Paul Mealor, composer

MUSIC saved my life. I grew up off the west coast of Wales surrounded by water - beautiful lakes, brooks, rivers. When I was 9, I fell into one of these brooks. I couldn’t swim – there was nobody around; I was in and out of consciousness. Then I had the most unbelievable experience of warmth, and that death wasn’t such a bad thing. It was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Luckily I was dragged out by a passerby, but what struck me was there seemed to be something in the world beyond what is physical. I wanted to find out what it was.

My parents thought the best thing would be to go to the cathedral close to where we lived. I went and the choir was rehearsing. I’d never heard anything like this. I auditioned and got into the cathedral choir, and that was how I got into music. That spiritual experience led me to seek out a way of describing it, and music was the best way.

Not long after I started writing music, my school and the cathedral realised I needed someone with knowledge of composition. They contacted Bangor University; the professor of music, William Mathias, was retiring and looking for a project. He took me on as a private student. As a guy from a working class area, there would have been no way of doing it if not for William.

I was contacted about the royal wedding and was honoured. It’s the stuff composers dream of. The moment it hit me was at the rehearsal in Westminster Abbey, when I heard the choir sing the piece. That was emotional because I never thought I’d hear any of my music at Westminster Abbey, let alone a service like this.

I bumped into Gareth Malone, who I knew as a friend. He was doing this programme about military wives. He wanted to give them a voice, but couldn’t find a song for them to sing, so asked if I would write a piece. He suggested they wrote the words, so they sent me letters they’d sent to their husbands and partners overseas. It was very emotional because they didn’t know if they would see them again.

Out of those letters I constructed a poem and wrote the song. The next minute, Gareth phones me and says "we’re performing it at the Royal Albert Hall on 11th November". I nearly died, I didn’t know it was going to be a big deal! The women did a marvellous job. They recorded it for charity and what do you know? No 1.

I have a number of things coming up: my first symphony premiered last November. I’ve finished a Mass commemorating the Battle of Somme, choral cycle of three poems by Christina Rossetti, need to finish the 2nd symphony and finished a piece for the National Youth Brass Band of Wales.

I’m inspired by my faith, but poetry is also important. One thing I’m fascinated with is wonder and magic, the beauty of things we don’t know. For me, composing is a sort of priesthood, because I think I would have either entered the church or composed. Living in Britain today, it’s not cool to be Christian, not cool to talk about faith. I’ve been struck living in Scotland – I teach at Aberdeen University – how times are changing, and people are allowed to say what they feel about religious issues. I think a composer’s job is to try remind people, should they choose to listen, of these issues if we can. The great thing about music is you can do it abstractly.

I think music is one of the most amazing things because you can communicate with people even when you don’t speak the language. I’ve never seen music drive people apart; only bring people together. It’s one of the greatest gifts we have.

Amanda Connelly