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Photo by Paul Blandford

Musical notes, and recollections

DESPITE HIS PARENTS’ MISGIVINGS, CHARLES CAMILLERI FOLLOWED HIS INSTINCTS AND TOOK UP A MUSICAL CAREER THAT HAS BEEN HUGELY SUCCESSFUL, BOTH HERE AND ABROAD. TODAY HE TELLS RAMONA DEPARES ABOUT HIS DECISION TO GAMBLE ON A CAREER IN MUSIC AND THE ROAD HE TOOK TO ACHIEVING HIS GOALS.

Many musicians and composers are afraid of the word ‘chaos’ and of the lack of order and structure that the word, even when applied to a music score, implies.

Not Charles Camilleri. The maestro, lauded the world over for his gifted talents, positively thrives on musical chaos and the opportunity for creativity it offers. Indeed, in ‘Thoughts and Observations on Music’, one of Prof. Camilleri’s books on the subject, he is quoted as saying that "order really exists in chaos – everything is presented to us in chaos. The artist does not impose order on chaos but rather discovers the order already present in that chaos".

His formula seems to have worked. Prof. Camilleri is probably the most successful and well-known composer in Malta: his original works have been played in various countries, including London and the States. His is one of the few names that anyone who has some Maltese blood running in his veins invariably recognises, whether or not he is interested in music.

"I have always had music in my house," he said. "My mother used to play the guitar, we were all quite musical. But from the very beginning I remember that I wanted to create my own music and not just play someone else’s! This rebellious streak of creativity often got me into trouble with my piano teacher. I would always re-arrange the pieces she gave me to practise at home to suit my own liking."

And so his early childhood was spent practising the piano and being told off for daring to "re-arrange" Mozart or Beethoven.

"My father used to say I had crooked ears!" The composer said, laughing affectionately at this recollection.

Then came the young pianist’s eleventh birthday and the creativity which had till then been bubbling under the surface was allowed a free reign. The result was a lively ‘festa’ march which was played at the village feast. This seemed to seal Prof. Camilleri’s fate: even at such a young age he knew that his future was with music.

"I actually got paid a pound note by the band for that composition," he said, the pride of recollection lighting up his eyes.

Perhaps surprisingly, the Camilleri family were not too keen to have their son choose that particular road, with both his mother and father scared that the teenager would abandon his academic studies in favour of the arts. It was a frequent occurrence for the composer’s father to give away the boy’s piano, hoping, as it were, to dampen his enthusiasm.

Just as frequently, the pianist’s mother would rent it back while her husband was away on business.

"My mother was always the softer one!" he said, laughing. "More often than not she’d give in to my musical demands. Dad, on the other hand, would caution me and re-iterate time and time again that if I weren’t careful I’d end up playing the piano in Valletta’s notorious Strait Street! Today I don’t blame him. If you look at what most musicians of the time did, playing in Strait Street was exactly it. Åfter all, it was the sole entertainment spot on the island."

Luckily, his father’s fears never materialised: the worried parent, in fact, managed to persuade his son to complete his academic studies at the Lyceum before dedicating his life to music. Not that Prof. Camilleri’s interest waned: at the Lyceum he would spend most of his money on buying biographies of well-known composers.

"Reading these biographies was almost like seeing my life in print, or rather the life I wanted to make for myself. Even back then I used to tell myself that I wanted to do for Malta the same as these composers had done for their countries. I wanted my brand of music to be known," Prof. Camilleri continued.

I asked whether he considered himself to have been lucky.

"I believe that if you believe in something strongly enough in life, if you are really determined to succeed at what you set your mind to, then you’ll make it. The important thing in life is the journey and not the destination,’ the maestro replied.

By the time he was at the Lyceum, his taste in music had taken a definite orientation. The family business often took the Camilleri family to Tunis and when it did, the young Charles accompanied them. It was there that he first became acquainted with folk music and the Eastern version of ‘ghana’. Back home, he would use his father’s Filco radio to tune into Eastern folk music stations.

"Listening to the ‘ghana’, I realised that what my music teacher was teaching me did not tally with everybody’s taste. The folk people enjoyed different tunes and music. I knew something was different and was determined to do something about it," he explained.

A highlight in his youth that he still remembers with great pleasure, was being taken to the Proms in London by the Lyceum. Listening to the music at the Royal Albert Hall he suddenly made the firm decision that his life would take a musical direction. Back home, his family – although suspecting it for quite a while – was not exactly elated.

"I think they wanted me to take on what they called a proper job, meaning a nine-to-five one," he admitted. "They did not view musicians as job-holders! But I don’t believe in that kind of thing. After all, the office job scenario is a con that we ourselves have created. Who says that life has to revolve around a traditional office job? Think of how limiting to creativity these jobs are."

I asked the musician what he meant by this statement.

"How many people are stuck in the same daily routine?" he asked. "They wake up, go to the office, get back home, watch some TV and go to sleep. And then they open their eyes the following day and it’s the same old story over again. Can you imagine anything more boring? No wonder I chose a life of music and creativity over this kind of life!"

The turning point came on Prof. Camilleri’s eighteenth birthday, when the whole family emigrated to Australia, which at the time was ‘a cultural desert’. The aspiring composer decided that two years of this desert were more than enough and when he was 20 he upped and left for London on his own.

"I was young, I had no job but I wasn’t about to give up without trying," he said. "In London I met Harold Fielding the impresario and ended up spending some five years touring theatres there. I wrote music, I conducted and I managed to integrate myself in the musical circle and got to know the people who mattered. London became my second home."

Enjoyable as it was, when opportunity beckoned Prof. Camilleri, now in his mid-twenties, flew off to America, was asked to do some programmes there and spent what he described as the most exciting 10 years of his life.

"To be in New York in the 60s was electrifying," he said. "In the States and Canada I did everything, everything related to music, that is. I conducted, I wrote film scores, I was published and then I was appointed conductor with CBC – a wonderful opportunity. Naturally I loved the money, however, around 1965 I decided to quit and dedicate the rest of my life to composition."

And so it was back to London, where the maestro was musically interviewed by Arthur Jacobs on the BBC.

It was then that Prof. Camilleri was introduced to Basil Ramsey (head of publications at Novello’s, London) and Bernard Hermann (the composer who wrote the scores for Hitchock’s movies).

He was signed up with them as a composer and from then on dedicated his career to full-time composing, dividing his time between London, Malta and other countries. To date, his compositions number over 300, of which half are recorded on about 36 CDs which have been sold all over the world.

And Malta? Throughout the time he was abroad, Prof. Camilleri still kept closely in touch with his island of birth. In his own words, he "loved the Mediterranean atmosphere too much". Which is why, 10 years ago, the composer returned to Malta to make it his base.
"I could not survive without travelling," he admitted. "But I like to know that my home in Malta is always here to come back to."

His assessment of the Maltese artistic scene is by no means negative; indeed, he believes that the talented musicians and artists are many – but few develop this talent into something lasting.

"Most Maltese have become critics and not actors," he said. "We criticise rather than take action and this has to change. But it’s a joy to see that everywhere more and more young people are turning to the arts. After all, creativity gives us a form of fulfilment and spirituality."

A fulfilment that is extended to all his family: his wife Doris is an established writer, his daughter Anya works in the film industry while his son Charles chose to follow his father’s footsteps by becoming a composer.

And his future plans? Many, it seems. After having last week premiered a new work inspired by the Mnajdra Good Friday disaster, the coming few months will see him featured in various festivals all over Europe. As he himself says, these days, flying to Sweden or England is pretty much the same as catching the bus to some Maltese village.