Back to Our Origins

In my third blog post, "Early Polyphony, Architecture and Minimalism", I discussed similarities between the music of Steve Reich and Perotin. The idea that two composers living a millenium apart would have striking similarities in their music might be shocking. However, when listening to Reich I can't help but think of Perotin. It is as though the spirit of Reich's compositions is a twentieth century reincarnation of of the sounds produced at Notre Dame in the thirteenth century.

I was reminded of Perotin while listening to Reich's Come Out (1966). This tape piece was commissioned as a response to the brutal beating of six African American boys in Harlem in 1964 (stevereich.com). Reich chose the voice of Daniel Hamm for this work. The excerpt of recording used is that of Hamm explaining the degree of his injuries. He says,

"I had to, like, open the bruise up and let some of the bruise blood come out to show
them.."

Reich loops the full quotation twice before repeating the phrase "come out to show them" for the remaining 12:45 minutes of the work. In this repetition, Reich lays a foundation similar to the chant used in Perotin's polyphony. Around the 1:05 mark it becomes obvious that the recorded segment is being gradually slowed on another track, creating a sense of imitative polyphony. This repetition slowly expands. As it does, many rhythmic combinations occur. The rhythm is felt by three plosive consonants in Hamm's voice- the [k] sound in "come", the [t] sound in "out" and "to", and the [sh] sound in "show". While the meaning of these words have special significance, I think Reich surely chose this clip for its percussive consonants as well.

At 2:52, a third and/or fourth (its hard to tell) loop is introduced creating a sense of canon. A similarity can be drawn here to the three and four part voice texture used in Perotin's organum. At 8:31, the pieces of recording are brought together forming a rhythmic pattern similar to that of a train engine. The words become harder to interpret, and the sound becomes ominous and somewhat unsettling. Perotin's music does not create the same unsettling feeling heard in Come Out, but it does have the atmospheric, hallucinatory qualities created in this work.

Maybe in the big scheme of things, music's journey is on a circular path.

Impressionism

The arrival of the twentieth century brought with it an abundance of new, distinct styles. For what seems like the first time in music history, composers chose the path of their liking to create their own unique sound. This independence led to an explosion of style in the story line of music history and included movements such as Expressionism, Exoticism, Impressionism, Primitivism, ism, ism, ism... The list could go on.

My favorite of these new "isms" originated in France at the end of the nineteenth century. Impressionism, as it is known today, deals with sensual beauty. It seeks to capture the immediate impression of a sudden glance. Because the eye does not retain distinct features such as line and form in a moment's glimpse, Impressionist art does not have sharp lines or defined forms. Each color and line flows freely into its neighbor, creating an inviting, flowing palette of color and sound on which the senses can feast. Below are two works of Claude Monet, Impression: Sunrise (1872) and San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk (1912). Notice the melding of colors, the unfocused lines and the glimpse of consciousness that Monet communicates.

Similar impressionist effects were created in the music of Claude Debussy. Just as Monet created ambiguity with blurred lines and merging colors, Debussy puts little emphasis on the form of his compositions. Of higher importance in his music is the timbre of instruments and the awakening of colors through harmonic language. In his Prelude to "The Afternoon of a Faun", Debussy employs glimpses of the whole tone scale to create a cloudy sensation. The colors of the flute and harp seem to go hand in hand with the colors of Monet's works shown above. Classical era musicians who glorified the use of form would have been lost in their search for structure upon hearing this work.

I've included two renditions of the piece below. The first is the original Debussy score. The second is a jazz/funk influenced version. If for no other reason, this shows a glimpse into the explosion of genres that were taking shape at the beginning of the twentieth century.

Old vs. New

I think it is important when studying history to pause and consider the story... How have things changed? What has stayed the same? Who are the significant figures? etc. In doing so, one is able to notice common threads in an ever changing story. I'd love to give a short lesson, but that would make for an oversized blog post. However, one aspect that remains inevitable in history is change. Musicians in the second half of the nineteenth century had a hard time agreeing on exactly what kinds of change music should be making.



One argument was that music should continue in the same traditions of the past century, glorifying form and employing  a conservative use of tonality. Today, these composers are known as the Late Romantics, and include names such as Brahms and Bruckner. The other voices, known as Post Romantics, included Wagner and Liszt. This group pushed for "the music of the future" which freed itself from formal structure and strict tonality. The different aims of these two school produced two distinct sounds. Below are two examples of music from the second half of the nineteenth century. The fourth movement from Brahms' Symphony No. 4 in E minor is emblematic of the Late Romantics. Wagner's Prelude to Act I of  of his opera Tristan und Isolde represents the ideals of the Post Romantic school. Listen and take note of the differences you hear. What about the Brahms says, "We are holding onto the past!"? What do you hear in the Wagner that announces "the music of the future"?



Without getting into the score and just using my ears, I notice these differences:

• The Brahms remains rooted in tonality while the Wagner floats between different tonal realms. 
• The sense of rhythm is strong in the Brahms. Wagner's Prelude does not have an easy to follow downbeat. 
• The mood of both works are similar, but the Wagner provokes deeper emotions. 
• Maybe its because I know the pieces, but Wagner's work sounds more "futuristic" than Brahms'.

Regardless of difference in taste and ideals, both the Post and Late Romantics knew change was inevitable in their beloved music. While it is hard for me to pick a side in this debate, i found Liszt's words to ring true that, 

"art cannot escape the necessary evolution that belongs to all that Time produces. Its (Art's) life principle, like that of humankind, remains, like the life principle of Nature, inherent in certain forms only for a period of time, and it passes from one to another in a constant process of change and drives people to create new ones to the same extent that they abandon those that have decayed and past their prime"

If they only knew what was about to come.

Romanticism

In 1848, political uprisings occurred across Europe. As the public became empowered by a new sense of individualism, they demanded their voices be heard. By doing so, the rigid political systems in existence were challenged and expanded. A similar phenomenon occurred in the arts. As artists became aware of their individualism, they challenged the formal structures developed by classicism. The desire for balance, order and symmetry had been fulfilled. Artists began turning inward. By tapping into deep emotions and personal thoughts, artists poured forth a wellspring of rich, deep-rooted work. The newfound voice of the Romantic era could not be detained by the bars of classicism.

Romantic art, with its deep emotion, commonly deals with themes such as love, nature, death, and the supernatural. Although these topics appear in previous eras, Romantics conveyed these themes in a new, more intense manner. An example of this Romantic approach to music can be found in Beethoven's Piano Sonata in C minor, op. 13, mvt. 1. I chose this piece as an example for a couple of reasons:

1) The genre- In my last post, I wrote about Mozart's Piano Sonata in F major, K. 332. By looking at another piano sonata, it will be easier to draw parallels.

2) The date of composition- Beethoven composed this sonata between 1797-98, Mozart composed his between 1781-83. Although they are close in age, fifteen years allowed for much change in the development of the piano sonata.

Beethoven's sonata follows the outline of sonata form, but takes advantage of the flexibility more so than Mozart. Beethoven shapes the form to allow his emotions more freedom. One characteristic of Romantic music found in this sonata is the juxtaposition of extremes. In the first six measures, Beethoven takes the listener from piano to fortissimo volumes, with sforzandos thrown in between. In the Mozart, the dynamic contrasts are separated by section. This use of dynamic extremes is used throughout the first movement of the C minor sonata.

The Beethoven seems to have an emotional narrative, or "voice" that speaks throughout the piece. This idea is described in the Norton Anthology as "grief vs. determination". One can hear the grief and pain in the introduction (m. 1-10). This emotion is countered by a drive to overcome the grief at the outset of the first theme (m. 11). While Mozart's sonata involves emotional contrasts, it is more difficult to identify a "voice" or emotional narrative.

Beautiful Simplicity

With the dawn of the Enlightenment, artists began to seek balance and form in their works. The inspiration was rooted in the spirit of Graeco-Roman art, which had become a topic of interest among artists due to archeological discoveries. We see this influence in visual art, particularly in the work of Jacques Louis David. His painting Oath of the Horatii  shows the ideal balance, order and simplicity sought by many artists in the mid-18th century.

As in visual art, music of this period was also influenced by a desire for symmetry and order. For centuries, music was able to take shape in accordance to the text which it accompanied. However, with the invention of new and more advanced instruments composers began writing more purely instrumental music. With a demand for structure and form, but no text to give shape to instrumental works, a new means of organization was needed. This need gave rise to the sonata form.

In its broadest terms, sonata form can be described as the harmonic movement from tonic ( I ) to dominant ( V ) and back to tonic. This tonal map helps to organize the different themes definitive of sonata form (primary theme, transition, secondary theme, and closing). While sonata form has a definite structure, its limitations are minimal. This form satisfied the appetite for order, while allowing composers to display their creative genius. A display of this creative genius can be found in Mozart's Piano Sonata in F major, K. 332. Mozart makes use of sonata form in the first movement of this work for solo piano.

Taking a broad look at this opening movement, we see the tonal passage of tonic-dominant-tonic. The piece starts in F major, begins transitioning toward the dominant (where it arrives in m.41) and then develops (m. 94-133) back to the tonic. Taking a closer look at the composition reveals idiosyncrasies that show Mozart's skill. He begins the work in a simple fashion- a singable melody placed on top of an Alberti bass harmonic progression. The playful energy continues as Mozart mimics natural horns as they call for the hunt (m.12-14). Mozart plays with the emotions of his listeners by taking a sharp turn into a minor tonality, using dissonances and fully diminished chords. All of this in twenty two measures. A further investigation would give light to more of the genius decisions made by the composer, but it does not take a sharp eye to notice how Mozart capitalizes on the flexible structure of sonata form to demonstrate his compositional ability.

Bach

Most musicians have landmark memories of experiences that shaped them as artists or reaffirmed their love for music making. Bookmarked in the pages of my musical memories are an assortment of these experiences. One that rises above others is my encounter with J.S. Bach's monumental
B-minor Mass. Many hours of work went into preparing this piece for performance. I had never encountered a work that challenged me as a singer like this one did. By breaking down each vocal melisma and minute detail, I found myself face to face with the mental genius of a composer who (I believe) rises above any other on the heavily debated frontier of Western Music History.

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) bridges the divide from the Baroque to the Classical era. His music, written primarily for practical purposes, encompasses nearly every genre of music known in his day. While contemporary composers such as G.F. Handel travelled extensively through Europe sharing their music, Bach never ventured beyond his homeland of Germany. Although he is undoubtedly a figurehead among classical composers, Bach's music did not originally enjoy the prominent status it does today. Many saw his work as outdated and excessive. Seaton includes in his text the account of Johann Adolph Scheibe who refers to Bach's music as "impossible" to perform and, despite "tedious work and extraordinary effort" applied in composition, his efforts are "in vain, since it strives against nature".

While I can empathize with Schiebe on his use of "impossible" (performing Bach is no walk in the park), I find it a bit extreme to to label such music as "against nature". Of course, the musical appetites of Bach's contemporaries were craving the structure and 'natural' form of the approaching Classical era, but in doing so were missing the main course served by Bach himself!

One compositional technique found in many of Bach's works is the fugue. The Organ Prelude and Fugue in A minor, BWV 543 is a prime example of the composer's genius use of this technique. The subject of this four-voice fugue is a five measure phrase consisting of 55 different pitches. Needless to say, his subjects were often melismatic and full of difficult fingerings (and footings) for the performer. I found this video of organist Jay Ju performing the Prelude and Fugue. The fugue begins at 3:00 minutes and the final subject is introduced at 4:00 minutes. Notice the coordination and difficulty of the passagework.

Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 62, a sacred cantata composed in 1724 shows Bach's genius in the realm of vocal writing. More stunning than the composition itself is the fact that he composed a new cantata weekly for two of the four churches in Leipzig where he served as music director. In addition, Bach's cantatas use various styles and genres between movements. This particular cantata includes a Lutheran chorale, chorale motet, Italian opera, cantata, and concerto, and French dance (Burkholder). I particularly like Masaaki Suzuki and the Bach Collegium Japan's recording for the color of tone and the quicker tempo that seems to embody the anticipation of Advent- this cantata was performed on the first Sunday of the liturgical season.



Bach's music, although confusing and impossible to some, is what I consider genius. After reading the Scheibe comment, I was reminded of a quote from Iris Murdoch I came across this past summer. Perhaps if Mr. Scheibe was alive today I would respond to his critique with Murdoch's words that, "form in art is properly the simulation of the self-contained aimlessness of the universe. The best art melds the minute and absolutely random detail of the world together with a sense of unity and form".

Bach's style may not have fit the rigid form of the dawning Classical era, but I'm certain that the aimless universe welcomes it with open arms.

Affection

In my last blog post I wrote about how music had changed from the 9^th through the 16^th centuries. Music began its history in the church, slowly changing by the incorporation of rhythmic modes and polyphony. As it expanded, music began measuring itself in terms of time. We then see its departure away from symbolisms in rhythm and the use of plainchant as a foundation, toward a new appreciation for text. Music clothes itself in language, giving rise to the practice of text painting. As mannerisms arose in this practice, notably in the music of Gesualdo, music began to look for new meaning. The dawn of the 17^th century and its new philosophy of rationalism enabled music find its new mantra- affect. While composers from the late 15^th through 16^th centuries sought to mimic the text of their music, 17^th century convention sought to penetrate further into the mind of the listener. Instead of painting a picture with sound, this new music aimed to give rise to certain emotions and kindle a particular mindset. Music’s purpose was to make the listener feel a certain way. To create this experience, composers had to look beyond poetic imagery of texts and into the manner in which the speaker of the poem might deliver it. Or, as Monteverdi said himself, “make the words the mistress of the harmony and not its servant”.

“When I am Laid in Earth” from Henry Purcell’s opera Dido and Aeneas is a definitive example of this new kind of music. By using a chromatically descending ostinato as the foundation, Purcell constructs a hauntingly beautiful melody for soprano that awakens deep emotions. In the recitative particularly, his use of chromatics in the vocal line pierces the ears of listeners, communicating the despair experienced by Dido. This occurs in m. 2 (darkness) and m. 6 (death). I am particularly drawn to Lorraine Hunt Lieberson’s recording of this aria. Her tone, while clear and light, carries a weight of honesty and depth that illicit despair. She does a brilliant job cultivating the affect Purcell and other 17^th century composers strived for in their music.