers, and from the early pioneers of ‘folk’ music, Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, among others. It was only in college that I really became interested in ‘roots’ music, and started to explore the possibilities. Previously, I had only been interested in jazz and classical music, growing to proficiency on the piano first, and then the upright bass. (And for a brief time at the beginning of college exploring my pop side, playing my love songs for that perfect woman I hadn’t yet found for anyone who would listen!) My last year of college, I picked up a banjo and learned how to play, and I revived my folk harmonies, and had a good buddy who taught me country and bluegrass. I was hooked!

The terminology ‘Roots Music’ only came about in the last decade or so, during the latest revival of folk music following the “O Brother Where Art Thou” movie craze. There is a fantastic article written by Jeff Todd Titon about Ralph Stanley and his new popularity, as well as several others online (visit the Echo Journal online at http://www.echo.ucla.edu/volume4-issue2/folk/index.html) that speak to the ‘O Brother phenomenon,’ or the latest folk revival (‘roots’ revival).

Even the term ‘bluegrass’ has been co-opted by the latest folk craze, in much the same way the term ‘hootenanny’ was adopted by the 60’s folk movement. According to contemporary lingo, my music, too, could be referred to as bluegrass, but in actuality, it is far from it. Bluegrass is a kind of music invented by Bill Monroe, a pioneer of old time music who changed the music to such an extent that he was required to create new terminology to describe his modern and cutting-edge techniques in performance. Alison Krauss is the most famous ‘bluegrass’ singer, and yet, what she sings is nothing like bluegrass. She sings sweet ballads, mastered beautifully with pop techniques, and rarely sings anything that resembles the speedy quintet-instrumental style that Monroe developed. She plays bluegrass, but doesn’t sing it. Her band mate Dan Tyminski sings bluegrass when the band cranks it up a notch.

What I’m getting around to is that nothing is what it seems. Nothing is pure, and our terminology is often skewed. That said, we listen to music most often rather unconsciously, and express our enjoyment of it, little concerned about the details of its heritage or content, if we find it pleasing.

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In no way, when I began writing Light into the World, did I write the service thinking that it would a ‘bluegrass’ service. Instead, I delved into the spiritual, musical, and theological issues within the liturgy, searching for meaning within the traditional constraints of the liturgical eucharistic framework. There is great depth there, and, to my frustration, a good deal of content has been benched in the last decades (with ‘contemporary’ and/or ‘praise’ musics) in favor of a simpler, smoother liturgy.

The musical aspects of this service came secondary to the scriptural aspects. After all, the melodies are far easier for me to find than the words. I strove for a simplicity of texts, simple chords so that children would be able to play the service as easily as adults, and singability. But at the same time, I wanted a spiritual, scriptural and musical depth to come through the music and fill the congregation with hope as they participated in the service.

So, after a roundabout beginning, to answer the question about how I have incorporated folk musical traditions from North America into my service, or any of my services, I must address two issues. 1) The aspect of soul. 2) The disparity of the music written for and played by youth and adults within the church body.

1) I have had a unique experience in music, as compared with many of my liturgical composition colleagues. Most contemporary composers are guitar playing folk musicians with other careers. And most traditional composers are organists or musicians within the church that have a practical training on an instrument, and in the performance of liturgy within a church context. I am a trained, PhD (almost) composer, and have been trained in all of the rudiments of composition, from Bach to John Cage, and have developed a unique approach. If you would like samples of my ‘art’ compositions (classical is incorrect terminology for any music created after Beethoven), please visit www.kentgustavson.com/performancemusic — this is music not created for use by people in the practical world, as was Bach’s music. This is art music created for the few academics who find the music accessible, engaging or stimulating.

The other side of my musical personality is as a performer and songwriter. We often think of figures such as Bob Dylan as composers, but in actuality their role in society is far different from that of a composer. They are far more practical, and accessible.

For me, my music sits uncomfortably between these two poles. That of accessibility, and that of intellect. So I made a decision to create music for the purpose it is designed for. When I compose for a congregation, I compose music that will suit that congregation. Both Light into the World and Mountain Vespers were created with specific congregations in mind. And simply because I created those two services, and am a sometimes performer of ‘roots’ music, I have been labeled as such by my contemporaries and the liturgical media.

I am comfortable in my awarded role as bluegrass composer of the Lutheran church, but disappointed that I have not found a way to become accessible to a more varied audience as of yet. I am working towards that end, and am very interested in helping to generate a movement of young composers composing music that will help to fuel the church into the next generation. We have to be very aware, as pastors, musicians, and lay people, that we include all ages, and all walks of life. We have a great disconnect on our hands now.

2) That brings me well to my next point. There is a great disparity between music intended for children and music intended for adults within the Lutheran church today. My music, I hope, is something that is accessible to both old and young, wealthy and indigent congregations. What we, for the sake of the ease, label as bluegrass, can really be a bridge between young and old congregants. Vocal harmonies set the older church members at ease, comfortably accompanied by non-electric instruments, leaving space for rumination and contemplation. Fast rhythms, new instruments, and loud singing inspires young people to participate. In short, what has been termed as ‘bluegrass’ or ‘roots’ within my music is fun, fast, easy to play and sing, and accessible to all.

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It is time to break the traditions that have locked the church doors to young families and young people. But that doesn’t mean that we all have to listen to Rock’n’Roll in the church sanctuary. it doesn’t mean that we have to dumb down our liturgies to what we believe young people want to hear.

It makes sense to incorporate folk traditions into church services and habits, because those traditions are in some way familiar to us, connect us to our place, and fill us up with joy. I plan to write music in many traditions over the coming years, always searching to connect to congregations around the country, seeking to help them connect to God in worship and in prayer.

My goal is to be a chameleon. I have studied Arabic music, I have my degrees in classical music, and I am a performer of old time and popular music. But, foremost, I need to write the music I believe will be accessible to people in the church.

Unfortunately, a marketing spin must always accompany a liturgical venture. And once a label has been applied to a composer, liturgist or service, it creates a disconnect from all of the other styles that musician or liturgist might be comfortable, willing, or excited about exploring. If I write a Bach-like chorale setting of the Eucharist, it will be termed as bluegrass. That is an unfortunate side effect of the entire process, and something I never intended. I write the music that connects me to God, and I hope that others find the same connection in the singing and playing of the Gospel passages that I have condensed, re-worded and congealed into a little offering of worship.

Ideally, I wish I would be identified as the composer who inserted the line, “Let us pray for our enemies” into the sung liturgy, and the composer who reminded worshippers to remember children in our prayers. And the liturgist who brought back the true heart of the Agnus Dei texts: “Like a sheep led to be sheared, you did not open your mouth. Like a lamb you died for all of sin, you were broken and poor. You take away the sin of the world, you cleanse us from unrighteousness. We shall walk in light, as you are in the light. Have mercy on us. Grant us peace.” Most Agnus Dei settings have been simply condensed to, “Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us, grant us peace.” What are we missing here!

And the liturgist who wrote, “Let us go as light into the darkness, as sunshine into night, where there is hunger or hatred, where there is no joy…” Let us go out into the world and make our mark. Let us fill the world with our light that we have found in Christ, and in the wonder of this message of peace, hope and love!

I don’t want to be SIMPLY the ‘bluegrass’ or ‘roots’ or ‘American folk tradition’ composer. I was just trying to find a medium that was both accessible to me, and to both young and old within the church. And my service was labeled and pre-packaged by others. Now I’m just along for the ride, trying to find my way through a tangle of friendships and failures, trying to carve out a niche for composers like me who have a gift to give, but no one willing to take it. I plan to work my entire life towards the goal of enriching the relationship between congregations and the music within their lives and worship. Because there is a great power in that connection, and if we neglect it, or if we ‘dumb it down,’ we are losing a great deal of what our religion and our belief, as Lutherans, is based on.

Ours has become a stale body, categorizing and isolating populations within the church body, forbidding gay pastors from preaching, and locking out styles of music that don’t quite fit. We need to look below the surface, and below the service, and see the messages, and the soul within. Let’s find our common rhythms, our common melodies. Let’s find our new Amazing Grace.

You all know Amazing Grace, but you don’t call it bluegrass. It’s certainly more bluegrass than I am, brought by a blind man from Appalachia to New York City on a Greyhound bus, sung for a small audience of intellectuals and folk musicians. Then sung by dozens of artists in a several year period in the early 1960s, recorded by Judy Collins, brought to Britain and performed on the bagpipe, eventually making its way back to the pipe bands playing for funerals of dignitaries.

We need to sometimes forget about the mirror and turn around, and see the world in a different way.