The Transformative Power of Music by Dr. Rūta Vitkauskaitė

I often begin and end my conversations about music with grandiose claims. Why? And what if? This blog will be no exception.

A long time ago, as an early teenager, when I decided to become a composer, my main concern was whether I was a good enough person to master such a powerful tool—one that speaks directly to people’s subconscious and can transform their entire being without them even noticing. With such a great and potent skill, I wondered: would I use it for good?

Fast forward many years, having practiced composition for nearly three decades, shaped and reshaped not only by the music I compose but also by the environments and societies I have lived in, I still regularly reflect on the transformative power of music. And I still question my integrity as a composer.

I often seek answers in ancient folk music. Partly because this music was created long before capitalism shaped our minds and habits. Partly because, as I imagine, music in those times served a different purpose—it was not necessarily meant to elicit joy or melancholy but to induce specific states of mind. It could transform a person into a warrior, a self-healer, or a silent observer of the world and universe. The power of music to bind communities together, attuning them with nature and their surroundings, and still regarded as a scientific tool some centuries back, I find, to be largely underestimated nowadays.

Through my interest in ancient folk traditions, I became increasingly fascinated by the onomatopoeic words found in folk songs—words that do not serve a conceptual meaning but rather ‘mean’ the sound they create. These fragments function like mantras, used purely for musical purposes. Scientific literature refers to onomatopoeic words as ‘fossils,’ remnants of a prehistoric time when music and language were one in our brains—before language migrated to its own center in the brain, while music, it seems, continues to activate the entire brain to this day.

I have discovered traces of this cross-over between word and music in Lithuanian sutartinės, Inuit kattajaq, Sami yoiks, Indian konnakol, Scottish puirt à beul and canntaireachd, and many other cultures.
​
My research on this subject is deeply experiential—I practice music, read, and speak with people in remote communities about their musical experiences. Through this, I build an intuitive understanding of what different musical gestures mean and convey. These insights sink into my music practice, and today, almost every piece I write is influenced by this journey.

​[The Lithuanian Culture Institute and Music Information Centre invite you to the Lithuanian Art Music showcase, which features some of the most outstanding Lithuanian composers of art music today. This episode introduces composer Rūta Vitkauskaitė and her musical inspirations]

​I recently completed my Violin Concerto, my most ambitious concert work to date, with a singular goal: to encapsulate my compositional skillset and philosophy in a way that transforms the audience toward a deeper, more authentic way of being. The journey of music, shared between the audience, the soloist (Dalia Kuznecovaitė), and the orchestra (Lithuanian National Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Modestas Pitrėnas), is intended to expand our perception of the world. It offers the kind of lived experience that shifts our perspective on life and values—creating space for wiser, more conscious, and more generous actions in our daily lives.

​[A short film created by videographer Ilmė Vyšniauskaitė depicts composer Rūta Vitkauskaitė's journey in creating her large scale and most personal symphonic work, Violin Concerto.]

Immediately after completing my Violin Concerto, I began working on my Illuminate Women’s Music Commission. A much smaller piece for a chamber setup (soprano and cello), this project, with its highly collaborative timeline and interaction with performers and composers, gave me the opportunity to explore elements I might not have otherwise.
​
For some time, I had wished to incorporate texts from Gaelic hymns and incantations, inspired by Alexander Carmichael’s Carmina Gadelica, a book recommended to me while staying in the remote village of Bragar in the Outer Hebrides. Earlier in my compositional journey, I had written a vocal work using Lithuanian healing spells (Rūta Čiūta—and yes, my name, Rūta, appears as an onomatopoeic word in ancient Lithuanian songs, possibly used for healing). That piece was dedicated to the well-being of people during the COVID-19 pandemic. When I later encountered the Gaelic collection of hymns and incantations, they resonated deeply with my already established interest in such chants.

During my stay in wonderful village of Bragar, I also saw, for the first time, a traditional Black House still standing. Conversations with the locals helped me understand the profound meaning of the fireplace—traditionally at the center of the home, the most sacred and essential place. Peat, kindling, the blessing of fire, and the mystical aura surrounding it all, so I've been told, gave birth to the ancient Gaelic tales and songs.

Thus, my Illuminate piece, Song of the Shadows, seeks to summon that spirit—so fragile and rarely encountered in today’s modern world. I incorporate authentic Gaelic incantations for the blessing of the fire, as well as an authentic Lithuanian spell used to protect homes from burning (a short palindrome of words). The piece also invites audience participation at both the beginning and the end, creating an environment of semi-present spirits in the house. The singer (Stephanie Lamprea) moves in a triangular path, bowing to an imaginary kindling, imitating the original ritual of laying peat in the fireplace. Meanwhile, the cello (Jessica Kerr) joins the audience in imitating fire sounds, eventually bursting into ‘full flame’ through music.

This audience participation and reenactment of the ritual serve to transport listeners into the deep Gaelic night of a pre-modern era, where visions were as real as the physical world. A stark contrast to today’s noisy, visually overstimulated city life. Through a musical narrative that evolves from whispers and noise into ‘heavenly’ singing before returning to whispery fire sounds, I invite listeners to experience the state of mind one might have had when blessing the fireplace—the most sacred space, upon which life and well-being depended.
​
The original Gaelic lyrics embody the transformative power of word and music, once deeply interwoven into every aspect of life. Through this piece, I have sought to bring them back to life through my own sound.

​[Song of the Shadows, composed by Rūta Vitkauskaitė for Illuminate Women's Music Scotland tour].