What is psychodrama and dramatherapy? It’s a hard question to answer and even after spending an hour at Combibos talking to Peter Haworth, president of the Oxford School of Psychodrama and Integrative Psyschotherapy, about the distinctions between these two fields, I still only can grasp that these things are some form of theatre that’s meant to help people. Is ‘normal’ theatre mean to help people? Maybe not so much. That would be a nice side-effect to any production, but most shows,  both in Oxford and in the professional theatre world, seem to strive to tell a story, show off some decent acting and top it off with eye-catching costumes and sets. Which is all well and good. But the idea of theatre that can actually make a difference in someone’s life (whatever that means) is intriguing to say the least.

On a basic level, psychodrama and dramatherapy are just what they sound like: the love-child of psychology and theatre. Its manifestations range from group therapy, where patients act out one another’s personal experiences, to full-on plays that stage a individual’s psychological issues for an audience. The governing idea behind it all is that theatre is good for a lot of things, but it especially has a knack for showing people something they hadn’t seen or realised before. In the context of therapy or psychology, this means theatre is an effective tool for personal growth, overcoming challenges, developing social skills and coping with trauma. 

Peter Haworth of OSPIP specialises in the last of these: psychodrama with people who have suffered from trauma. His work has taken him all over the world but currently he is doing work in Bosnia, which has a huge population that has suffered mass trauma as a result of a brutal war in the last two decades. Psychodrama, says Haworth, is especially adept at treating victims of trauma because it can go where verbal therapy cannot. 

For traumatized individuals, whether their trauma is the result of war crimes or personal history, are often unable to simply tell the story of what has happened to them. This is when, in the context of a group, the trauma victim can become a director, directing actors or other group members to act out a scene that comes close to representing their own experience. The effect of seeing one’s trauma acted out by a group can be pivotal in beginning the process of healing and moving forward from trauma.

Haworth recognises the challenges inherent in doing psychodrama in Great Britain. The cultural codes of conduct do not lend themselves to highly dramatic and expressive portrayals of personal and traumatic experiences. But in places like Bosnia, Brazil and Africa, psychodrama is proving to be a highly effective way to equip people with the tools to express themselves, share their stories, and communally cope with mass trauma and tragedy.

Does this mean that theatre can do more than warrant a round of applause at the end of a show? Most probably yes. The NHS is actively involved in supporting psychodrama and dramatherapy as a tool towards better mental and emotional health. Postgraduate programmes and qualifications in psychodrama and dramatherapy are cropping up throughout the UK. And given the amount of traumatic experiences that confront our world daily, it looks as though dramatherapy, psychodrama and theatre that makes a difference in the world, will have a growing place and relevance in the future.

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The conductor Paul Hillier’s latest recording with his vocal ensemble Theatre of Voices covers an eclectic programme of twentieth century composers, the coherence of which he justifies through the centrality of John Cage’s influence. The pieces demand that the performers are not only vocalists but actors too, and it is in this respect which the Theatre of Voices excel. All of the performers fully engage with the dramatic personas of the texts, the colloquial accent in Sheldon Frank’s ‘As I was saying’ particularly effective in its humour. The performance of ‘A-Ronne’ by the Italian composer Luciano Berio is a strong start to the album, with the atmosphere created through the hushed mutterings particularly effective. The intimate feel of Cage’s ‘Story’ makes it a particular highlight, with its rhythmic precision and colourful word-painting really bringing it to life. Unfortunately, the rest of the disc slipped just below this high standard. The meditatory feel was not captured in Jackson Mac Low’s ‘Young Turtle Asymmetries’, and the musicality sometimes came secondary to the elevation of the dramatic personas.

However, the recording itself is less than ideal. The balance of the voices sometimes needs adjustment and the degree of resonance sometimes exceeds the amount required in order to emphasise the theatrical nature of the pieces. Yet the interaction of the performers within the sonic space cannot be faulted. There is a real sense of dialogue, and each individual captures a sense of wonderment in the exploration of the percussive capacities of vowel sounds and how they combine to form words.

Although it is far from easy listening, Hillier and the Theatre of Voices attack the pieces with infectious energy. Their animated approach will appeal to many and will certainly lighten any day. 

Ask the average person in the street what they think of chamber music, and they’ll probably come back with the answer that it’s something that old (subtext: boring) people listen to. If you’d looked at the audience for the average chamber music concert ten years ago, you’d probably have been proved right. But times are changing, and it’s thanks in large part to the work of the Cavatina Chamber Music Trust. You might never have heard of it, or you might vaguely recall seeing its name or logo on concert posters or programmes scattered round Oxford, but it’s an organisation we should all know about.

Cavatina’s aim is simple: to bring chamber music to young people and young people to chamber music. Run by Pamela and Simon Majaro, who were both recently awarded MBEs for Services to Music, its activities range from organising music lessons and providing instruments to children from deprived areas, to supporting workshops run by world renowned ensembles or joint concerts between student and professional ensembles. Its ticket scheme, however, is what it is best known for – the trust allows concert venues all over the country, from the Holywell Music Rooms, or St Hilda’s Jacqueline du Pre to the Wigmore Hall in London, to offer free tickets at some of their concerts to concert goers aged between 8 and 26 years old. The scheme isn’t everywhere yet but we’re lucky at Oxford, as ever, to be at the forefront of the wave hitting the rest of the country – the Oxford Chamber Music Society and the Oxford Chamber Music Festival all offer free tickets to under 26s, and more recently the top student ensemble Oxford University Sinfonietta has also been supported by Cavatina.

You might go to chamber music concerts all the time – in which case, take advantage of hearing world-famous ensembles like the Wihan quartet for free. You might have been to one in the past and been put off by the outdated feel – in which case, try again and marvel at how things have changed. You might never have been to one – in which case, seize your opportunity. At the end of the day, these are free tickets to stunningly good concerts, and the start of something really special for performers and young audiences alike.

Friendly Fires’ self-titled debut album burst onto the indie scene in 2008 with a sound that combined the layered vocals of the Mystery Jets with the electronic dance-pop of Klaxons, but remained unique and distinctive. After the critical acclaim and Mercury and Brit nominations that followed, expectation has weighed heavy on the trio from St Albans for their second effort. Defying those who would dismiss the band as simply another short-lived offshoot of nu-rave, guitarist Edd Gibson recently claimed in an interview that their new album Pala is ‘a natural progression, not a deliberate departure’.

And, on first listen, Pala is an album that will not disappoint; it is drenched in summer sun, tropical birds – whose chirping introduces the atmospheric title track – and Aldous Huxley’s Utopian novel Island, to which the title alludes. The opening track and first single, ‘Live Those Days Tonight’, bristles with attitude and edge and promises to be an indie dancefloor favourite. Elsewhere, the infectiously danceable ‘Hurting’ incorporates an ambient electro breakdown and the glitzy ‘Show Me Lights’ continues the tropical flavour with a steel drum effect accompanying its joyful chorus.

Unfortunately, the second half of the album doesn’t maintain the pace or variety of the first, and the closing songs tend to blend into one another. Pala is still an impressive follow-up album and offers many gems on repeated listens; a particular highlight is ‘Blue Cassette’, a meditation on loss and memory with an anthemic chorus in which Ed Macfarlane’s voice soars, brimming with emotion, when he sings: ‘As I hear your voice, it sets my heart on fire’. The upcoming single ‘Hawaiian Air’ starts where the earlier escapist hit ‘Paris’ left off, and it is a holiday song perfectly suited for sing-along treatment on a glorious day at Glastonbury.

No one could accuse everyone’s favourite aunt Kate Bush of complacency. Whilst her latest album is ostensibly a reissue of eleven tracks taken from two previous albums (1989’s The Sensual World and 1993’s The Red Shoes), it amounts to a full on reimagining of songs that Kate (first name terms) has expressed some dissatisfaction with. Some tracks have been merely remastered, some have been completely rerecorded.

The problem with albums like this is that they often amount to no more than a vanity exercise; an excuse for an artist to revisit their glory days. The most they can generally hope to achieve would be reminding the listener of how good (or bad) the originals were. Director’s Cut mostly avoids this trap through the extensive reimagining the songs undergo. Those who know her best will know that Kate has learned a lot since 1993 – for one, she has discovered autotune, and mercilessly beats us over the head with it on ‘Deeper Understanding’.

But sometimes the polish Director’s Cut gives its source material feels unnecessary and in places uncomfortable. One of the reasons Kate is so great is because she’s kind of endearingly crap (watch the video for ‘Wuthering Heights’ and disagree with me – 4 minutes of karate-inspired mime in the middle of a field). For example, the warm sound of the electric piano on the new version of ‘This Woman’s Work’, whilst nice, pales in comparison to the much more raw and tender acoustic in the original recording. Ultimately, Director’s Cut is an interesting exercise in original artistic intentions, but personally I felt better served by the originals. Sorry Kate.

After a career spanning 47 years and an output of original studio albums nearing 50, you would think that Ladysmith Black Mambazo would be somewhat inured to the life of a touring group, to the point of going through the motions. Not quite. According to Albert Mazibuko, one of two surviving original members of the South African choral group, ‘life on the road is still wonderful, and we love it… it keeps you on your toes, it’s beautiful’. A relentlessly positive man, when asked about his future he says he envisages spending the rest of his life with the group: ‘you know, I still give myself another thirty years. I’m sixty three, so I’ll see when I’m ninety-something’. 

Mazibuko presents their new album, Songs from a Zulu Farm, as something of a change: ‘We thought about it and said, wow, man, we have been working so hard all these years – let’s go back to our childhood… when you’re children it’s so wonderful, connecting with nature’, perhaps an explanation for the profusion of songs named after animals. Upbeat as he is about recording, performing is the topic that truly gets Mazibuko passionate. The group’s UK tour began on the 19th May, and rarely is a man so excited to be headed to Ipswich. He says that ‘people… give us the happiness as we are sharing our music with them, so [performing] is very important’. This is what they are about. The founder described the group as on ‘a mission’ and this mission, to Mazibuko, is the spreading of happiness.  

Travelling with Nelson Mandela to the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony as well as performances at his inauguration and birthday the following year mean their music is to many tied up with memories of South Africa’s nineties rebirth. Mazibuko says that Mandela’s bestowal of the title of ambassadors for South African music on the group ‘made us want to do more, and try almost to be perfect… to not disappoint this guy and our country. It’s a great thing’. 

This encouragement may have been what spurred the group to the establishment in 1999 of the Ladysmith Black Mambazo Foundation. Mazibuko describes it as the starting point for an eventual goal ‘to form a school to help teach indigenous music to South Africans’. Protection of traditional culture is the aim, mainly from American music, but he is optimistic about the future, hoping ‘some group [will] come out and do as we have’.

Ladysmith are in the UK doubtless best known for their collaboration with Paul Simon on ‘Graceland’, and understandably so: it’s a corker. Beyond that people seem to at best be able to pin them down as belonging to that most elastic of genres, World Music. This is a pity. Their harmonies are sometimes staggeringly beautiful, and the sense of joy and wonder that Mazibuko talks about so passionately is palpable, despite the language barrier. Perhaps this is because of their attitude: when pressed on the fact that most of their music is written in Zulu, a language with which most of their international fans are not familiar, he was sanguine: ‘the words are not important – it’s the sound and the feeling and the energy behind it that’s important… it speaks to the blood because it’s from the blood’.

A cynic could attempt to cavil with Mazibuko’s positivity but it seems genuine. When he says ‘This tour is about happiness, about celebrating life’, you believe him.