With the occurrence of any national—or international—horror such as 9/11, a society wounded in spirit will inevitably throng toward the creative arts to supply it with expression and comfort. Perhaps more than any other art, music has always fulfilled this function in every known society.

The privilege of existing for and representing only one's self through one's work might no longer be relevant...

It is often beneficial for composers, as creators, to find points when we must reassess how best to use such capabilities that we have. We might contrive such catalysts for self-reflection, or find them imposed upon us, for better or worse. Artistic invention and development might very well depend upon such critical moments. The case may be made that the world of American musical composition today was—is—in need of such an impetus for self-reassessment, to an extent that being a composer in these pivotal times might actually prove quite stimulating.

Victoria Bond "This act of destruction needed to be balanced by acts of creativity."

What role does a creator's output play in the context of catastrophe? Can the events of 9/11 be used as source of inspiration, or even redemption? When a public needs us to administer our wares for curative purposes, should the very idea of Art as a self-gratifying entity prove secondary to a more immediate spiritual use, with the artist resuming once again the role so regarded as "cliché" during better days: that of Composer/Priest as Oracle, as Provider of Solace? The privilege of existing for and representing only one's self through one's work might no longer be relevant, as it never is when any number of factors cause a society to become nationalistic once again. (Of course, this very self-identity might evolve despite a composer's intentions, which are not always able to control what finally emerges on paper.)

Immediately after the September 11 attacks, while some composers felt the necessity for a direct response, others were numbed into a state of compositional paralysis. In a New York Times article published on September 23, 2001, John Corigliano predicted an outcome similar to that of the AIDS epidemic. Summarizing that theme for Ken Smith's article that appeared on the Web site NewMusicBox, Corigliano pointed out that composers had abandoned the conceits of the avant-garde and "began writing to their audiences directly and personally again. We began to find strength in American pluralism, which is as big a strength in music as it is in our political thought." ("Listening Beyond September 11," NewMusicBox 2001).

While at work on this article, I contacted several composers and asked them to share their thoughts with me. Composer and conductor Victoria Bond, who witnessed the burning and collapse of the towers from the roof of her apartment building, said, "It made me more determined than ever to put something meaningful into the world. This act of destruction needed to be balanced by acts of creativity. "I felt compelled to be more than a mere witness to my times, but rather to comment on them, and to reiterate the humanity which had been violated."

Menachem Zur was composing a Concerto for Orchestra when the disaster occurred, and found that his work took on deepened feelings of conviction and intensity. "My Concerto for Orchestra grew more intimate and more chamber-music-like, as an antithesis to the full orchestral 'big bang' sound and as a contrast to the magnitude of the September 11 tragedy. The decision to shape the concerto like chamber music, with many shades of soft dynamics, was a direct reaction to such an overwhelming event. My work was a statement that real power lies in a whisper." Zur, who lives in Israel, says that "writing music becomes a therapy during such periods" of disasters and terrorist activities.

John Corigliano "American pluralism...is as big a strength in music as it is in our political thought."

On the other hand, Jonathan Kramer, a professor at Columbia University, told me that he had composed nothing since 9/11 as of this past July, explaining that the recent terrorist attacks are "too enormous for me to deal with right now. And, while our information about why and how 9/11 happened is still full of propaganda and misinformation, I hardly think I am in a position to offer a musical commentary or reaction. I think my silence is my best response. Maybe some day, after I know and understand, and when people begin to forget, or even disbelieve (and there are already signs of that), then I will not only want but actually need to speak out in music. Right now it just seems too arrogant."

Indeed, as many composers promptly offered "memorials"—among them Samuel Adler (Show an Affirming Flame), John Adams (On the Transmigration of Souls), Richard Danielpour (An American Requiem), Stewart Wallace (Book of Five), and Kevin Puts (Common Ground)—as the initial horror thawed in the ensuing months after the attacks, more reservations were voiced about what a composer's reaction should be. Was writing a "memorial" the expected and accepted thing to do? If so, then how pure were one's motives? Mr. Kramer voiced his concern thus: "Some, indeed most, may find that composing is a way to come to terms with their grief and with their inability to understand. But there is often an opportunistic aspect to it, I'm afraid. "It is one thing to write a piece because that is the appropriate response, but it is quite another to market it because of its 'relevance,' to use the piece and through it 9/11 to promote a compositional career. I think composers should examine their motives very carefully."

"Noting the alarming trend of self-censorship prevalent this year in journalism and the arts," said composer Derek Bermel, "I feel an increasing responsibility to challenge narrow-minded and pseudo-patriotic notions of what art is and represents. The events of September 11 reminded me that America is a complex country which must begin to recognize and transcend the mistakes of our past. As artists we must not hold back from telling our own truths, resisting the pressures and temptations to create propaganda for political ends."

Perhaps we overestimate the role of deliberation within the compositions written subsequent to crisis. A trauma such as 9/11 would inevitably influence the voices of any creative medium, whether the response is intentional or intentionally indifferent. And even if not, could we ever avoid being pinioned as composers writing "post-WTC"?

This is indeed how we perceive the various musical developments that occurred after both world wars. Concurrent with the many drastic societal changes underway in Europe, new and revolutionary musical perspectives emerged that challenged the listener's ear, notably through increasing use of chromaticism and metric complexity. After World War II, innovations were even more dramatic. Within American music, these new approaches caused a stylistic shift, as composers who sought to reconcile European neo-classicism with American folk and popular elements were influenced by recent arrivals in America of composers such as Bartók, Stravinsky, and Schoenberg.

Christopher Rouse "I don't think it's possible to create anything worthwhile in the heat of an intense emotional experience."

But as audiences felt increasingly alienated, a rift occurred between those influenced by the European avant-garde and those who yet wrote music for the sake of the listener. Often, this latter music sought a style that could be personified as "American," incorporating the non-classical staples of local musical culture that so influence our society, such as jazz. The American music of recent years might be described as a "joyous eclecticism."

How might this style be affected after the events of the past year? Does the prospect of addressing this disaster—so unusually somber in every aspect—contradict the very idea of what constitutes American music? An answer could be that it is not even relevant for us, as composers, to ponder these issues. A year later, we are still smarting from the experience. As Christopher Rouse told Ken Smith for the aforementioned article that appeared on NewMusicBox, "I don't think it's possible to create anything worthwhile in the heat of an intense emotional experience. You file it away, and gain a certain distance from it until you have the ability to express it." Perhaps these questions are for the Adornos of our generation, or of our children's generation, to resolve. Perhaps they are too global, because it is rare for the actual music to adequately represent the intended ideological goal. Abstract intentions may act as the Muses. In the end, however, the notes themselves have the sole responsibility of effect upon the listener. Supply the audience with emotional or socio-political context beforehand, and the music ceases to exist in its own right, becoming, instead, a billboard for mere concept.

Part of the uniqueness of music is its role as metaphor—and thus, chameleon-like, it can be what we will it to be. Merely alter the backdrop, and Barber's Adagio for Strings, already having adopted certain symbolism when arranged into its choral "Agnus Dei" version, is now—with changed context—a slogan for the ravages of September 11, as represented in the HBO Special Music in Memoriam, narrated by Rudy Giuliani.

Eventually, the truth will emerge as the quality of a musical work becomes clearer over time, and the effect of "musical journalism" wanes. It is the more gradual evolution of fundamental expression, and less any contrived transformation of it, that will ultimately be more lasting. In the meantime, it is all too soon to tell what guise this new expression will assume. At the very least, we know that the truths will reveal themselves through the wisdom of elapsed time. And as composers, we can each—in the end—only speak for ourselves.