Malta Academy of Music's role

With reference to the letter by Rev. Prof. Peter Serracino Inglott (The Sunday Times, September 20), the main thrust of our correspondence has been the proposed Academy of Music. If I may rephrase my argument - now that, among other things, we have promoted (?) our orchestra to a philharmonic set-up, when it is so very evident that there are not enough local musicians with the necessary professional standard to keep it going, should we therefore be thinking about the ud rather than the violin?

When I wrote about "niche specialisations" I meant exactly that. I am of the opinion that unless one actually lives completely the culture of a particular region, then one can never really integrate (as opposed to appreciate) with its various artistic expressions or manifestations. For me, these can only blossom and flourish on 'home' ground. Uprooted from their indigenous environment, at best they can be appreciated as something exotic.

The intrinsic value of exoticism, under whatever garb presented, is exactly that of being foreign, different and non-belonging. In simple words, for example, the ideal way to learn French 'as she is spoke' is to go to France, not come to Malta.

My experience of Arabic musical institutions has afforded me some insight into the matter. I have given master classes in composition (European) on several occasions both in Amman and Damascus. These two conservatoires, like all major musical institutions along the Mediterranean littoral, offer a two-pronged programme - traditional music and 'Western' music.

This dualism is, however, taught in parallel and hardly ever converges. On the odd occasion that it does (in Damascus I have heard a concerto for kanun and orchestra) the result seems to be of dubious artistic validity and the interest it may generate seems to simply stem out of its exotic flavour.

Coming nearer home, the innovatory, experimental, cross-over concerts which were held in London during the early 1970s by Yehudi Menuhin (violin) and Ravi Shankar (sitar) proved to be quite popular at the time. But 30 years later, now that the 'exotic' glamour has long worn off, where has it all led to?

On a lighter note - the moment I get to know that Fr Peter is spending some of his mornings half-naked, legs crossed, hands tied, sitting motionless, fakir-like, for interminable stretches, meditating the finer points of Oriental philosophies, I promise that straightaway I will take up practising yoga, try my hand (feet?) walking barefoot across red-hot embers, and set myself the task of tackling the intricacies of sitar playing in order to work myself up to a fertile 'Indian' mindset wherein I can start working on ragas.

I thank Fr Peter for his compliments.