In Memoriam José-Luis Maúrtua
I had originally written this just for myself, but I am deciding to share it in case it helps anyone get to know what a brilliant man we lost this weekend.
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Finally starting to get a few words about Dr. José-Luis Maúrtua’s passing beyond the initial shock.
The first thing that strikes me is that when he passed yesterday, he was 57, which, in my mind, is just far too young. Though I am certain that I am projecting my earthly thoughts onto him, I immediately thought that he had so much more music to write—to play, to conduct. More life to live. More wry smiles to give.
For those who did not know him, Dr. Maúrtua was my theory professor. By all accounts, this could be written off as a relatively unremarkable interaction—after all, I was just one person in a class of 20 or so music majors. However, when I met Dr. M., I was a kid from a small town who didn’t really have many opportunities to study music theory on this level. While many of my peers took the equivalent of our first year theory classes or had advanced knowledge in this area, every bit of it was new to me, and I found it enthralling.
Many people had told me up to that point that understanding music that deeply is a curse…that one can never really “un-hear” or turn their analytical brain off to enjoy the music—on the contrary, I think it adds to the magic. My theory teachers (Drs. Jennifer Campbell and José-Luis Maúrtua) were proof of this–about how understanding something like music so deeply and intimately knowing score upon score could make the magic that much more real.
And that’s where Dr. Maúrtua came in. I so deeply admired the musician he was—a composer, a theorist, a formidable pianist, a great teacher. Partway through my time at Central Michigan University, Dr. Maúrtua began directing the orchestra. While I did not play with this group, I admired his work because it was clear to me that he was passionate about it and I had noticed a change in my peers who were playing in the orchestra. I had thought it was a little strange at first but when I saw the first concert he conducted, it felt like exactly where he was meant to be.
José’s inner ear was an immense gift that he shared with those in his classes—from continuing beyond the written page of an example to rendering orchestral reductions and other pieces to demonstrate theoretical concepts at the drop of a hat—it was easy to be blown away by so much of his brilliance. I have so many fond and detailed memories of Dr. Maúrtua talking about a theoretical concept and then spinning off four or five different examples of where we could find it, slowing down ever so slightly when he reached the chord in question. Sometimes that kind of brilliance can lead a person to be off-putting or selectively distant…or above you—with José, this brilliance was accompanied by a trademark kindness that drew people to him. He never shrugged off a question from a student, no matter how small.
When I think about Dr. Maúrtua, I remember his joy the most. It was infectious. Even in early-morning theory classes, there was so much love in everything he did. So much life. Such passion. With every day that he sat at the piano to teach us the building blocks of harmony, it was clear to me that so much love in every aspect of his life, even if it was difficult at times.
Bringing it back to that kid sitting in Dr. Maúrtua’s theory class who was just excited to be learning about something he loved. People say to do what you love and you will never work a day in your life. What they don’t tell you is that by making your passion your work, there is a brilliance that fades. The grind of daily life and especially thehustle of academia can really bear the joy and creativity out of music. The magic starts to fade and all of the sudden what was once a career that promised you the magical and joyful days of your life becomes just another grind.
If there’s one thing that Dr. José-Luis Maúrtua has taught me by just being himself—that he perhaps never even knew—it’s the joy and love and gratitude in getting to live this life of a musician. It isn’t always easy, but I am grateful for it, and I am most grateful for the kindness of mentors like Dr. M., who, despite all of the mire of academia, still managed to show this small town kid what it meant to be a consummate musician, a joyful composer and theorist, and a kind human being. He was not overly effusive–but in his classroom, you knew he cared. I remember this so deeply even years after my last class with him.
And you see, that’s what made Dr. Maúrtua such a special person–It was the ordinary interactions that were graced by the presence of an extraordinary person. Extraordinary talent. Extraordinary passion and care for his students. Extraordinary love.
To his many students, colleagues, and his family, I am sending positive thoughts. RIP Dr. José-Luis Maúrtua. Thank you for the music and all of the lessons. No te olvidaré.
