Well..... here it goes. As a trumpet player, the first piece I would have to have on my Ipod is Mahler's 5th symphony. This is the staple of the trumpet world, one which is requested on most auditions, and one which I requested our visiting guest artist in trumpet master class today (Tom Hooten, principal trumpet of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra) to play for us. In addition to its importance to the trumpet world, it is music of great emotional depth and breadth. Beginning with a funeral march, it rises from the depths of despair, through a turbulent sonata-allegro movement, to a joyful, energetic scherzo. Also along the way there is a delightful moment of call in a beautiful Adagietto for strings. Mahler concludes this journey from tragedy with a moment of grandeur and triumph with a rondo-finale displaying great contrapuntal mastery.
The second piece on my Ipod would be Dance Movements by Philip Sparke. Sparke is a contemporary British composer, and this music is quite difficult to perform. It is energetic, and has been dubbed the British response to Bernstein's West Side Story. In the first movement, Sparke takes the band through numerous metrical changes, culminating in a quick transition to the second movement. This movement is for the woodwinds, and is sort of like a scherzo movement. It is a ternary structure, with two outer rhythmically charged sections framing a lyrical, more nostalgic middle. This movement segues into the third movement. This is the slow movement of the work, and it is just for the brass. Sparke writes music of grandeur and great expansiveness. It rises to a climax, before fading away to nothing. Then, out of nowhere, the finale charges in. This is also a ternary and is also the longest movement of the work. It is more unsettled that the previous movements, and it is not until the coda that the music final is able to receive resolution and to conclude in a highly triumphant manner.
The third piece on my Ipod would have to be Bernstein's Symphonic Dances from West side story. The Wind Ensemble is actually playing a new arrangement of it at the end of April, which I am looking forward to. This work is full of energy, but one can feel the pent up tension in the music which is representative of the tense atmosphere between the rival gangs in the musical version. At the end, the work concludes quietly, ponderous of the fate that has befallen several of the main characters during the bloody feud between the two gangs.
The fourth piece on my Ipod would definitely have to be Mahler's 6th symphony. I know I have put two compositions by the same composer, but Mahler's works are so distinct from one another, that the only resemblances they bear with one another typical is that they were written by the same composer. In this work, Mahler uses a traditional four movement format. Subtitled "tragic" by the composer, it is music that he wrote to depict his trials throughout life. The first movement is a vigorous march like movement with a bombastic conclusion. The scherzo is almost sarcastic, with the shrill sonorities of the instruments exploited. Only in the third movement is there a repose from the atmosphere generated by the symphony. Here, the music has a pastoral feeling, enhanced with Mahler's use of Cowbells (Incidentally, Mahler used cowbells in the first movement of this symphony in a passage of relative calm). The finale returns to the mood established in the first two movements: one featuring despair and sarcasm. Originally, in this movement, Mahler had three hammer blows of fate written in, but in the revision he made to the symphony he omitted the final one. The movement concludes in utter despair, a stark contrast with his fifth symphony.
The final piece that I want on my Ipod is by a Russian-French-American composer: Igor Stravinsky. His Firebird suite is a staple among the symphonic repertoire. The ballet from which the suite is drawn from focuses on the adventures of Prince Ivan while in the forest. He comes across the Firebird and captures him. The Firebird begs for freedom, and Ivan grants it, a move he would later be thankful for. Later in Ivan's sojourn in the forest, he comes across 13 princesses held under a spell by King Kaschei. Ivan decides to free the princesses but is overpowered by Kaschei. At that moment, the Firebird returns and they defeat Kaschei. Stravinsky concludes the work by quoting in the orchestra an old Russian Folk tune. It is sounded first in the horn (much to Cheryl's approval) and is passed around the orchestra, growing louder until the music ends in triumph.
That, in a nutshell, would be the five pieces I would want on my Ipod.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The curmudgeon is back, and the readership is pins-on-needles in eager anticipation of what I shall attack next.
Welllll...I do not care to be the author who is expected to go around slamming everything and everybody that I read, though I must admit that the wind sculpture constituting so much musicological prose merits criticism on stylistic grounds. I, for one, continue to not subscribe to the "why use one word when five will do" thesis of scholarly prose, and my unwillingness to scour the thesaurus for the most obscure Latinate derivations applicable will not serve me in good stead as I attempt to communicate to my fellow musicologists. I just know that my next submission to JAMS will be rejected due to the absence of sentences that cannot be understood without multiple readings.
And so how can I account for Kyle Gann? His writing is direct and comprehensible. He makes a statement and then his very next sentence contains new information, as opposed to writing sentence after sentence saying the same thing in increasingly confusing Latinate. Can a musicological author be both appealing to fellow scholars and the larger, general readership. Decades writing for the Village Voice have taught him how to communicate to the rest of us, but how does he rank in the eyes of his colleagues? After all, to them, being read by hundreds of thousands of interested readers cannot possibly compare to being read by a couple dozen of his musicological colleagues, who will all read with the assumption that they already know far more about the topic than Gann does.
So allow me a moment to praise Kyle Gann for his useful and interesting essay "Subversive Prophet" in the Henry Cowell symposium. Since he gives us such a clear and helpful view of Cowell's theories and practices, I shall only quibble with Cowell, based upon the presumption that Gann has reported Cowell with accuracy. Happily, Gann gives a healthy portion of quotes from his New Musical Resources, and armed with these, one can discern a good deal of Cowell's theses.
So what's my beef? Well, in the first quote, Cowell, according to Gann, implies that use of a technique does not justify it. To which I would respond, "Well, what else would justify a technique other than its usage?" Gann includes the quote "...that a certain chord is built up in fourths is not a sufficient explanation. A reason for the suitability of fourths as building-material must be shown..." Henry Cowell, meet Paul Hindemith. Since the ancients recognized the fourth as one of the most stable, consonant intervals, triads being a latter-day innovation, chords in fourths sound to modern ears as perfectly acceptable. McCoy Tyner named one of his early albums Reaching Fourth just to pun upon his preferred chord structures.
Gann does wonder about Cowell's attempts to discuss overtones, essentially doing so in order to absolve his tone clusters, while failing to break out of the trap of equal-temperament. Given Cowell's far more innovative theories concerning rhythm, one might forgive him his relative simplicity concerning intonation. Cowell reached for the overtones in order to justify, as mentioned, the clusters. It seems interesting that Cowell again worries about justifications for any harmonic innovation, be it clusters or chords in fourths. Had he never heard of Tinctoris, who, in the fifteenth century, declared the third to be an estimable interval to base music upon, not out of any theory of that theorist's devising, but for the simple reason that he felt they sounded good.
One might be amused to read Cowell complaining about the tyranny of note values being halved or doubled, without a notational aid any better than writing a "3" beneath a triplet, by stating that "Were the use of such notes of rare occurrence, this method might be justifiable". Musical notation history is that of advances being made upon recognition of a need for that advance. Once Cowell comes along and wants to write disparate odd meters against each other, we may need to sophisticate our rhythmic notation, but until he did, little "3"s did the trick. Anything more elaborate was not done.
In a way, Cowell sounds not a little unlike Milton Babbitt, the latter understanding that he writes for a listenership of the distant future who nay be able to comprehend his music by ear alone. Cowell insists that, with adequate practice, his polyrhythms can be mastered by the performer. This only leaves the question of whether the listener has a prayer of comprehension upon exposure. And also the question of whether it is any more important for the listener to spot the six-against-nine rhythm than it is for him to be able to puzzle out a serialist's tone row.
Welllll...I do not care to be the author who is expected to go around slamming everything and everybody that I read, though I must admit that the wind sculpture constituting so much musicological prose merits criticism on stylistic grounds. I, for one, continue to not subscribe to the "why use one word when five will do" thesis of scholarly prose, and my unwillingness to scour the thesaurus for the most obscure Latinate derivations applicable will not serve me in good stead as I attempt to communicate to my fellow musicologists. I just know that my next submission to JAMS will be rejected due to the absence of sentences that cannot be understood without multiple readings.
And so how can I account for Kyle Gann? His writing is direct and comprehensible. He makes a statement and then his very next sentence contains new information, as opposed to writing sentence after sentence saying the same thing in increasingly confusing Latinate. Can a musicological author be both appealing to fellow scholars and the larger, general readership. Decades writing for the Village Voice have taught him how to communicate to the rest of us, but how does he rank in the eyes of his colleagues? After all, to them, being read by hundreds of thousands of interested readers cannot possibly compare to being read by a couple dozen of his musicological colleagues, who will all read with the assumption that they already know far more about the topic than Gann does.
So allow me a moment to praise Kyle Gann for his useful and interesting essay "Subversive Prophet" in the Henry Cowell symposium. Since he gives us such a clear and helpful view of Cowell's theories and practices, I shall only quibble with Cowell, based upon the presumption that Gann has reported Cowell with accuracy. Happily, Gann gives a healthy portion of quotes from his New Musical Resources, and armed with these, one can discern a good deal of Cowell's theses.
So what's my beef? Well, in the first quote, Cowell, according to Gann, implies that use of a technique does not justify it. To which I would respond, "Well, what else would justify a technique other than its usage?" Gann includes the quote "...that a certain chord is built up in fourths is not a sufficient explanation. A reason for the suitability of fourths as building-material must be shown..." Henry Cowell, meet Paul Hindemith. Since the ancients recognized the fourth as one of the most stable, consonant intervals, triads being a latter-day innovation, chords in fourths sound to modern ears as perfectly acceptable. McCoy Tyner named one of his early albums Reaching Fourth just to pun upon his preferred chord structures.
Gann does wonder about Cowell's attempts to discuss overtones, essentially doing so in order to absolve his tone clusters, while failing to break out of the trap of equal-temperament. Given Cowell's far more innovative theories concerning rhythm, one might forgive him his relative simplicity concerning intonation. Cowell reached for the overtones in order to justify, as mentioned, the clusters. It seems interesting that Cowell again worries about justifications for any harmonic innovation, be it clusters or chords in fourths. Had he never heard of Tinctoris, who, in the fifteenth century, declared the third to be an estimable interval to base music upon, not out of any theory of that theorist's devising, but for the simple reason that he felt they sounded good.
One might be amused to read Cowell complaining about the tyranny of note values being halved or doubled, without a notational aid any better than writing a "3" beneath a triplet, by stating that "Were the use of such notes of rare occurrence, this method might be justifiable". Musical notation history is that of advances being made upon recognition of a need for that advance. Once Cowell comes along and wants to write disparate odd meters against each other, we may need to sophisticate our rhythmic notation, but until he did, little "3"s did the trick. Anything more elaborate was not done.
In a way, Cowell sounds not a little unlike Milton Babbitt, the latter understanding that he writes for a listenership of the distant future who nay be able to comprehend his music by ear alone. Cowell insists that, with adequate practice, his polyrhythms can be mastered by the performer. This only leaves the question of whether the listener has a prayer of comprehension upon exposure. And also the question of whether it is any more important for the listener to spot the six-against-nine rhythm than it is for him to be able to puzzle out a serialist's tone row.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Notes to the Listener: to Tell or not to Tell
Today's class discussion really got the gears turning for me, and I hope we have the opportunity to further it this week. Should program notes be given to an audience (or even a single listener) to direct their listening? While the question came in specific reference to what might be termed less-accessible music, I think there are broad applications to this question.
For my own benefit, and perhaps yours as well, Gentle Reader, I will briefly recapitulate (no pun intended) some of the points various persons made in class. As far as I can tell, the discussion boils down the criteria. The answer to the above question depends on:
1. The number of hearings available to the listener(s). (Do people become comfortable with something as they become accustomed it, or does familiarity breed contempt?)
2. The demographic of the listener(s), id est their musical education, exposure to and interest in new music, et cetera.
3. The purpose of the venue. (Is the audience there to be active listeners or passive listener?)
If there are others I've missed, please comment below. I think, however, that of the number of perspectives expressed, I have distilled the parameters fairly accurately.
There are some additional ones I wish to raise. Some of these were briefly alluded to during our discourse, but I think they deserve some more attention. The answer to the above question may also depend upon:
4. Whether or not the music is programmatic (and in this I include music with text, and music with titles that refer to something beyond themselves).
5. The degree of accessibility. (This would naturally depend upon point 2 above, but one can firstly run it through the roughest of sieves: is it tonal* or not, and to what degree?)
Under point 4, music with a text already has more for the listener to grasp than absolute music. The same is true of a piece called Kilimanjaro versus a piece called Symphony No. 4 or Sonata, Op. 36 No. 1. In tandem with point 5 one could create a continuum, in which an atonal work with an abstract title merits explanation much more than a tonal work with a programatic title.
Under point 5, we understand that common practice music (roughly 1600-1900) is going to need less structural explanation for the listener to appreciate than something written before or after that era. Brahms's Intermezzo in A major Op. 118 No. 2 has a title that has very little meaning (in the artistic sense), but the music makes sense on a first hearing. This cannot be said of a large body of music written in the last 100 years or so. Some explanation may be necessary to give the audience something to take hold of and carry them through the piece.
I am dwelling on the issue of structural understanding because, as a theorist, I firmly believe (as I hope we all do) that understanding musical structure facilitates the communication/reception of musical meaning. If a listener does not understand how to listen for pitch cells, then atonal works will tend to be meaningless. One derives meaning from language via comprehension of syntax and grammar; likewise one derives meaning from music via comprehension of formal, rhythmic, and pitch organization. By no means does this mandate that all concert-going audiences be thoroughly steeped in music theory (oh, what a dream that would be). But generally, people can intuitively discern the logic of tonal music, whereas that is not always (perhaps even often) the case with non-tonal organization.
Of course, this discussion leads inevitably to the question of meaning, and by extension, the purpose art in general, and music in particular. That is another intensely interesting topic, but one I will lay to rest at present.
*Nota bene. The word tonal is a loaded word. Here I do not mean the word to indicate music that involves "tones," which would be pointless, since the very nature of music is to involve tones of some sort. No, here I mean, music that is organized by the major/minor key system and functional harmony.
The Death Of Klinghoffer Part 2
In the first act of the Death of Klinghoffer, both the Palestinian and Jewish sides of the story were laid down right at the beginning of the opera. As the act progressed, the different nationalities of the world represented on board the Achille Lauro were dragged into the conflict between the two sides.
For much of the second half of the opera, the drama focuses on Klinghoffer and his terrorist captors. Klinghoffer is not about to be terrorized, and instead flings insults back as his captors. The climax comes when the Palestinians finally decide the most expedient move would be to kill Klinghoffer. After shooting him and throwing his body overboard, they announce that every fifteen minutes, another person would suffer the same fate.
One of the most surreal arias ever written follows next. This is the Aria of the Falling Body, sung by Klinghoffer himself. It depicts the body as it slowly sinks to the bottom of the Mediterranean sea as its finally watery grave. On stage illusions are done to depict an object that symbolizes Klinghoffer's body as it slowly descends towards the bottom.
At the end, the captain is confronted with the difficult task of informing Klinghoffer's wife of the end that has befallen her husband. As he tells her, Mrs. Klinghoffer reacts with an attitude of disdain towards the captain. She is not convinced that the captain had done all that he could have for the situation. The opera then concludes at that point, with no real resolution to the tragedy that has just occurred, or even an explanation of what becomes of the terrorists, the crew, and the passengers aboard the Achille Lauro.
This opera is controversial, yet it raises a lot of pertinent and highly relevant questions for us in the modern day world, especially in America. This entire hemisphere has been settled by people who immigrated from other parts of the world, and settled alongside natives, as well as immigrants from other countries who also came to call these shores home.
The main problem that befalls us, is that all of the characters in this opera could very well be our neighbors. There are Palestinian Americans as well as Jewish Americans. The Swiss and Austrian passengers as well as the Italian sailors could have relatives who reside in our hemisphere. In addition, this conflict has been going on for generations. Adams possibly was correct in having decided to end the opera where he did. It is a stark story which tells us of the harsh reality which faces us. Two different nationalities, claiming the same piece of land. One was given it as a means of protection against potential future genocides. In the other, there are extremists who wish to eliminate the former.
Yet another reason that makes Adams such an example of an American composer is that in his compositions, he is not afraid to state the facts as they are. While he does give a voice to the ethnicities of this hemisphere, he does so by telling them what needs to be said.
For much of the second half of the opera, the drama focuses on Klinghoffer and his terrorist captors. Klinghoffer is not about to be terrorized, and instead flings insults back as his captors. The climax comes when the Palestinians finally decide the most expedient move would be to kill Klinghoffer. After shooting him and throwing his body overboard, they announce that every fifteen minutes, another person would suffer the same fate.
One of the most surreal arias ever written follows next. This is the Aria of the Falling Body, sung by Klinghoffer himself. It depicts the body as it slowly sinks to the bottom of the Mediterranean sea as its finally watery grave. On stage illusions are done to depict an object that symbolizes Klinghoffer's body as it slowly descends towards the bottom.
At the end, the captain is confronted with the difficult task of informing Klinghoffer's wife of the end that has befallen her husband. As he tells her, Mrs. Klinghoffer reacts with an attitude of disdain towards the captain. She is not convinced that the captain had done all that he could have for the situation. The opera then concludes at that point, with no real resolution to the tragedy that has just occurred, or even an explanation of what becomes of the terrorists, the crew, and the passengers aboard the Achille Lauro.
This opera is controversial, yet it raises a lot of pertinent and highly relevant questions for us in the modern day world, especially in America. This entire hemisphere has been settled by people who immigrated from other parts of the world, and settled alongside natives, as well as immigrants from other countries who also came to call these shores home.
The main problem that befalls us, is that all of the characters in this opera could very well be our neighbors. There are Palestinian Americans as well as Jewish Americans. The Swiss and Austrian passengers as well as the Italian sailors could have relatives who reside in our hemisphere. In addition, this conflict has been going on for generations. Adams possibly was correct in having decided to end the opera where he did. It is a stark story which tells us of the harsh reality which faces us. Two different nationalities, claiming the same piece of land. One was given it as a means of protection against potential future genocides. In the other, there are extremists who wish to eliminate the former.
Yet another reason that makes Adams such an example of an American composer is that in his compositions, he is not afraid to state the facts as they are. While he does give a voice to the ethnicities of this hemisphere, he does so by telling them what needs to be said.
Chavez: The Conclusion
I apologize for my illness today which did not permit me to cover as much of the material that I had discovered about Chavez as I wanted. I believe then a brief post to hit the remaining highlights of Chavez and his Indian Symphony should be sufficient.
My initial experience with Chavez and the Indian Symphony dates back to my middle school days. I remember at that impressionable age of having the opportunity to watch the different VHS tapes of Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts series. One of the concerts focused on Latin American Music, and the closing number on that program happened to be Chavez's Indian Symphony.
I must admit that my personal tastes in music concentrate around the symphonic tradition of the German and Russian composers of the late Romantic and Post-Romantic eras. Very slowly I have grown to appreciate more and really want to listen to music of other eras, but only slowly. I do listen greatly to lots of music from different eras, but personally I always gravitate towards that specific era in music history.
However, my initial experience with the Indian Symphony was one of fascination. The rhythmic vitality and the color of the orchestration employed by Chavez in this masterpiece had ne enthralled. Unfortunately, I never did take the time to explore about Chavez, actually forgetting about him for close to a decade.
When I was in Germany this past summer, I happened to go into a CD store and come across the box set from which I played the excerpts we listened to today. At that point, I was again captivated by Chavez's music again. I'll confess that sometimes I would listen to the Indian Symphony four or five times in a row before switching to something else.
Then, the first day of American Innovators occurred. I, like most people mistakenly would assume, expected this to be a class solely about composers who reside within the borders of the USA. Then, when Dr. Brunner gave us the option of exploring the music of American composers who reside in countries other than this one, I immediately got the idea to explore Chavez. The piece which I would want to highlight in my presentation would, of course, be the Indian Symphony.
Chavez's Indian Symphony is a rhythmic and orchestrational masterpiece. The rhythms Chavez incorporates indicate that this music is very much folk inflected. The plaintive melodic lines that Chavez writes for in the middle section of the symphony, and then get restated near the conclusion are very much native American in character. Chavez's choice of the Clarinet as the means of Orchestration further brings out this folk element.
This symphony differs from much orchestral work in the sheer variety of the melodic material that is used. In the short 3:30 minute excerpt that we were able to hear in class, a representative example of all the different styles and moods that Chavez writes for were included.
What was brought up in class, and must be reiterated, is that even though Chavez did write in a Populist style like Copland did, he like Copland also wrote in styles that were much more austere and difficult to grapple with. And also in the manner of Copland, his music that does remain popular is music like the Indian Symphony, which draws upon the rich folk traditions of Mexico.
Also touched upon in the lecture was Chavez's career as a conductor. This was one which he pursued over the last fifty years of his life and to great acclaim. He conducted many premieres of his works, including the Indian Symphony (premiered in New York by the New York Philharmonic in 1936.)
In summary, the career of Chavez must be viewed not as a career that specialized in one facet of music. Instead, he was a consummate musician who was able to establish himself as an educator, composer, and conductor. To quote Dr. Brunner: "He put Mexico on the map."
My initial experience with Chavez and the Indian Symphony dates back to my middle school days. I remember at that impressionable age of having the opportunity to watch the different VHS tapes of Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts series. One of the concerts focused on Latin American Music, and the closing number on that program happened to be Chavez's Indian Symphony.
I must admit that my personal tastes in music concentrate around the symphonic tradition of the German and Russian composers of the late Romantic and Post-Romantic eras. Very slowly I have grown to appreciate more and really want to listen to music of other eras, but only slowly. I do listen greatly to lots of music from different eras, but personally I always gravitate towards that specific era in music history.
However, my initial experience with the Indian Symphony was one of fascination. The rhythmic vitality and the color of the orchestration employed by Chavez in this masterpiece had ne enthralled. Unfortunately, I never did take the time to explore about Chavez, actually forgetting about him for close to a decade.
When I was in Germany this past summer, I happened to go into a CD store and come across the box set from which I played the excerpts we listened to today. At that point, I was again captivated by Chavez's music again. I'll confess that sometimes I would listen to the Indian Symphony four or five times in a row before switching to something else.
Then, the first day of American Innovators occurred. I, like most people mistakenly would assume, expected this to be a class solely about composers who reside within the borders of the USA. Then, when Dr. Brunner gave us the option of exploring the music of American composers who reside in countries other than this one, I immediately got the idea to explore Chavez. The piece which I would want to highlight in my presentation would, of course, be the Indian Symphony.
Chavez's Indian Symphony is a rhythmic and orchestrational masterpiece. The rhythms Chavez incorporates indicate that this music is very much folk inflected. The plaintive melodic lines that Chavez writes for in the middle section of the symphony, and then get restated near the conclusion are very much native American in character. Chavez's choice of the Clarinet as the means of Orchestration further brings out this folk element.
This symphony differs from much orchestral work in the sheer variety of the melodic material that is used. In the short 3:30 minute excerpt that we were able to hear in class, a representative example of all the different styles and moods that Chavez writes for were included.
What was brought up in class, and must be reiterated, is that even though Chavez did write in a Populist style like Copland did, he like Copland also wrote in styles that were much more austere and difficult to grapple with. And also in the manner of Copland, his music that does remain popular is music like the Indian Symphony, which draws upon the rich folk traditions of Mexico.
Also touched upon in the lecture was Chavez's career as a conductor. This was one which he pursued over the last fifty years of his life and to great acclaim. He conducted many premieres of his works, including the Indian Symphony (premiered in New York by the New York Philharmonic in 1936.)
In summary, the career of Chavez must be viewed not as a career that specialized in one facet of music. Instead, he was a consummate musician who was able to establish himself as an educator, composer, and conductor. To quote Dr. Brunner: "He put Mexico on the map."
Something OLD, Something NEW!!!!
I totally agree with Brad Meyer's blog post and am inspired. Some music I have found not to my liking, and I ask myself why? I have started to re-listen to Miles Davis's "Bitches Brew" it is highly experimental with electronic music. During my undergraduate degree I hated this album and have not listened to it since, until now. I am re-listening trying to keep an open mind about the album. Before this album Miles had begun two jazz movements (cool and model jazz). Some critics at the time characterized this new electronic music as simply obscure and "outside", which elevates Duke Ellington to say that Miles Davis is "the Picasso of jazz." I myself used to think of this music as "outside" the box. After having our discussions in class I found myself needing and wanting to hear things that are outside the box. Bitches Brew is definitely "outside" the box. For this album to come out in 1970 was amazing. After cool and modal jazz to go directly to experimental electronic music was large jump.
"the harmonies used in this recording move very slowly and function modally rather than in a more tonal fashion typical of mainstream jazz.... The static harmonies and rhythm section's collective embellishment create a very open arena for improvisation. The musical result flows from basic rock patterns to hard bop textures, and at times, even passages that are more characteristic of free jazz." –Paul Tanner. I love this quote from Paul Tanner, in this album Miles uses all his tricks in his shoe box. Many critics were not ready for all his tricks on one album, (myself included).
Now after listening and enjoying the different works were discussing in class I catch myself finally understanding and appreciating Miles Davis’s experimental electronic innovation. I am now finding myself enjoying experimental works. John Cage said if you don’t like a 5-minute piece of music, listen to it for 15-minutes. If you still don’t like that piece, listen to it for an hour. If you still don’t like that piece of music, listen to it for 5 hours, etc. Eventually, after enough exposure to a piece, you will appreciate it and possibly even love it.. I am finding this to be true.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Blogging about the blog
[I have already sent this as an e-mail message, but thought I would put it on the blog nevertheless. See you in class tomorrow!]
I am of two minds about our foray into musical innovators this
semester. One mind is absolutely delighted. The other is worried.
Since I seem to be programmed to learn, or want to learn, I am
delighted to learn new things, discover new music, or fascinating
facts or stories about composers. Perhaps I like innovation, or
perhaps "renovation." So one way I judge a class or learning
experience is delight, and I must say I am delighted in both my
learning and YOUR learning. I just love the blog entries that you all
(almost all) of you have posted. The are so fresh, insightful, and
honest (even if they are not necessarily insightful about the music,
they give us insight into your mind and thinking processes, or
struggles and discoveries). Makes me want to jump up and shout (which
is one purpose of blogs, Isn't it?), although I have hardly had a
chance to whisper on the blog. No matter. What I see happening is
some genuine reflection on things often taken for granted or accepted
uncritically. And I see conversations taking place (or evidence of
those conversations) outside of class that strike me as very healthy
and the symptoms of a learning community. I also see evidence of
people venturing into their second circles (most have stayed out of
the third, or at least haven't admitted to it on the blog!) and, in
effect, widening their first circle. Nicola's recent post is a good
example of this process, and there are many more posts. One member of
the class told me s/he is going to study a composer "because I do not
like their music, and I want to understand it or why I feel this
way." Great second-circle orientation. Go for the edges with an open
mind and courageous heart, and you are bound for glory (and
learning). And if you share your process and journey, the rest of us
will be learning, too.
In short: Brav@s!
My other mind? Oh, yeah, not everyone is posting regularly, so I
worry. Are you with us? Are you in your own process? Or putting
things off until you find time to get engaged with the material, or
until fear takes over? You have plenty of rope in this class to roam
freely over the landscape, and some of you are discovering really
interesting things about the terrain, and places you haven't seen, or
haven't liked, before, and now they seem interesting. But others
probably need more structure, clearer deadlines, more support and
nurture, more threats.... So perhaps I should try to meet with each
of you individually this and next week to see how I can better invite
you into the second circle and help facilitate your learning. Or you
could tell me how I can help.
Otherwise, keep blogging, keep the conversations going. This is a
lifelong process, but there is a lot to learn right here and now about
innovation and tradition and, especially, about our own renewal.
See you tomorrow, when we'll talk about Harrison and Senor Chavez.
Cheers,
LB
I am of two minds about our foray into musical innovators this
semester. One mind is absolutely delighted. The other is worried.
Since I seem to be programmed to learn, or want to learn, I am
delighted to learn new things, discover new music, or fascinating
facts or stories about composers. Perhaps I like innovation, or
perhaps "renovation." So one way I judge a class or learning
experience is delight, and I must say I am delighted in both my
learning and YOUR learning. I just love the blog entries that you all
(almost all) of you have posted. The are so fresh, insightful, and
honest (even if they are not necessarily insightful about the music,
they give us insight into your mind and thinking processes, or
struggles and discoveries). Makes me want to jump up and shout (which
is one purpose of blogs, Isn't it?), although I have hardly had a
chance to whisper on the blog. No matter. What I see happening is
some genuine reflection on things often taken for granted or accepted
uncritically. And I see conversations taking place (or evidence of
those conversations) outside of class that strike me as very healthy
and the symptoms of a learning community. I also see evidence of
people venturing into their second circles (most have stayed out of
the third, or at least haven't admitted to it on the blog!) and, in
effect, widening their first circle. Nicola's recent post is a good
example of this process, and there are many more posts. One member of
the class told me s/he is going to study a composer "because I do not
like their music, and I want to understand it or why I feel this
way." Great second-circle orientation. Go for the edges with an open
mind and courageous heart, and you are bound for glory (and
learning). And if you share your process and journey, the rest of us
will be learning, too.
In short: Brav@s!
My other mind? Oh, yeah, not everyone is posting regularly, so I
worry. Are you with us? Are you in your own process? Or putting
things off until you find time to get engaged with the material, or
until fear takes over? You have plenty of rope in this class to roam
freely over the landscape, and some of you are discovering really
interesting things about the terrain, and places you haven't seen, or
haven't liked, before, and now they seem interesting. But others
probably need more structure, clearer deadlines, more support and
nurture, more threats.... So perhaps I should try to meet with each
of you individually this and next week to see how I can better invite
you into the second circle and help facilitate your learning. Or you
could tell me how I can help.
Otherwise, keep blogging, keep the conversations going. This is a
lifelong process, but there is a lot to learn right here and now about
innovation and tradition and, especially, about our own renewal.
See you tomorrow, when we'll talk about Harrison and Senor Chavez.
Cheers,
LB
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Food for thought
Okay, so we are, I believe, at half of our classes by now and until this point one matter has been occupying my thoughts. It has to do with the subject of innovations itself, I cannot stop questioning/thinking why one would innovate, or better stated, what would cause one to create new things? Taking Nancarrow for example, why a person is instigated to compose in such an innovative manner that makes even the possibility of performance scatter?
Well, in some of innumerous conversations with my husband we sort of addressed this matter of innovations. Our impression is that people do different things for three basic reasons: 1- they probably get bored of what is in fashion and fell like forced to change; 2- sometimes there is a need for change (I think we thought more about inventions to come up with this one); and 3- maybe changes occur because of an inherent need, that human race have, to be noticed. Is more like if every one of us, in our heart of hearts, always have dreamed on leaving a legacy behind ourselves. We want to be pointed out as “someone who did something remarkable.”
I was pretty satisfied with our conclusion, but I wanted to go further on the subject and I started my search for articles that could enlighten my curiosity. I looked on JSTOR, in their psychology collection, and found some articles, I glanced through them but they were not very helpful (well, if my inquiry was about the need of change related to marketing and products I would have been much rewarded with the results…). I finally found one which proved to be the more helpful, so far, even though it deals with sociologic aspects of it instead of psychological ones. It is a short and easy to read article “Some Sociological Remarks on Innovation in Music” from the International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music, Vol. 3, No. 2 (Dec., 1972), pp. 252-258 by Hugo de Jage.
I’ll try to summarize some of his points in here. When defining innovation Jager states that it “means deviation from accepted ways of behavior, in this case, of social accepted ways of creating music.” (252) He goes on further to say that the need for innovation is a psychological phenomenon and that sociology will try to investigate and explain “under which social conditions these psychological phenomena can successfully occur.” (254)
Jager believes that an individual can be innovative in two different ways: innovative in the means, and innovative in the goals. He gives Beethoven’s use of seventh chords at the beginning of his 1st Symphony as well as the addition of a third horn on his Eroica as examples of innovation in the means. According to him, what modern composers do is to “write music not to elevate the human mind or to please the ear but to arouse the political conscience of their audience” (254) and that should be considered innovation of the goals. Well, I don’t know if these were the correct motivations of Beethoven or modern composers (maybe Beethoven wanted to be innovative in the goals and modern composers just want to innovate in the means) but it is an interesting view.
The author points out some social conditions which can promote or delay innovation in music: 1- “the total of available elements in a society, (which is called its ‘cultural base’) influences the number – and perhaps the kind – of innovations a composer living in that society can make.” 2- a composer’s “social position and the roles assigned to him.”
At this point I don’t know if I have a definite answer to why innovative composers do/did things the ways they do/did – I actually don’t think one can have a definite answer to this matter – but
I surely have more food for thought now!
“So, indeed, all music was once new but – as the late John Mueller never tried to observe – one has to add: not always equally new.” Hugo de Jage
Well, in some of innumerous conversations with my husband we sort of addressed this matter of innovations. Our impression is that people do different things for three basic reasons: 1- they probably get bored of what is in fashion and fell like forced to change; 2- sometimes there is a need for change (I think we thought more about inventions to come up with this one); and 3- maybe changes occur because of an inherent need, that human race have, to be noticed. Is more like if every one of us, in our heart of hearts, always have dreamed on leaving a legacy behind ourselves. We want to be pointed out as “someone who did something remarkable.”
I was pretty satisfied with our conclusion, but I wanted to go further on the subject and I started my search for articles that could enlighten my curiosity. I looked on JSTOR, in their psychology collection, and found some articles, I glanced through them but they were not very helpful (well, if my inquiry was about the need of change related to marketing and products I would have been much rewarded with the results…). I finally found one which proved to be the more helpful, so far, even though it deals with sociologic aspects of it instead of psychological ones. It is a short and easy to read article “Some Sociological Remarks on Innovation in Music” from the International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music, Vol. 3, No. 2 (Dec., 1972), pp. 252-258 by Hugo de Jage.
I’ll try to summarize some of his points in here. When defining innovation Jager states that it “means deviation from accepted ways of behavior, in this case, of social accepted ways of creating music.” (252) He goes on further to say that the need for innovation is a psychological phenomenon and that sociology will try to investigate and explain “under which social conditions these psychological phenomena can successfully occur.” (254)
Jager believes that an individual can be innovative in two different ways: innovative in the means, and innovative in the goals. He gives Beethoven’s use of seventh chords at the beginning of his 1st Symphony as well as the addition of a third horn on his Eroica as examples of innovation in the means. According to him, what modern composers do is to “write music not to elevate the human mind or to please the ear but to arouse the political conscience of their audience” (254) and that should be considered innovation of the goals. Well, I don’t know if these were the correct motivations of Beethoven or modern composers (maybe Beethoven wanted to be innovative in the goals and modern composers just want to innovate in the means) but it is an interesting view.
The author points out some social conditions which can promote or delay innovation in music: 1- “the total of available elements in a society, (which is called its ‘cultural base’) influences the number – and perhaps the kind – of innovations a composer living in that society can make.” 2- a composer’s “social position and the roles assigned to him.”
At this point I don’t know if I have a definite answer to why innovative composers do/did things the ways they do/did – I actually don’t think one can have a definite answer to this matter – but
I surely have more food for thought now!
“So, indeed, all music was once new but – as the late John Mueller never tried to observe – one has to add: not always equally new.” Hugo de Jage
La Monte Young
Several weeks ago I would have skimmed over names such as Nicolas Slonimsky, and Kyle Gann. I would have attended recitals that programmed Ives and Cage and clapped without really knowing why. I would defiantly have bitched at the thought of listening to an entire cd of some dude called Nancarrow on my arduous drive from Morehead to Lexington twice a week. Now I find myself watching Youtube clips of a fellow classmate’s percussion recital and being enthralled by the sounds that are produced by an obscure machine, however irrelevant they may be to my own musical preference. I am checking out music from the library that could be defined as a ‘hole-punching composition’, reading quotes such as
"Without intrinsic talent, however, all the mechanical tricks in the world
would amount to nothing. The important thing is that Nancarrow’s method
gives full expression to what he has to say in purely musical terms.
And what he has to say, nobody, we may be certain, has ever said before."
"Without intrinsic talent, however, all the mechanical tricks in the world
would amount to nothing. The important thing is that Nancarrow’s method
gives full expression to what he has to say in purely musical terms.
And what he has to say, nobody, we may be certain, has ever said before."
(Nicolas Slonimsky)
and thinking ‘how profound!’. I have created a file in my itunes to store my new discoveries, and I’ve even begun to enjoy the obscure sounds of the minimalists and experimentalists I previously dismissed.
So on this snowy Sunday morning, I find myself dragging my hung over butt out of bed to get to the library. Why, you ask. Well, I discovered another fascinating musical character. I realize ‘character’ is probably not the most appropriate word but I use it in reference to the essence of the musician as well as his/her music. La Monte Young. How did I not know about this man? He is considered the founder of minimalism! So I’m claiming him for my presentation and thought I’d share a few interesting thoughts on this American Innovator.
Born in 1935 in Idaho, Young studied with Stockhausen and Maxfield. His first love was jazz but his musical influences stretched as far as Gregorian chant, Indonesian Gamelan, and Indian Classical music. Young’s music can be summarized in three periods viz. serial, Fluxus (group of composers and designers known for combining various artistic mediums so as to avoid art without function), and his repetitive period. But the thing that really grabbed my attention was his innovative approach to incorporating the social aspects of performance. An example is in his Composition 1960 #2 where he states to
"build a fire in front of the audience. Preferably, use wood although other
combustibles may be used as necessary….the composition may be of any
duration”
This multifaceted composer incorporated so many innovative ideas into his music including his work The Well-Tuned Piano that is written for a just-tuned piano and is almost 7 hours long! Unfortunately, there is very little in the way of recordings, which is surprising considering the extensive repertoire of compositions that exists. But more on La Monte Young soon….
and thinking ‘how profound!’. I have created a file in my itunes to store my new discoveries, and I’ve even begun to enjoy the obscure sounds of the minimalists and experimentalists I previously dismissed.
So on this snowy Sunday morning, I find myself dragging my hung over butt out of bed to get to the library. Why, you ask. Well, I discovered another fascinating musical character. I realize ‘character’ is probably not the most appropriate word but I use it in reference to the essence of the musician as well as his/her music. La Monte Young. How did I not know about this man? He is considered the founder of minimalism! So I’m claiming him for my presentation and thought I’d share a few interesting thoughts on this American Innovator.
Born in 1935 in Idaho, Young studied with Stockhausen and Maxfield. His first love was jazz but his musical influences stretched as far as Gregorian chant, Indonesian Gamelan, and Indian Classical music. Young’s music can be summarized in three periods viz. serial, Fluxus (group of composers and designers known for combining various artistic mediums so as to avoid art without function), and his repetitive period. But the thing that really grabbed my attention was his innovative approach to incorporating the social aspects of performance. An example is in his Composition 1960 #2 where he states to
"build a fire in front of the audience. Preferably, use wood although other
combustibles may be used as necessary….the composition may be of any
duration”
This multifaceted composer incorporated so many innovative ideas into his music including his work The Well-Tuned Piano that is written for a just-tuned piano and is almost 7 hours long! Unfortunately, there is very little in the way of recordings, which is surprising considering the extensive repertoire of compositions that exists. But more on La Monte Young soon….
Expanding your 2nd Learning Circle
It is my feeling that we as musicians should be more supportive of every kind of music, and to a larger extent the arts in general. Just like everyone else, I don’t have time to go to every recital and every event that Singletary hosts. But, when I do get to experience things such as the music we listen to in class, I try to absorb and appreciate as much of it as I possibly can. It just astounds me that throughout my career, I have met so many people that have expressed their disliked/hatred for certain types of music. How can a musician say, “I like everything but country music?” Blanket statements like that are just ludicrous. If someone says something similar to that statement, I find that it’s not because they don’t like whatever particular subject they’re talking about, but it’s that they don’t appreciate that type of music or are ignorant of it. And in these rough economic times, how can we as students of the arts not appreciate every other type of art that we are exposed to (especially music!). Because after all, if we can’t appreciate all of music, then how can we expect people that don’t love music the way we do to at least tolerate music (and hopefully to support and patron the musical arts).
I, for one, don’t listen to a lot of country, but I do appreciate it and have a couple of country songs that are in my favorites. But I would never say I dislike/hate country just because I don’t listen to it as much as some other music genres I am more accustomed to listening to. I’m sure if I had grown up with it, I would absolutely love country, but since I have a lack of experience with it, I can only appreciate it and wish I had the time to find even more country songs that I would like.
Hopefully, I haven’t missed the point by using country music as a reference, but as we listen to all these great pieces throughout this class, I’d hate to think that someone would walk away from this class referring to something we’ve listened to any of these pieces in a derogatory way. And I’m not saying that music can’t be described as painful, as long as you appreciate the music that was created that helped you experience pain, because, after all, if you had no reaction to the music that was played, then you probably shouldn’t be a musician.
Paraphrasing John Cage, if you don’t like a 5-minute piece of music, listen to it for 15-minutes. If you still don’t like that piece, listen to it for an hour. If you still don’t like that piece of music, listen to it for 5 hours, etc. Eventually, after enough exposure to a piece, you will appreciate it and possibly even love it.
It’s not that people don’t like a certain type of music; I think that people are just not as experienced with some genres of music. This isn’t uncommon, I’m still ignorant of hundreds of musical genres myself, but when I hear a new/different genre of music, I can no longer say I dislike/hate it, because in the end, I would be saying I dislike/hate the very thing that I love, art.
Anyways, I just hope that I’m not starting a blog-war with this, but I do hope that everyone tries to expand the size of their 2nd circle and try to eliminate their 3rd circle altogether.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Harry Partch
I defiantly agree with Cowell’s comment about Partch mentioned by Dr. Brunner in class, “He was a crazy guy”. His most well known innovation was his tuning system and his creation of instruments. Logically, he had to make his own instruments to demonstrate his tuning ideas. I couldn’t explain his tuning system in detail because I really had a hard time trying to understand it.
Forty-three pitches in an octave, as I’m a performance major, many questions came to my mind immediately: how did he notate the score and how did he play on the correct spots on the instrument? My first thought was: it must have many lines for a staff. Maybe he also created his own notation system to compose. But in fact, the score that I saw looked very much like normal music.
I also played some of Partch’s music to one of my friends who is a keyboard technician. That was an interesting moment to see his confusion while listening to Partch’s music. We had the same feeling about Partch’s music, and just as Partch’s had said himself before the music on the recording began: we might be too scholarly. The instruments sound out of tuned to us. But he was very interested to know Partch’s tuning ideas after I told him Harry Partch wrote a great book about tuning, Geneis of a Music.
After Jeffery’s presentation in the class, I realized that I couldn’t use the “traditional” aesthetic ideals to appreciate Partch’s composition. Because of his dramatic life experiences, it is not surprising that he became one of the great composers in the genre of experimentalism. The sounds around him are music. Of course, the “traditional” Equal Temperament pitch system does not satisfy him for his compositions. My interpretation of his motivation to invent a microtonal system is that it is what he heard in the sounds around him. The pitches are existing in the natural environment, and just need to be organized. This also can be an explaination for Partch’s very percussive ensemble style.
Listening to his Barstow was very entertaining and it is an avant-garde piece. I can image the theatric elements involved in this composition. It should be even more interesting to see as a life-performance which would include acting, costumes, and dancing. It feels like this would be one of the live performances that I would see on the street or subway. His music has a sense of reality and is easy to approach.
Maybe that was one of the reasons that he was considered an amateur. I don’t think there were any conservative composers who use text such as “what the hell” in their compositions at that time. It is still pretty crazy that the “classical” composer would use a swear word as composition material. For example, Grab It! by Jacob ter Veldhuis. Although the style and material are used very differently, I think they have a similar purpose in using the language – presenting an emotional form of speech.
Forty-three pitches in an octave, as I’m a performance major, many questions came to my mind immediately: how did he notate the score and how did he play on the correct spots on the instrument? My first thought was: it must have many lines for a staff. Maybe he also created his own notation system to compose. But in fact, the score that I saw looked very much like normal music.
I also played some of Partch’s music to one of my friends who is a keyboard technician. That was an interesting moment to see his confusion while listening to Partch’s music. We had the same feeling about Partch’s music, and just as Partch’s had said himself before the music on the recording began: we might be too scholarly. The instruments sound out of tuned to us. But he was very interested to know Partch’s tuning ideas after I told him Harry Partch wrote a great book about tuning, Geneis of a Music.
After Jeffery’s presentation in the class, I realized that I couldn’t use the “traditional” aesthetic ideals to appreciate Partch’s composition. Because of his dramatic life experiences, it is not surprising that he became one of the great composers in the genre of experimentalism. The sounds around him are music. Of course, the “traditional” Equal Temperament pitch system does not satisfy him for his compositions. My interpretation of his motivation to invent a microtonal system is that it is what he heard in the sounds around him. The pitches are existing in the natural environment, and just need to be organized. This also can be an explaination for Partch’s very percussive ensemble style.
Listening to his Barstow was very entertaining and it is an avant-garde piece. I can image the theatric elements involved in this composition. It should be even more interesting to see as a life-performance which would include acting, costumes, and dancing. It feels like this would be one of the live performances that I would see on the street or subway. His music has a sense of reality and is easy to approach.
Maybe that was one of the reasons that he was considered an amateur. I don’t think there were any conservative composers who use text such as “what the hell” in their compositions at that time. It is still pretty crazy that the “classical” composer would use a swear word as composition material. For example, Grab It! by Jacob ter Veldhuis. Although the style and material are used very differently, I think they have a similar purpose in using the language – presenting an emotional form of speech.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Microtonal follow-up
So, if anyone is interested, Kyle Gann fielded a question on his blog this week about exactly why he chooses to write microtonal music. That post is here:
http://www.artsjournal.com/postclassic/2009/02/top_six_reasons_to_wander_in_t.html
Also in this post is a link to Gann's artistic manifesto describing in greater detail why he writes microtonally. Hey, at least he's got a stance on the subject, which is better than I've got.
But here's the rub: so what? Cheryl and I had a good conversation about this in the hall the other day. La de freakin Dah if Partch wrote in 43 tones to the octave using mathematical processes that hearken back to ancient Greek methods of music-making. who cares? Is anyone here Greek enough or versed in ancient Greek performance practice to get the reference? If not, then what I get from it is "oh boy, am I smater than you, I used something so old that you don't get the reference. You are obviously not hip." Cheryl phrased and expounded on this another way, which I paraphrase and add to: Partch took an artistic stance that necessarily excluded so many things as possibilities in his music that he boxed himself into a position in which he was basically unable to innovate in any way beyond the use of 43-note scales. No revalations in the rhythm department, new instruments were cool, tuning was figured out fairly early on, etc, despite the fact that the audible result of his musicis usually very cool.
The way I see it, composers who desire to write microtonally, no matter how minimal the material (Gann), are basically no different than the integral serialists of the 50s or modern composers like Chris Adler (who you will learn about in April): The mathematical constructural demands of the piece can outweigh the audible/emotional results if not monitored carefully.
For that matter, post-New York John Cage is no different to me than Boulez or Stockhausen: I'm going to apply this concept, and the audio results is the realization of this concept, regardless of the outcome, be it integral serialism or indeterminacy. I place a fundamental importance of my personal regard for a piece on the audible result. I LOVE analysing Stockhausen. His percussion solo Zyklus from 1959 is one of the most finely-wrought compositions of the 20th Century in my opinion. But ya know what: my sister could basically reproduce the audible result by walking into the setup, picking up mallets, and recieving a very simple instruction ("Start somewhere, move around in a circle. Whatever instrument you are standing in front of at any given time should be hit the most, subject to change as you rotate"). Then ya go to town. Done.
Contrast this to David Lang, whose music is emminently analyzable on some level, and always sounds totally badass. Now that's what I'm talking about. Formal rigor, killer audible result. OK, I think that's enough for now. Bedtime.
http://www.artsjournal.com/postclassic/2009/02/top_six_reasons_to_wander_in_t.html
Also in this post is a link to Gann's artistic manifesto describing in greater detail why he writes microtonally. Hey, at least he's got a stance on the subject, which is better than I've got.
But here's the rub: so what? Cheryl and I had a good conversation about this in the hall the other day. La de freakin Dah if Partch wrote in 43 tones to the octave using mathematical processes that hearken back to ancient Greek methods of music-making. who cares? Is anyone here Greek enough or versed in ancient Greek performance practice to get the reference? If not, then what I get from it is "oh boy, am I smater than you, I used something so old that you don't get the reference. You are obviously not hip." Cheryl phrased and expounded on this another way, which I paraphrase and add to: Partch took an artistic stance that necessarily excluded so many things as possibilities in his music that he boxed himself into a position in which he was basically unable to innovate in any way beyond the use of 43-note scales. No revalations in the rhythm department, new instruments were cool, tuning was figured out fairly early on, etc, despite the fact that the audible result of his musicis usually very cool.
The way I see it, composers who desire to write microtonally, no matter how minimal the material (Gann), are basically no different than the integral serialists of the 50s or modern composers like Chris Adler (who you will learn about in April): The mathematical constructural demands of the piece can outweigh the audible/emotional results if not monitored carefully.
For that matter, post-New York John Cage is no different to me than Boulez or Stockhausen: I'm going to apply this concept, and the audio results is the realization of this concept, regardless of the outcome, be it integral serialism or indeterminacy. I place a fundamental importance of my personal regard for a piece on the audible result. I LOVE analysing Stockhausen. His percussion solo Zyklus from 1959 is one of the most finely-wrought compositions of the 20th Century in my opinion. But ya know what: my sister could basically reproduce the audible result by walking into the setup, picking up mallets, and recieving a very simple instruction ("Start somewhere, move around in a circle. Whatever instrument you are standing in front of at any given time should be hit the most, subject to change as you rotate"). Then ya go to town. Done.
Contrast this to David Lang, whose music is emminently analyzable on some level, and always sounds totally badass. Now that's what I'm talking about. Formal rigor, killer audible result. OK, I think that's enough for now. Bedtime.
The Death of Klinghoffer: A Multicutural Opera Part 1
The Death of Klinghoffer is a multicultural opera through and through. This can be seen on a variety of levels. First, the overall plot of the work: on an Italian cruise liner in the Mediterranean, Palestinians hijack the ship and kill a Jewish prisoner. Here, the century old struggle between Jew and Palestinian climaxes aboard a ship of another ethnicity.
In addition, there are other ethnicities on board who witness this entire struggle between Jew and Palestinian. Of all the arias in the first act, the nations of Switzerland, Italy, and Austria are represented in this struggle between Palestinian and Jew.
Also contributing to the tense nature of the plot, Adams writing is also very tense and dramatic. In his youth, Adams was regarded primarily as a minimalist composer. While his writing cannot and should not be lumped into the category of minimalism, much of it does retain and utilize minimalistic traits.
Here, Adams uses the driving motor like rhythms generated by minimalism as a way to build tension. This is very evident in the Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians. It opens quietly, but continues to build to a fierce climax. Throughout the duration of this first act, Adams uses driving rhythms at all dynamic levels, so even though the music itself might not sound openly dramatic or intense at every single moments, always present is the driving rhythm. Symbolically, one could view this as meaning that even though a brief respite may have been arrived at, the main issue is lurking, ready to make itself prominent once again.
Combined with the content of the first act (and as will be examined next week the second act), there is little optimism in this piece. In addition, as the work progresses, the focal point of the conflict narrows until finally it is between Jew and Palestinian, climaxing in Klinghoffer's death.
This first act is a piece of music that is highly relevant to our country today (the second act is also relevant, but for different reasons, which, when combined with the first act, makes this opera one of tremendous relevance today.) It is because it shows how the struggles of just two nations can affect the nations of the world.The issues raised by The Death of Klinghoffer are by no means fun to deal with. They affect everyone directly and likewise must be dealt with (personally, I am a fundamentalist Baptist and I have my own beliefs on the situation, which I would like to emphasize they are my personal beliefs and that I will not take issue with anyone who wishes to disagree with me, since they, just like I, am entitled to a different opinion.) We do not live in a world that is so large that one can go someplace and not be affected by the problems at large. Instead, we must be willing to accept that fact that the entire world we live in is a place of trouble, and it has been that way for all of history.
With that, we will look at the second act next week.
In addition, there are other ethnicities on board who witness this entire struggle between Jew and Palestinian. Of all the arias in the first act, the nations of Switzerland, Italy, and Austria are represented in this struggle between Palestinian and Jew.
Also contributing to the tense nature of the plot, Adams writing is also very tense and dramatic. In his youth, Adams was regarded primarily as a minimalist composer. While his writing cannot and should not be lumped into the category of minimalism, much of it does retain and utilize minimalistic traits.
Here, Adams uses the driving motor like rhythms generated by minimalism as a way to build tension. This is very evident in the Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians. It opens quietly, but continues to build to a fierce climax. Throughout the duration of this first act, Adams uses driving rhythms at all dynamic levels, so even though the music itself might not sound openly dramatic or intense at every single moments, always present is the driving rhythm. Symbolically, one could view this as meaning that even though a brief respite may have been arrived at, the main issue is lurking, ready to make itself prominent once again.
Combined with the content of the first act (and as will be examined next week the second act), there is little optimism in this piece. In addition, as the work progresses, the focal point of the conflict narrows until finally it is between Jew and Palestinian, climaxing in Klinghoffer's death.
This first act is a piece of music that is highly relevant to our country today (the second act is also relevant, but for different reasons, which, when combined with the first act, makes this opera one of tremendous relevance today.) It is because it shows how the struggles of just two nations can affect the nations of the world.The issues raised by The Death of Klinghoffer are by no means fun to deal with. They affect everyone directly and likewise must be dealt with (personally, I am a fundamentalist Baptist and I have my own beliefs on the situation, which I would like to emphasize they are my personal beliefs and that I will not take issue with anyone who wishes to disagree with me, since they, just like I, am entitled to a different opinion.) We do not live in a world that is so large that one can go someplace and not be affected by the problems at large. Instead, we must be willing to accept that fact that the entire world we live in is a place of trouble, and it has been that way for all of history.
With that, we will look at the second act next week.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The cranky curmudgeon is back, this time to enter the ludicrous wiseacring he imposed upon the class last Tuesday in this blog. This way, the indictment can declare concrete offenses and not rely upon unreliable memories of fellow classmates.
First was my oh-so-insightful sudden realization about the apparent fate of Ives' renowned dictum "What has sound got to do with music?" An interesting thesis, one which to any casual listener would seem ridiculous on its face. Nonetheless, it occurs to the C.C. that the ultramodernists of Europe, the integral serialists such as Boulez, and their Stateside compatriots such as Babbitt, had embraced Ives' concept wholeheartedly. A few semesters ago, I studied a work of Boulez in a modern music theory class, and was struck by its mechanistic ethos. Boulez had determined his tone rows, and his dynamics series, and his pre-ordained rhythmic patterns, and had in the end, created a piece that essentially wrote itself, in that once the compositional rules had been laid out, all musical events within became inalterable relations of these assorted rows. The folks at home, given the rows and rules, could map out the piece without Boulez having to bother doing the writing himself. The point is that this work demonstrated a complete indifference to actual sonic result: the work was conceived as a process to be puzzled out, and what was actually presented to the ear was of no concern. In summary, the Boulez work very much answered Ives' question with the unstated reply "Why, nothing, of course."
Now let us turn our attention to the American crazies stationed along US80. My talk on Tuesday was about Harry Partch, who, due to his UI residence during the 1950s in Champagne-Urbana, can be counted among the Midwestern composers. In Partch's music, the sound is everything he is after in his work. His sophisticated intonation theories were developed specifically in order to "better" the harmonic content of what reached the ear. He used no rows of tones, or any other quantifiable musical property, but went right for what sounded right to him. By extension, his music would in turn sound right to the listener, but what is significant is the sound itself. Hence, my thesis is that Partch and his colleagues of those Midwestern colleges staunchly answered the Ives question with a proud "Why, everything, of course."
A cursory review of the fates of the musics, in critical/popular estimation, of the integral serialists versus the crazy US80 composers suggests strongly that the music of the latter has endured rather better, and that, in the end, Ives' question has been settled, not in his favor.
In my discussion of Partch on Tuesday, the class may remember, not without disdain and contrition, of my observation about how Cowell developed tremendous theories developing sophisticated and subtle patterns of rhythmic proportions. Cowell demanded that modern composers break out of the trap of meter, but instead attend to ratios of rhythm. Interestingly, one of the C.C.'s very favorite modern composers, Olivier Messiaen, also determined to escape the trap of meter, but simply by giving notes individual durations, not tied to any meter. Hence, performance of Messiaen requires determining the smallest durational value of the work (eighth note? sixteenth note?), and playing all notes as sums of that smaller value. This breaks out of meter, but goes nowhere near the elaborations that Cowell envisioned. Also. Cowell strove to range through series of tempos, seeming to suggest a row possibility that the integral serialists overlooked, and proposing a compositional approach that Messiaen never thought of trying.
Against that is the music of Partch, which, thanks to the prevalence of tuned percussion in his ensembles, has very clever and at times driving rhythmic patterns in his music. After all, percussion, tuned or otherwise, tend to have very short sound periods per note, and thus is likely to play lots o' notes per metric moment. Hence, all the flashy and riveting percussion licks heard in Partch's music. Nonetheless, Partch apparently did not develop rhythmic theories as he did extensive revision of Western intonation theory. His music is quite striking in its rhythmic qualities, but only in its intonation is there a developed theory of operation. Otherwise, Partch presumably wrote what he thought sounded good, and his preferences drove him to build a cogent and versatile theory governing the axis of frequency, but not one of time. Curiously, Cowell was apparently driven by his investigations to do the reverse, his justifications of tone clusters as containing higher frequency partials striking a more cynical observer, such as the C.C., as little more than an excuse. Of course, back in the 1920s, playing piano with the forearm
would have demanded some justification, and Cowell's reasoning probably was necessary to prevent him from being physically thrown off of the piano stool.
First was my oh-so-insightful sudden realization about the apparent fate of Ives' renowned dictum "What has sound got to do with music?" An interesting thesis, one which to any casual listener would seem ridiculous on its face. Nonetheless, it occurs to the C.C. that the ultramodernists of Europe, the integral serialists such as Boulez, and their Stateside compatriots such as Babbitt, had embraced Ives' concept wholeheartedly. A few semesters ago, I studied a work of Boulez in a modern music theory class, and was struck by its mechanistic ethos. Boulez had determined his tone rows, and his dynamics series, and his pre-ordained rhythmic patterns, and had in the end, created a piece that essentially wrote itself, in that once the compositional rules had been laid out, all musical events within became inalterable relations of these assorted rows. The folks at home, given the rows and rules, could map out the piece without Boulez having to bother doing the writing himself. The point is that this work demonstrated a complete indifference to actual sonic result: the work was conceived as a process to be puzzled out, and what was actually presented to the ear was of no concern. In summary, the Boulez work very much answered Ives' question with the unstated reply "Why, nothing, of course."
Now let us turn our attention to the American crazies stationed along US80. My talk on Tuesday was about Harry Partch, who, due to his UI residence during the 1950s in Champagne-Urbana, can be counted among the Midwestern composers. In Partch's music, the sound is everything he is after in his work. His sophisticated intonation theories were developed specifically in order to "better" the harmonic content of what reached the ear. He used no rows of tones, or any other quantifiable musical property, but went right for what sounded right to him. By extension, his music would in turn sound right to the listener, but what is significant is the sound itself. Hence, my thesis is that Partch and his colleagues of those Midwestern colleges staunchly answered the Ives question with a proud "Why, everything, of course."
A cursory review of the fates of the musics, in critical/popular estimation, of the integral serialists versus the crazy US80 composers suggests strongly that the music of the latter has endured rather better, and that, in the end, Ives' question has been settled, not in his favor.
In my discussion of Partch on Tuesday, the class may remember, not without disdain and contrition, of my observation about how Cowell developed tremendous theories developing sophisticated and subtle patterns of rhythmic proportions. Cowell demanded that modern composers break out of the trap of meter, but instead attend to ratios of rhythm. Interestingly, one of the C.C.'s very favorite modern composers, Olivier Messiaen, also determined to escape the trap of meter, but simply by giving notes individual durations, not tied to any meter. Hence, performance of Messiaen requires determining the smallest durational value of the work (eighth note? sixteenth note?), and playing all notes as sums of that smaller value. This breaks out of meter, but goes nowhere near the elaborations that Cowell envisioned. Also. Cowell strove to range through series of tempos, seeming to suggest a row possibility that the integral serialists overlooked, and proposing a compositional approach that Messiaen never thought of trying.
Against that is the music of Partch, which, thanks to the prevalence of tuned percussion in his ensembles, has very clever and at times driving rhythmic patterns in his music. After all, percussion, tuned or otherwise, tend to have very short sound periods per note, and thus is likely to play lots o' notes per metric moment. Hence, all the flashy and riveting percussion licks heard in Partch's music. Nonetheless, Partch apparently did not develop rhythmic theories as he did extensive revision of Western intonation theory. His music is quite striking in its rhythmic qualities, but only in its intonation is there a developed theory of operation. Otherwise, Partch presumably wrote what he thought sounded good, and his preferences drove him to build a cogent and versatile theory governing the axis of frequency, but not one of time. Curiously, Cowell was apparently driven by his investigations to do the reverse, his justifications of tone clusters as containing higher frequency partials striking a more cynical observer, such as the C.C., as little more than an excuse. Of course, back in the 1920s, playing piano with the forearm
would have demanded some justification, and Cowell's reasoning probably was necessary to prevent him from being physically thrown off of the piano stool.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Harry Partch
In preparing for today's class I was enthralled by yet another composer with which I was not at all acquainted, Harry Partch. As you so eloquently wrote Cheryl, i too am constantly reminded, in this class especially, how very little I actually know. I am comforted only by the idea that Dr. Brunner is right when he said that one learns more efficiently when outside of your comfort zone.
So before Jeffrey enlightens us with his knowledge of this fascinating musician today in class, I thought I better have my P's and Q's in order. Gann summarizes Partch's life quite well but I found that Dr. Brunners suggestion of consulting Youtube as a valuable source for experiencing this composers work (visit harry Partch-Music studio- Part 1 and 2 on Youtube) most helpful. I use the word 'experiencing' deliberately because that does truly seem like the most appropriate way to hear his music. Partch himself says that his music should be seen and heard which, for me means that audio recordings alone do not suffice.
One of the first things that came to mind when reading of Partch's extreme creativity and musical innovation was gesamtkunswerk. I realize this term is associated with Wagner, his operas and the synthesis of every element of the performance art including stage, costume, and musical design. But perhaps this term could be applied to Partch's innovation in terms of his instrument creations, dance, music and costume designs for his compositions. I realize this could be a far stretch.
If I summarize Partch for my own reference, I would say he was an:
- instrument creator (adapted viola, Chromelodeon, Kithara, Diamond Marimba)
- music theory innovator (Genesis of a Music, 43-pitch scale)
- composer
- teacher
- performer/experimentalist
What a conglomerate of titles and a truly fascinating character. I look forward to learning more about this American Innovator...take it away Jeffrey!
Monday, February 16, 2009
How would you like your piano prepared?
A big "THANK YOU" to Kyle for encouraging me to check out the music and world of Martin Bresnick. While I was eager to begin this class and to explore what has been or is new in the world of music, I was slow out of the blocks for a plethora of reasons. As time goes on in my life, I realize more and more how little I truly know about only a very few "things." Perhaps this goes back to our discussions of our "learning edges." Sometimes, to look out and see so much new and unfamiliar can be daunting for me. I do not know where to even start exploring. This is when I need a nudge or suggestion. Finally, early Saturday morning, I did begin to explore during my favorite time of day - before the sun rises and while all is quiet.
In my wanderings, I stumbled upon many interesting places. One site many of you are likely already aware of is: Sequenza21/ - The Contemporary Classical Music Community. If you do not already know about it, click on the picture at the top to read an interesting story about the Ethos NewSound Festival at SUNY Fredonia. In the picture, students are gathered around watching Michelle Schumann and her amazing piano-tech friendly prepared piano kit readying the piano for a performance of some John Cage ditties.
Here, I also met Ketty Nez -- whose music [which you can hear at her own website] fascinates me. This started a chain of thought regarding contemporary American female composers as well as those of the past. I came along at the tail end of a time when women still had their pathways to pursuing passions littered with a pastiche of obstacles. Honestly, I believe all of us in the world of music, regardless of gender, face a variety of challenges daily which we must creatively maneuver around. This is not a choice for us -- we simply cannot imagine any other life.
Like Mike, my post is brief [even briefer because the first, much more well-written, attempt was lost...sad story]. I just wanted to share where I am.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Death of Klinghoffer: An Introduction
John Adams first Opera Nixon in China depicted the famous visit of President Nixon to China. There was not much controversy surrounding either the plot or political implications that Adams could have potentially intended.
The opposite is the case with Adams second opera. The Death of Klinghoffer was boycotted by Jews living in New York at its New York premiere, and has remained highly controversial. Jews find the depiction of Klinghoffer and the Palestinian terrorists who ultimately murder him to be anti-Semitic, while Palestinians find Klinghoffer's murder in the second act to be Zionistic.
Controversy surrounded the opera in 2001 when Adams was scheduled to conduct the Boston Symphony in a November Concert. Originally scheduled on the concert were the two opening choruses from the opera (Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians and the Chorus of the exiled Israelis.) The Boston Symphony Chorus was scheduled to join the Boston Symphony Orchestra to perform both of these works under the direction of Adams.
In September of 2001, the terrorist attacks in New York had shaken the country, and had also claimed the lives of relatives of people who would likely be in the audience for that concert. In addition, one of the chorus members had lost a relative in the terrorist attacks as well. It was for these reasons that both choruses were omitted from the final program (for more information regarding this, please consult The John Adams Reader.)
On that fateful day in September of 2001, Adams was in London England for a recording session of none other than The Death of Klinghoffer. This session was a part of a production of the opera to be broadcast on television. (According to The John Adams Reader) the recording session was halted as soon as it was announced to them what had occurred in New York and Washington. The recording sessions were cancelled for the rest of that day and the next, but were eventually resumed and the project was completed.
The plot of the opera takes place in 1985 on an Italian Cruise ship Achille Lauro sailing in the Mediterranean. Leon Klinghoffer and his wife are among the passengers taking this cruise when Palestinians take of control of the ship and hold it and its captives for ransom. During the kidnapping of the passengers, it is revealed to the Palestinians that Klinghoffer is a Jew. The situation is tense with Klinghoffer's resistance of the Palestinian captors. Klinghoffer (who is an invalid in his late 60s) is subsequently shot to death and his body is thrown overboard. The opera concludes with the ship's captain informing Klinghoffer's wife of his demise.
The opera is in two acts, with the prologue featuring the Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians and the Chorus of the Exiled Israelis (originally there was a scene between the two choruses portraying the friends of the Klinghoffer's in New York City but this was deleted prior to the premiere). Because of the subplots involved, this brief synopsis is not enough to gain an understanding of what is going on both musically and dramatically within the opera. The first thing to be examined will be the two opening choruses, followed by Act 1 and then Act 2.
The opposite is the case with Adams second opera. The Death of Klinghoffer was boycotted by Jews living in New York at its New York premiere, and has remained highly controversial. Jews find the depiction of Klinghoffer and the Palestinian terrorists who ultimately murder him to be anti-Semitic, while Palestinians find Klinghoffer's murder in the second act to be Zionistic.
Controversy surrounded the opera in 2001 when Adams was scheduled to conduct the Boston Symphony in a November Concert. Originally scheduled on the concert were the two opening choruses from the opera (Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians and the Chorus of the exiled Israelis.) The Boston Symphony Chorus was scheduled to join the Boston Symphony Orchestra to perform both of these works under the direction of Adams.
In September of 2001, the terrorist attacks in New York had shaken the country, and had also claimed the lives of relatives of people who would likely be in the audience for that concert. In addition, one of the chorus members had lost a relative in the terrorist attacks as well. It was for these reasons that both choruses were omitted from the final program (for more information regarding this, please consult The John Adams Reader.)
On that fateful day in September of 2001, Adams was in London England for a recording session of none other than The Death of Klinghoffer. This session was a part of a production of the opera to be broadcast on television. (According to The John Adams Reader) the recording session was halted as soon as it was announced to them what had occurred in New York and Washington. The recording sessions were cancelled for the rest of that day and the next, but were eventually resumed and the project was completed.
The plot of the opera takes place in 1985 on an Italian Cruise ship Achille Lauro sailing in the Mediterranean. Leon Klinghoffer and his wife are among the passengers taking this cruise when Palestinians take of control of the ship and hold it and its captives for ransom. During the kidnapping of the passengers, it is revealed to the Palestinians that Klinghoffer is a Jew. The situation is tense with Klinghoffer's resistance of the Palestinian captors. Klinghoffer (who is an invalid in his late 60s) is subsequently shot to death and his body is thrown overboard. The opera concludes with the ship's captain informing Klinghoffer's wife of his demise.
The opera is in two acts, with the prologue featuring the Chorus of the Exiled Palestinians and the Chorus of the Exiled Israelis (originally there was a scene between the two choruses portraying the friends of the Klinghoffer's in New York City but this was deleted prior to the premiere). Because of the subplots involved, this brief synopsis is not enough to gain an understanding of what is going on both musically and dramatically within the opera. The first thing to be examined will be the two opening choruses, followed by Act 1 and then Act 2.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Some thoughts on Tuesday's class and Cowell.
Before I blog again....this is Rugby, my new puppy and i just wanted to show him off.The more I let the information sink in from class to class, the more thoughts I have about the subject. (Which I guess is natural.) After doing the reading in the Gann about his development of theory based on the harmonic series, I went back and listened to some of his music. And maybe as I listened to his music, the less and less dissonant it sounded. It could be that I was becoming desensitized to the clusters, but maybe after having an understanding of what Cowell's aesthetic, I was able to hear what he intended the listener to hear.
In Cowell's earlier music he utilized simple melodies over tone clusters as a means of composition. I have not actually looked at the scores but the example of "The Tiger" doesn't really show a range of the clusters. Should the clusters sound the same every time you play the piece? I don't know. I would have to listen to more performances of his music to have a better understanding. But one thing I took in from listening to some examples is that the "harmony" created by the clusters seemed to compliment the melodies being played in the right hand. It didn't sound as dissonant as one would expect. I found that when I focused one the "melody" I was able to make harmonies in my head. The music became much more interesting to me, the more I listened to it.
Another thing that was interesting about these pieces was the rhythmic aspects of the music. I would like to find the time to read more about his thoughts on rhythmic notation. In some of the pieces there was a very lively hythmic energy and I wanted to see how it was notated.
I would like to know how Cowell thought of himself in his role in American music. The book has him listed as an ultramodernist and he had his own new music society. Was Cowell opposed to the European-stlye American composer like the other composer's during this period of American music? I wonder this because the latter part of Cowell's music seems to be more conservative. The music is still interesting because he uses music and inflences from all over the world, but he became more reliant on standard forms. (Even though his symphonies have about twice the amount of movements as your standard symphony.) Cowell seems to settle down from his rebellious "teen" phase and settled down to a style that was more subdued. When you compare his piano works with some of his orchestral pieces, there is a noticable difference. The orchestral music is more tonal and it doesn't seem like a logical progression of style. Maybe this is just a sign of Cowell's maturity in life, but I am left to wonder if Cowell still considered himself as an "ultramodernist." But then again does being an ultramodernist mean that you can't be conservative? Does the music have to be completely alien from what is already around to be modern? I think Cowell does a fine job of reamining fresh and modern in his later style.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"Subversive Prophet"
For those of you who prefer to do your reading from the comfort of your own home, here's a website that contains Kyle Gann's essay "Subversive Prophet: Henry Cowell as Theorist and Critic".
If you go to googlebooks.com and type in "Subversive Prophet",'The Whole World of Music' is the first link and it contains the entire chapter for your reading convenience
Cowell's New Musical Resources
I read Cowell's "New Musical Resources" a while ago and thought that it might be nice to cover a topic or two of it since maybe not everyone has access to it. We just recently read an article that gave is explanation for a new system where note values are assigned by the shape of their head and not using just the common quarter- and eight-note systems we currently use, placing brackets with numbers to designate the length of that note. Cowell came up with a great system, if anyone hasn't seen Brian Ferneyhough's "Bone Alphabet" (which is a contemporary percussion solo), you should check it out. It is riddled with a mass of bracketed rhythms within bracket rhythms (as some refer to them as "nested rhythms"). If we were fluent in Cowell's rhythmic notation, it would make pieces like "Bone Alphabet" a lot easier to read (theoretically...). All of this is located in the first section of the chapter entitled "Rhythm" in the subsection labeled "Time," but beyond this he starts to utilize the theory that meter can be treated the same way a harmony is by using math to figure out how many beats per minute a meter will create, which will determine a given pitch. Because, after all, pitch is made up of beats per minutes, we just think of these as waves instead of individual beats with space in between. He goes on and uses things like dynamics, forms, and a whole slew of other things to try and give composers a library of new resources to be able to develop throughout a piece.
The most interesting part of the book for me is in the first chapter "Tone Combinations" where he explores the idea of overtones and undertones. An undertone is similar to an overtone in that it is has a mathematical relation a the fundamental note. So in the overtones series, if C = 16 vibrations, then an octave above that is C = 32 (16x2), then an octave and a fifth above is 48 (16x3), and so on and so on. Undertones are related in the same way, except they go down. So, if you have a C = 256 vibraphones, then an octave below that will sound at C = 128 (256/2), then a octave and perfect sixth below that will be F = 85.333 (256/3), and so on and so on. Cowell proved this by making chambers/rooms that were the exact size to contain a certain volume of air that would resonate at certain low frequencies, and then all he would have to do is play a pure sound that would resonate with an undertone at the pitch of the room and you would be able to hear a tone that was not a part of the overtone series.
Long story short, he basically attributes undertones as a new way to view harmony. So now we are not confined to traditional thinking of the overtone series where the G above C is considered harmonious, but now we should feel more free to explore tones that we wouldn't normally associate with a certain note because the undertone series will make most notes that we do not commonly think of as sonorous as actually having a high harmonic connection to its root note. Now we are free to harmonize C with D and Ab.
I think this gives insight to why he used his tone-clusters, because in the long run, pretty much every note in the 12 note scale is closely related to the rest, so why not play them all at once!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Varese, once again
I really appreciated Ben's point that Ionisation can be considered the first "good" piece of percussion music, much like Monteverdi's Orfeo becoming the first (oldest) opera to gain a permanent place in the repetoire. As Ben pointed out, Varese took this music to the height of legitimacy and I am particularly indebted to Kyle for helping explain exactly how this was accomplished.
Like most of the class, I had heard Ionisation before. I even introduced it to my younger brother, a budding percussionist at age 13. But I could not have told you why it achieved the notoriety that it has, other than the fact that it is generally believed to be the first percussion ensemble piece, which we now know is not the case. I figured there was structure buried in it somewhere and probably some rhythmic motives that get passed around. And there are. On a scope and at a level that is so deep that it was slightly hard to follow.
I appreciate percussion music, perhaps in spite of my background as a wind player. But I must acknowledge a preference for percussion music with even the barest scrap of melody or at leasat a readily identifiable riff. My bearings become a little lost otherwise - as was rather amusingly demonstrated by our repeated listenings in class. The Schick article was fascinating and engagingly written, drawing me into Varese's sound world and conception of form. It was a revelation that the title actually related to the musical material of the piece as the groups of affinities were transformed. It was daunting to follow all the examples showing exactly where secco instruments imitated resonant instruments and resonant instruments play secco themes at tempos so slow the ear cannot perceive them.
The funny part is, I heard none of it. Not on our first or second hearing. Which does not mean it was all a load of hogwash. It means I need to listen again - and probably once again for good measure - until I not only know intellectually that sound masses are colliding and interpenetrating but until I can hear it for myself and then point out where those transformations occur. Far from familiarity breeding contempt, here it breeds greater respect and repeated listenings for sheer enjoyment. Which I think is really my ultimate goal for this class.
Film Music
In a discussion of American music, one would be remiss to forego any mention of film music, a genre that owes a great deal to the New World. Certainly, any music by sought-after composers in Hollywood is bound to be widely disseminated around the world.
In many academic circles, composers of film music are looked upon as hacks and accused of regressing music to the late Romantic Era. It is true; some film composers are not worth looking into, but is this true of all? Do they lack the very element we have been seeking to understand—innovation?
John Williams is, naturally, the first film composer that leaps to mind. I have heard colleagues disparage his music, saying "it all sounds the same." A poor argument indeed, considering most great composers (I am thinking particularly of Mozart) have their own sound. I imagine a great deal of these opinions, mostly from graduate composition students (in my experience), have been steeped in the knowledge that John Williams is making more money being consonant than they ever will being "true to themselves." As the stereotype goes, any musician who makes money must not be much of a musician. (Hmm, that sentence was much more alliterative than I expected.)
So the question remains, has John Williams, or any other film composer, contributed to the evolution of music? I suspect that it has but in unexpected ways.
It does not seem to come down to music as entertainment is inferior to music as pure art. No, because then opera, incidental play music, indeed a great deal of music, would be swept down the drain as well. The dichotomy seems to be more along the lines of esoteric music versus exoteric music—id est music requiring more obscure knowledge to appreciate, versus music that the common person can enjoy. Suffice it to say, I do not ascribe to the notion that esoteric music is superior, only that esoteric knowledge increases appreciation of music. E.g., Anyone, even the layman, can enjoy Mozart; however, increased knowledge of Mozart, his music (and music in general) only increases that appreciation. I am picking on Mozart because his is one of the few names with which most non-musicians are familiar, the poster child (prodigy) for classical music, if you will.
I am of the opinion that well-written film and television music is keeping the art music tradition alive in popular culture. Suffice it to say, when the Second Viennese School abandoned the tonal tradition, they lost classical (in this sense, "art music") its audience. Thus we see the rise of jazz and popular music not long after. Most people today care little for classical music, but frequently love the soundtracks to Star Wars, Spiderman, and Lord of the Rings, little knowing that these soundtracks grow quite naturally out of the loam of the classical tradition. Of course, modern film music is not simply a reiteration of music written in the late 19th century. No, it is now flavored with the textures and sounds made available the development of art music that has remained largely hidden from the public eye. Atonal and dodecaphonic organization often come into play in movie scores now, whereas they could not have when the film industry was in its infancy.
I have avoided going into specific analyses of various film/TV scores, even though I know everyone would find it absolutely riveting. But I can think of a number of examples, just from having listened to movie soundtracks so frequently.
The interaction between tradition and innovation is still nagging at me somewhat. I think the influence of tradition is obvious, but the nature of innovation seems nebulous. I cannot say that what film composers are doing will change the course of musical development (how I would normally think of innovation), but I do hear a blending of new and old ideas, certainly in the plethora of timbres and ethnic instruments widely used in film and television.
I'm sure there are other interesting sources, but one that I have just recently become aware of is Bear McCreary's blog. McCreary is the composer for Battlestar Galactica and Terminator: Sarah Conner Chronicles. In his blog, he actually follows up newly aired episodes of Battlestar with remarkably detailed analysis of what the music is doing in relation to the drama on screen. You can find it at http://bearmccreary.com/blog/
Overcoming my edge and some thoughts on modern music
I think I am probably the last person from class to contribute to the blog, and I haven't had a lot of time to read a good portion of the posts, but I guess that I it is time to share some thoughts on music--especially the music we are covering in class. After reading the second chapter it seems crazy to me how many factions and sects of "modern" American composers there are. It seems so surprising to me how divided composers in America seem to have been. The Pan Americans, and League of Composers, and Pro Musica(s) at the time seem to never end. From my point of view, I can't relate with how divided composers of the time were. I know that this is not a new idea. We all know of the Wagner, Bruchner v. Brahms stories, but it seems more odd to me that this type of situation was taking place in America in the 1920s. The U.S. is a melting pot of cultures and ideas. In light of all of the other things that were going on in the world, I would have thought that the artistic community would have celebrated the amount of variety coming from American composers....at least in America.
After reading more about Henry Cowell's life and carreer in chapter 2 of the Gann, I wanted to point out (for lack of a better word) arrogance that the European composers had towards the concert tour featuring the music of Ive's, etc. The fact that they commented on how the music was copying Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring," and other examples demonstrates their air of superiority toward their American counterparts. Although the war diminished the success of Cowell's tour, I agree with Gann that it was a good start in showing how American composers were coming into their own. It's a shame American composers of the time weren't recognized for what they were doing.
There were so many labels to describe American composers of the time. (Sadly, it's that way today.) These labels did nothing but further alienate people from their music. Why can't you like more than one type? I love hearing new things. In the four weeks of class I have been exposed to numerous pieces that I have never heard before. I'm not saying that all of them have made it to my iPod, but some of the music really caught my attention.
I just feel that it is a little sad that composers couldn't have been as supportive of each other, and created an environment where they would have been more inspired to create. Wh0 cares if you are a neo-classicist or a ulra-mdernest, new wave passive agressivist (that last one isn't real)? The variety in the expression of music is one of my favorite things about being a musician. There will always be new and different ways of making music....maybe we should all be more open to them.
Sorry if I rambled.
After reading more about Henry Cowell's life and carreer in chapter 2 of the Gann, I wanted to point out (for lack of a better word) arrogance that the European composers had towards the concert tour featuring the music of Ive's, etc. The fact that they commented on how the music was copying Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring," and other examples demonstrates their air of superiority toward their American counterparts. Although the war diminished the success of Cowell's tour, I agree with Gann that it was a good start in showing how American composers were coming into their own. It's a shame American composers of the time weren't recognized for what they were doing.
There were so many labels to describe American composers of the time. (Sadly, it's that way today.) These labels did nothing but further alienate people from their music. Why can't you like more than one type? I love hearing new things. In the four weeks of class I have been exposed to numerous pieces that I have never heard before. I'm not saying that all of them have made it to my iPod, but some of the music really caught my attention.
I just feel that it is a little sad that composers couldn't have been as supportive of each other, and created an environment where they would have been more inspired to create. Wh0 cares if you are a neo-classicist or a ulra-mdernest, new wave passive agressivist (that last one isn't real)? The variety in the expression of music is one of my favorite things about being a musician. There will always be new and different ways of making music....maybe we should all be more open to them.
Sorry if I rambled.
American Jazz Innovators ARE Important!
Who is this? If you don't know, you should. He is Miles Davis who is one of the most influential jazz musicians. When discussing "American Music", what's more American than jazz? American Jazz Innovators should not be ignored. Jazz innovation plays a prominent role on American music. Charles Ives worked ragtime music into his piano compositions in the early 1890's. Did you know that Copland and Milhaud were using jazz inflections in their music? Also, did you know that Duke Ellington was influenced by Debussy and Ravel? Jazz music has inspired and influenced music in 1890 until today. When speaking of American Innovators the names, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, John Coltrane, and Miles Davis should pop up on your list. They are just as important to our culture as Ives, and many others. If you read further into our text by Kyle Gann you will find a small chapter on jazz innovation chapter "11". Yes, jazz has been forced to file bankrupcy chapter "11". For those of you who don't know a great deal about jazz innovation please read this chapter, although brief it will give you a crash course about jazz. My blogs this semester will each involve a different take on the periods of American Jazz innovation.Early Jazz, Big Band Jazz and Swing, Bebop, Cool Jazz, Hard Bop, Post Bop, Free Jazz and the Avant Garde, Fusion, Post Modern Jazz, The Present. I guess one could say this is my "edge" in American Music. As a trumpeter who performs jazz I feel a responsibility to make our class realize the innovations and the importance of jazz through American Music History. I also would love to know more about jazz and its innovations. I have started reading The Autobiography on Miles Davis. I have been told this book will give you the true insight on American Jazz Innovation. What is American Jazz? Well jazz has many faces, Latin jazz, Cuban jazz, and the jazz that most of us are familiar with. Jazz is American! North, Central, and South America all influence what we call "American Jazz"
Monday, February 9, 2009
John Adams: The Ultimate American Composer
It may seem somewhat contradictory after having spent a good deal of time pointing out the flaws of utilizing the term American composer to go ahead and label someone a composer. However, because of the nature and unique character of his music, John Adams must be seen as a truly American composer. His music is such that is able to transcend the national and ethnic boundaries of this hemisphere.
One needs to look at his music and very quickly realize that his aesthetic is one that is an accurate representation of the life and peoples of this continent. His opera-oratorio El Nino is a setting of the Christmas story, but the characters are Hispanics. In the Death of Klinghoffer, Adams tells the story of an American Jew who is murdered by Palestinian terrorists. Finally, the Pulitzer Prize winning composition entitled "On the Transmigration of Souls" is intended as a solemn memorial to the lives lost that day, of which were represented people from numerous ethnicities, including many countries in South America.
This designation of John Adams being an American Composer is not intended by any means to be a simple designation of his geographical location, or even that he has written music which tells the stories of the different nationalities on both American continents. Instead, it is meant to be a special designation, for in this music, people of the Americas, not just residents of the USA, can relate to his music.
Adams is a prolific reader, reading huge quantities of material daily. In addition to this, he has a career as a guest conductor traveling around the world (During the process of composing El Nino, Adams underwent the task of learning Spanish in order to successfully composed the work, a feat which very few other composers who reside within the USA could make the claim to having done.) When not travelling abroad, he composes in a cabin in seclusion on his Californian property.
His life story is one that points toward an approach that is more cosmopolitan than regional. He was born and educated on the east coast of the USA, but after having completed his training at Harvard, Adams headed west to California, and has remained a resident of that state since his move. Already apparent should be the dramatic change in the artistic atmosphere. Adams left the academic environment of the eastern universities and conservatories and settled in an area heavily influenced by hollywood and the pop environment.
Adams lives primarily on commissions, and has distinguished himself as being the only American composer able to not only receive frequent commissions from the New York Philharmonic and the London Symphony, but also holds a significant distinction as being one of the very few living composers to see many of his orchestral works enter into the mainstream concert repertoire.
Adams began his career under the auspices of minimalism, but has moved away from it. His compositions are very much pop oriented in that he is concerned with accessibility to the audience, while at the same time does remain experimental.
Now, in order to verify these statements above, over the next few weeks I will explore each of the three afforementioned Adams compositions that embodies the pan-American spirit. I will work chronologically, starting with the Death of Klinghoffer, and the move on to El Nino, before concluding this study with On the Transmigration of Souls.
One needs to look at his music and very quickly realize that his aesthetic is one that is an accurate representation of the life and peoples of this continent. His opera-oratorio El Nino is a setting of the Christmas story, but the characters are Hispanics. In the Death of Klinghoffer, Adams tells the story of an American Jew who is murdered by Palestinian terrorists. Finally, the Pulitzer Prize winning composition entitled "On the Transmigration of Souls" is intended as a solemn memorial to the lives lost that day, of which were represented people from numerous ethnicities, including many countries in South America.
This designation of John Adams being an American Composer is not intended by any means to be a simple designation of his geographical location, or even that he has written music which tells the stories of the different nationalities on both American continents. Instead, it is meant to be a special designation, for in this music, people of the Americas, not just residents of the USA, can relate to his music.
Adams is a prolific reader, reading huge quantities of material daily. In addition to this, he has a career as a guest conductor traveling around the world (During the process of composing El Nino, Adams underwent the task of learning Spanish in order to successfully composed the work, a feat which very few other composers who reside within the USA could make the claim to having done.) When not travelling abroad, he composes in a cabin in seclusion on his Californian property.
His life story is one that points toward an approach that is more cosmopolitan than regional. He was born and educated on the east coast of the USA, but after having completed his training at Harvard, Adams headed west to California, and has remained a resident of that state since his move. Already apparent should be the dramatic change in the artistic atmosphere. Adams left the academic environment of the eastern universities and conservatories and settled in an area heavily influenced by hollywood and the pop environment.
Adams lives primarily on commissions, and has distinguished himself as being the only American composer able to not only receive frequent commissions from the New York Philharmonic and the London Symphony, but also holds a significant distinction as being one of the very few living composers to see many of his orchestral works enter into the mainstream concert repertoire.
Adams began his career under the auspices of minimalism, but has moved away from it. His compositions are very much pop oriented in that he is concerned with accessibility to the audience, while at the same time does remain experimental.
Now, in order to verify these statements above, over the next few weeks I will explore each of the three afforementioned Adams compositions that embodies the pan-American spirit. I will work chronologically, starting with the Death of Klinghoffer, and the move on to El Nino, before concluding this study with On the Transmigration of Souls.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
For a change of pace, I thought I might compose a comparatively pleasant read, by not assaulting the words of a reading, but instead engaging it with even a small amount of sympathy. I know, I know, one feels the need to jump up and check a window, to ensure that human existence is not crashing down about our ears, but in fact, I found the Meyer / Zimmermann edition upon Varese to be a useful and fascinating tome, elephantine though it may be.
Full disclosure: I have not read it in its entirety, yet anyway, but have read a few of the articles whose title theses intrigued, and associations with, plus thoughts upon, Edgard Varese, were invoked. Of course, consideration of this volume, after having read Taruskin upon Varese, reminds me that some books exist only with which to do battle, and a punch or so ought to be thrown per invitation. Taruskin proclaims Varese to be American down to his toenails, and that his extant output can only be a product of his newfound American loyalties. To this I say, phoee! Varese came to America during the years around the Great War, and the artistic culture of Europe by that time was seized by revolutions in all the arts. Artistic radicalism, such as Dada, arrived on the boat to Ellis Island about the same time that Varese did, both were European imports and equivalent in their fully-formed nature by then. Varese did produce his works of reknown upon arrival in America, but his last European works remain unheard, and nobody can claim knowledge of their radicalism or lack thereof. In America, Varese did not thrive, but in fact starved, since American audiences were in no way prepared to countenance his music in the day.
Varese' quarter-century compositional silence is legendary, but the Meyer / Zimmermann book propose sundry activities that kept Varese from the composition table during those years: Ill health, a seven-year stint in Paris that produced concerts of his work and the completion of Ionisation, but less than hoped, and significantly, a good number of years spent attempting the premiere of a huge work, Espace, which fell to shreds only by the 1940s. Of course, the standard reasons for his silence are valid as well: his discouragement at the poor reception of his published works, and his pause in his work in anticipation of new instruments.
The 1927-1933 time in Paris makes for an interesting meditation. There, Varese met Leon Theremin, and was introduced to the first electronic instrument. Varese loved it, and wrote it into his first post-Paris (and last pre-silence) work, Ecuatorial. One cannot help but wonder why Varese did not flash with enthusiasm for the next electronic instrument, the Ondes, as much. The most interesting fact to be found in the article concerning Varese and La Jeune France is that Andre Jolivet was a Varese student. Aha! thinks the reader, so Varese did have a student. And what a fine learner was Jolivet. I, myself, am quite fond of Jolivet's work, not least because he did indeed utilize the Ondes with enthusiasm. Of course to a comparison of the music of Varese and Jolivet seems a fool's errand: to detect even a scrap of the teacher's ethic on the student is a challenge to credibility.
The article hastens to point out that Varese left France three years before La Jeune France mounts its very first concert, so connection is forced, but one cannot help but wonder if Varese and another favorite of myself, Olivier Messiaen, ever conferred. To compare the music of the two seems a hopeless effort; Messiaen devoted every last not of his work to the greater glory of God, and Varese apparently found inspiration only from within. Also, Messiaen, who did write a theoretical text on his music, and taught a generation of younger composers, offers a scholarly body of work that largely escapes Varese. Messiaen's musical theories are well-defined, and a prepared listener can readily find his theories put into practice, while Varese' theories are conversational at best, and challenge the listener to detect them.
Nonetheless, some curious parallels between the two composers can be noted. First, Messiaen, towards the end of his compositional career, favored the winds-and-percussion ensembles that Varese liked, so much so that Messiaen's ensembles of the 1960s to 1980s approach identicality to those of Varese. Also, Messiaen favored writing pieces that displayed One Big Idea at a time, so that the listener is not confused by parallel elaborations, but knows where he is at at any given moment in the work. So too does Varese' music often follow that ethic. Since music is a strictly temporal artform, Varese learned early on that the audial analogy to multiple geometric shapes in space must entail some sequencing over time. To play your four sound objects at exactly the same time is to offer the listener a large lump of mud. Varese understood that to effect his geometric analogy he had to establish his motives serially, and hence they sound, in that respect, rather closer to the music of Messiaen.
Did Varese ever hear any Messiaen? The Meyer / Zimmermann book wondered aloud whether he may have been in attendance when Messiaen's early orchestral work Les Offrandes Oubliees was premiered, though Messiaen was still in a neo-Debussy mood at this time, which Varese would have by then been well beyond theoretically, so what little Messiaen Varese would have heard would not have appealed. Did Messiaen ever hear Varese? Here the answer would likely be "yes, indeed". In the quarter-century by which Messiaen survived Varese, he must have had numerous opportunities to hear the crazy Frenchman-cum-American, and could not help but not the superficial resemblance of many of their two works. Little point in further inquiry, since they are both dead.
Full disclosure: I have not read it in its entirety, yet anyway, but have read a few of the articles whose title theses intrigued, and associations with, plus thoughts upon, Edgard Varese, were invoked. Of course, consideration of this volume, after having read Taruskin upon Varese, reminds me that some books exist only with which to do battle, and a punch or so ought to be thrown per invitation. Taruskin proclaims Varese to be American down to his toenails, and that his extant output can only be a product of his newfound American loyalties. To this I say, phoee! Varese came to America during the years around the Great War, and the artistic culture of Europe by that time was seized by revolutions in all the arts. Artistic radicalism, such as Dada, arrived on the boat to Ellis Island about the same time that Varese did, both were European imports and equivalent in their fully-formed nature by then. Varese did produce his works of reknown upon arrival in America, but his last European works remain unheard, and nobody can claim knowledge of their radicalism or lack thereof. In America, Varese did not thrive, but in fact starved, since American audiences were in no way prepared to countenance his music in the day.
Varese' quarter-century compositional silence is legendary, but the Meyer / Zimmermann book propose sundry activities that kept Varese from the composition table during those years: Ill health, a seven-year stint in Paris that produced concerts of his work and the completion of Ionisation, but less than hoped, and significantly, a good number of years spent attempting the premiere of a huge work, Espace, which fell to shreds only by the 1940s. Of course, the standard reasons for his silence are valid as well: his discouragement at the poor reception of his published works, and his pause in his work in anticipation of new instruments.
The 1927-1933 time in Paris makes for an interesting meditation. There, Varese met Leon Theremin, and was introduced to the first electronic instrument. Varese loved it, and wrote it into his first post-Paris (and last pre-silence) work, Ecuatorial. One cannot help but wonder why Varese did not flash with enthusiasm for the next electronic instrument, the Ondes, as much. The most interesting fact to be found in the article concerning Varese and La Jeune France is that Andre Jolivet was a Varese student. Aha! thinks the reader, so Varese did have a student. And what a fine learner was Jolivet. I, myself, am quite fond of Jolivet's work, not least because he did indeed utilize the Ondes with enthusiasm. Of course to a comparison of the music of Varese and Jolivet seems a fool's errand: to detect even a scrap of the teacher's ethic on the student is a challenge to credibility.
The article hastens to point out that Varese left France three years before La Jeune France mounts its very first concert, so connection is forced, but one cannot help but wonder if Varese and another favorite of myself, Olivier Messiaen, ever conferred. To compare the music of the two seems a hopeless effort; Messiaen devoted every last not of his work to the greater glory of God, and Varese apparently found inspiration only from within. Also, Messiaen, who did write a theoretical text on his music, and taught a generation of younger composers, offers a scholarly body of work that largely escapes Varese. Messiaen's musical theories are well-defined, and a prepared listener can readily find his theories put into practice, while Varese' theories are conversational at best, and challenge the listener to detect them.
Nonetheless, some curious parallels between the two composers can be noted. First, Messiaen, towards the end of his compositional career, favored the winds-and-percussion ensembles that Varese liked, so much so that Messiaen's ensembles of the 1960s to 1980s approach identicality to those of Varese. Also, Messiaen favored writing pieces that displayed One Big Idea at a time, so that the listener is not confused by parallel elaborations, but knows where he is at at any given moment in the work. So too does Varese' music often follow that ethic. Since music is a strictly temporal artform, Varese learned early on that the audial analogy to multiple geometric shapes in space must entail some sequencing over time. To play your four sound objects at exactly the same time is to offer the listener a large lump of mud. Varese understood that to effect his geometric analogy he had to establish his motives serially, and hence they sound, in that respect, rather closer to the music of Messiaen.
Did Varese ever hear any Messiaen? The Meyer / Zimmermann book wondered aloud whether he may have been in attendance when Messiaen's early orchestral work Les Offrandes Oubliees was premiered, though Messiaen was still in a neo-Debussy mood at this time, which Varese would have by then been well beyond theoretically, so what little Messiaen Varese would have heard would not have appealed. Did Messiaen ever hear Varese? Here the answer would likely be "yes, indeed". In the quarter-century by which Messiaen survived Varese, he must have had numerous opportunities to hear the crazy Frenchman-cum-American, and could not help but not the superficial resemblance of many of their two works. Little point in further inquiry, since they are both dead.
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