[Editorial]
The Personal is Professional: In Memory of Clive Robbins
By Brynjulf Stige
Think of music therapy in Australia, or in Germany, New Zealand, Japan, the UK, the US, or “wherever.” Clive Robbins has been there and marked the development of the discipline and profession of music therapy. When he passed away last December we lost one of our most significant pioneers. In a later issue of the journal, Voices will honor his contribution by presenting a special section edited by Ken Aigen and Simon Gilbertson. In the present editorial I will take a more personal perspective, yet under a heading indicating relationships between the personal and the professional.
Starting in the 1960s, Clive Robbins visited Norway several times. His last visit was in 2008. Back in the 1960s, Clive came with Paul Nordoff – on a boat from America the first time – and met the Norwegian music therapy pioneers. His warmth and sensitivity made a lasting impression on those who took on the responsibility to build the discipline and profession in this northern corner of the world. Some of the pioneering music therapists in my country – such as Unni Johns, Tom Næss, Even Ruud, Rita Strand Frisk, and Ida Margrethe Gjul – recently testified to this experience in a series of commemorative texts published in the Norwegian music therapy journal “Musikkterapi.”
I am not among those who knew Clive Robbins best or met him most often, but I do feel that I have “permission” to write about him, both because he was such a generous man and because I probably represent a large group of music therapists who met him a few times and had our lives changed. The first time I met him was in 1977. I was 19 years old and had just found out that there is a thing called music therapy. I joined the Norwegian Association for Music Therapy and by chance one of the very first events arranged after I became a member was a course with Carol and Clive Robbins. I do not remember too many of the eloquent words he used, but I do recall the rhythm and the radiance. There was a glow in his work that contributed to the choice I made that year to study music therapy.
I did not meet him again before the World Congress in Vittoria-Gasteiz in 1993. It was my first international conference ever. He certainly did not know me or my work at that time. We still had a warm conversation which made me feel like we were old friends. I remember expressing something about my appreciation of his unique involvement, especially in relation to improvisational music therapy. He cut me off and claimed that “It’s not so unique, it’s so universal.” It didn’t feel like he was being unreasonably modest. It felt like he was pointing towards something larger than himself. I later experienced that he often did that.
Over the years, I had the privilege to meet him a few times, in several different countries. He also continued to come to Norway. In 1997, for instance, he was one of the keynote speakers at the conference celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Norwegian Association for Music Therapy. I then interviewed him and was again struck by his warm enthusiasm. The interview was published in Nordic Journal of Music Therapy (Robbins & Stige, 1998), in the same issue as that journal started its series of articles discussing the famous case study of Edward (see Nordoff & Robbins, 1977/2007).
In the spring 1999 Clive came to the rural town Sandane in Western Norway, where the music therapy education that now is located in Bergen used to be located. Again, I do not remember too many of the eloquent words he used, but I do recall the rhythm and the radiance. There was a glow in his work that brought to mind why I chose to work with music therapy. After he had finished lecturing we decided to go on a little tour around Nordfjord (the “Northern Fjord”). I do not remember too many of the eloquent words he used in describing the nature that we encountered, but I recall how he made me see it as if for the first time. He made the glaciers glow.
Clive came back to Western Norway once more, in September 2008. At that time music therapy was new at the University of Bergen. As faculty members who had just moved to Bergen, we honestly did not know too much about the music therapy pioneers of that city. When Clive came, the distinguished ladies that had pioneered music therapy in Bergen since the 1950s and 60s popped up. Some of them had been doing the work long before they met Clive in the late 1960s but all of them had been deeply inspired and wanted to meet this man again. Out of this grew new contacts between the pioneers and the new faculty members of music therapy in Bergen. Clive facilitated relationships, as he almost always did.
I feel that this is linked to what we could learn from him as to how the personal is professional. There are of course times when we should keep our personal and professional lives separate, but Clive’s contribution taught us that there is something larger than that to explore and contemplate. Let me explain the point by making a brief detour to the feminists of the early 1960s, who suggested that the personal is political. The “Second-Wave feminists” of that time focused on issues which previously had been considered non-political, such as power relationships in the family, reproduction, language, and fashion. They were able to demonstrate that these issues were highly influential in shaping the lives we live. I will not speculate here about the relationships between feminism and the work of Clive Robbins and Paul Nordoff, but in my view their pioneering improvisational work in the early 1960s also had the flavor of focusing on issues which previously had not been considered. Especially in the American context, perhaps, the work of Nordoff and Robbins was at odds with the prevailing professional ethos of the time. While the (scarce) music therapy literature that existed often would describe systematic procedures informed by behavioral science, the work of Nordoff and Robbins focused on evolving personal relationships through musical improvisation. They were able to demonstrate how “sounding relationships” (to use a phrase coined by my Norwegian colleague Gro Trondalen) can be highly influential in music therapy.
Clive Robbins developed this work with Paul Nordoff and he readily acknowledged the value of his friend and colleague’s contribution (after Clive made the glaciers surrounding the Northern Fjord glow in 1999, I remember he smilingly suggested that the fjord should be renamed the Nordoff Fjord). Clive had the privilege to live for a long time after Paul’s death. He carried on the work and continuously developed it. We, who have the privilege to live after Clive’s death, for short or for long, must consider if and how we can carry on the work and develop it. The personal is professional.
References
Nordoff, Paul & Clive Robbins (1977/2007). Creative Music Therapy. Gilsum, NH: Barcelona Publishers.
Robbins, Clive & Brynjulf Stige (1998). - It’s so universal! Clive Robbins Interviewed by Brynjulf Stige. Nordic Journal of Music Therapy, 7(1), pp. 70-75. DOI:10.1080/08098139809477924
