Reflections on Life, Death and Music
by Ben Siems, soundtrack composer and jazz/classical/folk musician
As a composer and performing musician, I am fascinated by the myriad ways in which various cultures incorporate music into end-of-life celebrations. Many communities in Africa and the Americas believe that drums carry the voices of the ancestors; playing drums during a funeral helps the soul of the departed to cross over safely to the afterlife. A traditional Irish wake would be incomplete without some troubadour singing tales about the loved one who has passed on. In Hmong culture, singers play an even more prominent role in funerals. They sing directly to the soul of the departed, describing the journey the soul must undertake to return home to that person's birthplace. Without such guidance, the soul may become lost and become a lonely, wandering ghost. Common to all of these cultures is a belief that music connects living people and their departed loved ones to the eternal.
Among modern U.S. cities, New Orleans has by far the most recognizable tradition of music as an integral part of end-of-life celebrations. A boisterous funeral parade through the streets of the Crescent City is one of the iconic images of American life. That makes sense, for no city is more wholly identified with music than New Orleans. Jazz is New Orleans, and New Orleans is jazz (and all of its cousins, including Zydeco, Cajun music, the blues, and many more). Music permeates all aspects of life on the Bayou. To have a funeral in New Orleans without music would be to imply that the deceased had never lived.
Like Hmong chanting, Irish musical storytelling, and African drumming, jazz is a music of improvisation. That strikes me as particularly appropriate for an end-of-life occasion. Improvisational music is never static or fixed. In the hands of the musicians who perform it, it goes through a constant journey of re-creation, regeneration, and rebirth. In the process, it travels across the spectrum of human emotion, from the most ecstatic joy to the most gut-wrenching sorrow. I cannot think of a more apt metaphor for a celebration that is about not only the sadness and pain of loss, but also the enduring joy, hope and light that the departed has given to all those who were fortunate enough to know him or her.
Although life in Minnesota is of a different character than life in New Orleans, it seems to me that here, too, many end-of-life celebrations could be enriched and deepened through the performance of music, even jazz. And speaking for myself, if my family and friends choose to send me off New Orleans-styel, well that will be just fine by me.