I had planned to write a blog post about hockets—the technique central to my new record, Colouring Hockets. Through the process of composing that music, I gained a deeper understanding and appreciation for hocketing, and I wanted to share these insights. But as I reflect on the current state of the world—one that seems to be growing increasingly apathetic, divisive, and unethical—I realize that composers, like everyone else, are not isolated from the world’s larger issues.

Back in 2010, I wrote a guest post for Ethan Iverson’s blog, Do the Math, about the practice of ethical composition. The political climate today has led me back to that essay, and, as my students know, I am a firm believer in revision. In revisiting this piece, I have the chance to renew and refine my ideas, especially now, when they seem more urgent and relevant than ever.

Since November 6th, I’ve been asking myself: What can I do to help bring more peace, compassion, and justice into the world? Ethics and empathy are at the forefront of my mind. In these tense times, I want to contribute positively, not add to the noise. I keep returning to the idea that solitary practices, such as composing, can be transformative—not just for the individual practitioner but for others as well. For me, composing, playing drums, and meditating are my primary solitary practices. While this blog focuses on composition, I believe any discipline that requires deep self-reflection can serve as an ethical or spiritual practice if we choose to engage with it mindfully.

So, the question becomes: How can composing music not only enrich our own lives but also have a positive impact on humanity?

The creative process is difficult to put into words, but I’ve always been fascinated by the experience musicians undergo while creating a piece. Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating how the process of composition shapes the music itself. What I’ve discovered is that composing can be more than just a craft—it can also be a vehicle for personal growth, provided we remain open and aware during those challenging moments when tough decisions arise. This insight has helped take some of the pressure off of writing “perfect” music, because I’ve realized that simply practicing composition ethically is, in itself, a worthy goal. In other words, it’s not just about what you practice, but how you practice.

Through my experiences with meditation, I’ve come to understand how composing can offer similar opportunities for self-confrontation. When we composers sit alone in a room, focusing for hours on making thousands of decisions, it’s easy to overlook the significance of those choices. Yes, the stakes may not be as high as those faced by a surgeon, but how we behave in those moments of solitude matters. The decisions we make when no one is watching can reveal important aspects of our character. Because those decisions, whether we realize it or not, can shape our future actions far beyond the creative process.

When composing, we inevitably encounter obstacles—moments when we realize we might be repeating ourselves or unknowingly copying someone else’s work. This is especially common in the early stages of a career, when we’re still finding our voice. I’ve faced this myself, and I know other composers have too. The question is: What do we do next?

Here are some options that come to mind:

1. Go ahead with the composition and hope no one notices.
2. Throw it away.
3. Keep tweaking it until it becomes something new and original.
4. Acknowledge the influence and make it an arrangement of the original.

I’ve chosen each of these options at different points in my career, but I most often settle on either #3 or #4. These feel the most honest to me. And the reason they feel right is simple: awareness. When I am present and conscious in the moment of decision, I can’t choose #1 without feeling a good amount guilt. This brings me to the often-cited (but misinterpreted) quote: “Good composers borrow, but great composers steal.”

This phrase, often attributed to Stravinsky, Picasso, or even William Faulkner, actually comes from T.S. Eliot, who said:

“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion.”

While this quote has been simplified into a slogan, its true meaning aligns with option #3 above: transformation through adaptation. In the context of composition, “stealing” becomes a shortcut born from impatience, stress, or a fear of failure. It’s not true creativity, but a quick fix. For me, the better approach is to work from an original seed—whether that’s a melody, a rhythm, or an idea—and grow something new from it. If I happen to draw from another composer’s material, I will credit them, not to cover my tracks, but to honor their influence. And, perhaps, to introduce listeners to new music they may not have heard before.

But no matter the process, every compositional challenge presents an opportunity for personal growth. When we face a difficult choice or a creative dead-end, we have a chance to develop our character and practice good ethics. If we are alone in a room and take the dishonest path, we are setting a precedent for future behavior. But if we confront our decisions with honesty and awareness—if we act according to principle rather than the pressure of deadlines—we emerge from the process better than when we entered. This practice of self-reflection has become the greatest reason for me to compose: it helps me improve as a human, which, in turn, can contribute positively to the world outside the composing room.

Some might call this “cheesy” or idealistic, but I have come to truly value this approach. If I wanted to “poke the bear”, I could even say it’s a way of becoming “woke”—a positive term that has been co-opted and misrepresented in today’s political discourse. But I digress.

Of course, the end result of our compositions is important, but focusing on the practice of composition can be just as meaningful, whether you’re a beginner or an experienced composer. It takes some of the pressure off the need for “success” and allows us to appreciate the process itself—even the painful moments—without the weight of judgment.

Along with ethics, compassion is more important now than ever. And this starts with being compassionate toward ourselves. Composing can often bring up feelings of inadequacy: “I’m a fraud,” “I have no good ideas,” “I’m not talented enough.” In these moments, I try to practice self-compassion. Even if I believe some of these doubts, the most important thing is to just keep going, without judgment or self-criticism. This way, in the act of composing, we can create an environment where there’s little room for negativity. The more we practice without judgment, the stronger our ability to do so becomes.

If we practice composition in the most ethical and compassionate way possible, we are, in effect, practicing how to be better humans. This, I believe, can only help the world—especially now, when it feels like our global society is in crisis. While we may not be able to change the minds of others through words alone, perhaps our actions can be “viral” in a more positive way.

Why do I even bother with all of this? Because the world needs us to be better. I believe that if we make small, ethical decisions in our solitary practices, we create a ripple effect that can help change the world—one composition at a time.

— John Hollenbeck, November 17, 2024

John Hollenbeck’s latest album Colouring Hockets is out on all streaming platforms now.

About the Author:

John Hollenbeck is a genre-crossing composer and percussionist, renowned in both the jazz and contemporary music worlds. Widely recognized as the driving force behind the unclassifiable Claudia Quintet, GEORGE, and the ambitious John Hollenbeck Large Ensemble, his work blends influences from jazz, world music, and contemporary composition. Known for his ability to integrate his deep interest in contemporary composition and spiritual practice, Hollenbeck’s music is both expressive and advanced, accessible yet deeply nuanced.

A six-time GRAMMY nominee, Hollenbeck has earned accolades in multiple categories, including Best Jazz Large Ensemble Album for Songs You Like a Lot, All Can Work, A Blessing, and Eternal Interlude; Best Instrumental Composition for “Falling Men” from Shut Up and Dance; and Best Arrangement for his interpretation of Jimmy Webb’s “The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress” from Songs I Like a Lot.

Hollenbeck’s career spans collaborations with some of the most revered musicians in jazz, including Bob Brookmeyer, Fred Hersch, Tony Malaby, and Kenny Wheeler. He is also a leading figure in the new music community, particularly known for his long-standing partnership with Meredith Monk.

Among his many honors, Hollenbeck has received a 2007 Guggenheim Fellowship, the 2010 ASCAP Jazz Vanguard Award, and the prestigious 2012 Doris Duke Performing Artist Award. His extensive catalog of commissioned works includes projects for the Bang on a Can All-Stars, Ethos Percussion Group, University of Rochester, Melbourne Jazz Festival, Orchestre National de Jazz, and the Frankfurt Radio Big Band.

From 2005 to 2016, he served as Professor of Jazz Drums and Improvisation at the Jazz Institute Berlin and joined the faculty of McGill University Schulich School of Music in 2015. In 2024-2025, Hollenbeck is a Ken Pulling Visiting Scholar in Jazz Studies at the Berklee School of Music.

His most recent releases include Colouring Hockets with the NDR Bigband, featuring Matt Moran and Patricia Brennan, and The Gray Cottage String Quartets, part of the Ryan Truesdell project, Synthesis.

Cover photo by David Beckett