My dear readers,
I know this post is late, but it'll also be a bit short -- forgive me, and I promise more and better soon!
All Levels:
First, let Mr. Hopkins read this to you:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpydvqTm0hI
I recommend just closing your eyes and listening the first time.
Then, for the visual learners, read the poem here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/175908
John Corigliano's setting of the poem appears several places on YouTube, but this one seems to work well:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tp7yyn1xcY (Part 1)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhEnCb0LJeU (Part 2)
Listen to the whole piece (about 20 minutes total).
Derive the form (I have my own opinion about it....I'd love to know yours!). How does this reflect the form and/or content of the poem?
Figure out what's going on metrically...find the big beat, and then figure out what's up with the subdivisions.
Sing the opening instrumental theme, and see if you can apply some solfege to it.
Sing the opening vocal theme (soprano part), and see if you can apply some solfege to that.
At the end of the piece, something very interesting happens to the opening vocal theme -- it's sung in unison by the whole choir at "Oh, as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means," but it's altered -- how would you describe this alteration?
Transcribe anything you'd like....it's challenging, so take a small bite and see what you can do.
That's it this time...but please enjoy! Time has its own hold on me at the moment, which I'm hoping it will loosen soon!
Showing posts with label large works. Show all posts
Showing posts with label large works. Show all posts
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The Morning Star
Greetings, dear solfeggists!
I'm safely through my last first week of classes as a graduate student, and the part about safe is more important to me than usual. Why? Well, there's been a little weirdness afoot in my life, and I think I've had an indirect hand in it, but I'm not entirely sure how to reverse it....or if I want to.
You see, for much of the holiday break, there was a fair amount of hand-wringing going on around my house about the future. Theoretically, I only have to start worrying about the future in earnest if I really pull myself together and graduate like I'm planning to, so I could put those worries off. However, I've reached that point of needing to graduate for the sake of my sanity...a hundred miles of driving for every school day simply can't continue indefinitely. So, over break I realized that means I need a plan, and I need it sort of immediately, and I drove myself up the wall for a week or so worrying about what the plan was going to entail. Then, once I got good and exhausted from that, I changed my tune. Nobody can control the future -- it'll be what it'll be, and I can get myself as ready as I can be, but I can't control it. I can look for jobs, apply for jobs, make my CV look like a million bucks, ask everyone I've ever met for letters of recommendation, and put together the best conducting video known to humankind, and I still won't be able to control the future. So, I started saying to the Universe:
Look....I'm throwing myself on your mercy. I'm scared, but here we go.
And, after the last week, I'm not sure I can recommend this course of action if what you want is peace of mind, but I can definitely recommend it if you're looking for some excitement. Of course, there's no way to say for certain that my change in perspective has caused any of this, but suddenly things are moving in quite an unusual way, quite an unexpected way, and I'm not comfortable with it, but I'm too curious about it to dig in my heels. I still can't control the future, and the future is now looking a lot more open than I expected just a few weeks ago. For the first time in a long time, it looks like an adventure instead of a series of bills I have to figure out how to pay or deadlines I have to meet. And really, it only took a week of strangeness, just a few odd incidents to shake me into this renewed perspective. I don't know what's going to happen. I know a few things have started to happen that I didn't expect, and if they can blindside me like that, just about anything else could follow. I'm only writing my own lines in this script, and there's no way of knowing for sure what anyone else will do or say or what their timing will be like. So, we have to improvise, roll with the punches, keep the center of gravity low...and realize that we are at the mercy of a lot of forces we don't control or fully understand.
In the midst of all of this, we can be especially grateful that we are musicians. Why? Well, we are bearers of a tradition that has bequeathed us the best kind of toolkit for dealing with chaos and unpredictability: beauty, and the knowledge that it is fleeting.
All Levels:
I can't think of a better example of this than Bach, a musical Rumpelstiltskin par excellence....the man not only knew how to seize a moment, he could spin a simple tune like this one (about the beauty of the morning star) into a masterpiece like no one else:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV001-V&P.pdf
Begin with the chorale at the end of the piece (p. 41). Sing through each part in solfa, paying particular attention to the soprano melody. Notice the form of the tune (you must take the repeat). If you're a rising level 3, you may recognize it from the duet in Cantata 37 from a few weeks back.
Memorize the melody....believe me, it's worth keeping in your mental library.
Now, go back to the beginning of the piece and sing the soprano part of the whole piece. Does it look/sound familiar? How does this part function in relationship to the other three voice parts, both in terms of form and texture? Do the parts come together homophonically at any point? If so, why do you think it happens there? You may want to refer to the text translation in order to answer that last question.
Tackle as many of the other voice parts in the opening movement as you feel able to deal with. There is definitely some flirting with other key areas going on, but Bach doesn't stray too far.....why do you think that is?
If you found all of that reasonably easy, do a Roman numeral analysis of the final chorale and compare it to the key areas visited/referenced in the opening movement. Is there any correspondence?
My friends, embrace the beauty around you -- in the morning star, in the stark beauty of winter, in your lives and the lives of other people. We don't know what's going to happen. But, we have what we have right now.
I'm safely through my last first week of classes as a graduate student, and the part about safe is more important to me than usual. Why? Well, there's been a little weirdness afoot in my life, and I think I've had an indirect hand in it, but I'm not entirely sure how to reverse it....or if I want to.
You see, for much of the holiday break, there was a fair amount of hand-wringing going on around my house about the future. Theoretically, I only have to start worrying about the future in earnest if I really pull myself together and graduate like I'm planning to, so I could put those worries off. However, I've reached that point of needing to graduate for the sake of my sanity...a hundred miles of driving for every school day simply can't continue indefinitely. So, over break I realized that means I need a plan, and I need it sort of immediately, and I drove myself up the wall for a week or so worrying about what the plan was going to entail. Then, once I got good and exhausted from that, I changed my tune. Nobody can control the future -- it'll be what it'll be, and I can get myself as ready as I can be, but I can't control it. I can look for jobs, apply for jobs, make my CV look like a million bucks, ask everyone I've ever met for letters of recommendation, and put together the best conducting video known to humankind, and I still won't be able to control the future. So, I started saying to the Universe:
Look....I'm throwing myself on your mercy. I'm scared, but here we go.
And, after the last week, I'm not sure I can recommend this course of action if what you want is peace of mind, but I can definitely recommend it if you're looking for some excitement. Of course, there's no way to say for certain that my change in perspective has caused any of this, but suddenly things are moving in quite an unusual way, quite an unexpected way, and I'm not comfortable with it, but I'm too curious about it to dig in my heels. I still can't control the future, and the future is now looking a lot more open than I expected just a few weeks ago. For the first time in a long time, it looks like an adventure instead of a series of bills I have to figure out how to pay or deadlines I have to meet. And really, it only took a week of strangeness, just a few odd incidents to shake me into this renewed perspective. I don't know what's going to happen. I know a few things have started to happen that I didn't expect, and if they can blindside me like that, just about anything else could follow. I'm only writing my own lines in this script, and there's no way of knowing for sure what anyone else will do or say or what their timing will be like. So, we have to improvise, roll with the punches, keep the center of gravity low...and realize that we are at the mercy of a lot of forces we don't control or fully understand.
In the midst of all of this, we can be especially grateful that we are musicians. Why? Well, we are bearers of a tradition that has bequeathed us the best kind of toolkit for dealing with chaos and unpredictability: beauty, and the knowledge that it is fleeting.
All Levels:
I can't think of a better example of this than Bach, a musical Rumpelstiltskin par excellence....the man not only knew how to seize a moment, he could spin a simple tune like this one (about the beauty of the morning star) into a masterpiece like no one else:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV001-V&P.pdf
Begin with the chorale at the end of the piece (p. 41). Sing through each part in solfa, paying particular attention to the soprano melody. Notice the form of the tune (you must take the repeat). If you're a rising level 3, you may recognize it from the duet in Cantata 37 from a few weeks back.
Memorize the melody....believe me, it's worth keeping in your mental library.
Now, go back to the beginning of the piece and sing the soprano part of the whole piece. Does it look/sound familiar? How does this part function in relationship to the other three voice parts, both in terms of form and texture? Do the parts come together homophonically at any point? If so, why do you think it happens there? You may want to refer to the text translation in order to answer that last question.
Tackle as many of the other voice parts in the opening movement as you feel able to deal with. There is definitely some flirting with other key areas going on, but Bach doesn't stray too far.....why do you think that is?
If you found all of that reasonably easy, do a Roman numeral analysis of the final chorale and compare it to the key areas visited/referenced in the opening movement. Is there any correspondence?
My friends, embrace the beauty around you -- in the morning star, in the stark beauty of winter, in your lives and the lives of other people. We don't know what's going to happen. But, we have what we have right now.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Bit by bit
Greetings!
It's the first post of 2012, my friends, and I've proclaimed this the year of "One _______ at a time." As in:
Q. How do you eat an elephant?
A. One bite at a time.
Q. How do you finish a doctorate?
A. One project at a time.
Q. How do you improve your musicianship?
A. One practice session at a time.
There's more, but you get the picture. You see, January has felt pretty heavy so far, in part because I'm such a future-tripper. You can probably guess what future-tripping is (I'm borrowing the term from a friend of mine, who wisely advises against it....against future tripping, that is) -- living in some imagined reality that hasn't happened yet and is based on all manner of predictions, assumptions, words we've put in other people's mouths in imagined conversations that have yet to take place, etc. When I choose to live in this kind of projected reality (a choice I usually don't realize I've made right away), I take on burdens that aren't yet mine to carry...which frequently results in mental exhaustion.
Just to be clear, I don't mean that planning ahead is a bad idea, nor do I think that flying by the seat of one's pants (under the supposed banner of "living in the moment") is the way to reach one's goals. I believe in long-range planning, in setting out a course and following through. But, while looking toward the future is one thing, a good thing, living in it rather than the present is a one-way ticket to stress and frustration. We are best equipped to move toward the future when we live in the present. This isn't easy, and I haven't met many people who can do this consistently without ongoing reminders. I know I can't. I generally have to wear myself to a frazzle with worry before I realize why everything seems so hard -- and it's usually because I'm trying to do everything at once and worry about everything at once instead of taking it one day and one project at a time.
The applications to solfa are pretty obvious. In fact, this philosophy is a big part of the motivation behind this blog: nobody undergoes a total transformation of their musical abilities in a three-week summer session, no matter how intense. So, I encourage you to work incrementally and consistently throughout the year, and if you do it, you'll get better. I don't know this because I can see the future. I know it because it happened to me, and I've watched it happen to others, bit by bit.
So, let's tackle a biggish piece of music and take it on a little at a time:
Rising Level 2's
Look at this piece:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
Scroll down to page 23 and look at the chorale.
First, look at the melody. Despite the key signature, I'd advise you to begin in D major. After the first fermata, A major should work well. Sing through the melody a phrase at a time, then all the way through. Sing it through a few times, until it starts to really feel like a melody to you.
Next, look at the bass line. Lest your eyes go buggy with looking at all the accidentals on the page, realize that D-sharps are "di" in the first phrase only, and "fi" thereafter. C-natural is "ma" & it only happens in that little chromatically descending passage. All the other accidentals are either for courtesy or a return to regularly scheduled programming. Sing it through a few times, until you can follow the melody line out of the corner of your eye while you sing it.
Alto and tenor are next on the agenda, whichever you'd rather sing first. The alto line is pretty challenging to begin in D, so experiment with A, and possibly also E minor (remembering to call the C-sharp "fi" if you sing in E minor). Notice all the non-harmonic tones Bach uses...in my opinion, their artful placement is really what separates an A+ four-voice part-writing assignment from truly beautiful music.
Once you get through all four voices, call up a friend and sing through two at a time. Or, sing one and play another. Or, if you'd really like to warm the cockles of my heart, get a quartet together and sing through all four parts together!
Rising Level 3's
You'll be working from the same piece, but you'll start on page 9.
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
First, the rhythm....you see, J.S. Bach sometimes used a kind of shorthand when notating complicated rhythms in compound meter. Sometimes this shorthand leaves some room for interpretation, and this piece has several incidences of that. With few exceptions (and I challenge you to find them), if you think of the dotted quarter as being the beat, but a beat that can sometimes be divided into two equal eighths instead of three, you'll be fine.
Next, look at one voice at a time -- it might be good to start with the one that sits most easily in your voice (octave exchanges are acceptable). Notice that both voices begin somewhat simply and become more elaborate as the piece continues. I stay in D major the whole time for both voices.
Once you have a handle on one voice, switch to the other. If you run into a strange rhythmic snag, see if you can use the other voice to help you decide what to do.
Notice the patterns Bach used in the melismas....they're a lot less predictable than Handel, are they not? It's tricky to get them to sit in the voice....I'm in the middle of learning that the hard way (I'm singing the soprano part in a concert on Jan. 21...say a little prayer for me!).
Rising Level 4's
You, too, will be drinking at Bach's musical font, but you'll start with the opening movement -- the choral bits begin on p. 2.
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
Because you all are advanced, I'll leave the key changes up to you.
Begin with the bass voice, and only go as far as Rehearsal B to start with. Then, look at it in relation to the tenor, alto, and soprano voices. Is this a strict fugue? Why or why not?
Cover the ground from Rehearsal B to C next, beginning with the soprano voice this time, and going through the same comparative process.
Finally, work from letter C to the end, again using comparison as you go to help you navigate each line with information from the other lines.
If you like, use the alto/soprano duet at Rehearsal C as a sing/play, and if you had fun with that, do the same with the tenor/bass duet that follows.
Enjoy, my friends, and remember to take it one little bit at a time!
It's the first post of 2012, my friends, and I've proclaimed this the year of "One _______ at a time." As in:
Q. How do you eat an elephant?
A. One bite at a time.
Q. How do you finish a doctorate?
A. One project at a time.
Q. How do you improve your musicianship?
A. One practice session at a time.
There's more, but you get the picture. You see, January has felt pretty heavy so far, in part because I'm such a future-tripper. You can probably guess what future-tripping is (I'm borrowing the term from a friend of mine, who wisely advises against it....against future tripping, that is) -- living in some imagined reality that hasn't happened yet and is based on all manner of predictions, assumptions, words we've put in other people's mouths in imagined conversations that have yet to take place, etc. When I choose to live in this kind of projected reality (a choice I usually don't realize I've made right away), I take on burdens that aren't yet mine to carry...which frequently results in mental exhaustion.
Just to be clear, I don't mean that planning ahead is a bad idea, nor do I think that flying by the seat of one's pants (under the supposed banner of "living in the moment") is the way to reach one's goals. I believe in long-range planning, in setting out a course and following through. But, while looking toward the future is one thing, a good thing, living in it rather than the present is a one-way ticket to stress and frustration. We are best equipped to move toward the future when we live in the present. This isn't easy, and I haven't met many people who can do this consistently without ongoing reminders. I know I can't. I generally have to wear myself to a frazzle with worry before I realize why everything seems so hard -- and it's usually because I'm trying to do everything at once and worry about everything at once instead of taking it one day and one project at a time.
The applications to solfa are pretty obvious. In fact, this philosophy is a big part of the motivation behind this blog: nobody undergoes a total transformation of their musical abilities in a three-week summer session, no matter how intense. So, I encourage you to work incrementally and consistently throughout the year, and if you do it, you'll get better. I don't know this because I can see the future. I know it because it happened to me, and I've watched it happen to others, bit by bit.
So, let's tackle a biggish piece of music and take it on a little at a time:
Rising Level 2's
Look at this piece:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
Scroll down to page 23 and look at the chorale.
First, look at the melody. Despite the key signature, I'd advise you to begin in D major. After the first fermata, A major should work well. Sing through the melody a phrase at a time, then all the way through. Sing it through a few times, until it starts to really feel like a melody to you.
Next, look at the bass line. Lest your eyes go buggy with looking at all the accidentals on the page, realize that D-sharps are "di" in the first phrase only, and "fi" thereafter. C-natural is "ma" & it only happens in that little chromatically descending passage. All the other accidentals are either for courtesy or a return to regularly scheduled programming. Sing it through a few times, until you can follow the melody line out of the corner of your eye while you sing it.
Alto and tenor are next on the agenda, whichever you'd rather sing first. The alto line is pretty challenging to begin in D, so experiment with A, and possibly also E minor (remembering to call the C-sharp "fi" if you sing in E minor). Notice all the non-harmonic tones Bach uses...in my opinion, their artful placement is really what separates an A+ four-voice part-writing assignment from truly beautiful music.
Once you get through all four voices, call up a friend and sing through two at a time. Or, sing one and play another. Or, if you'd really like to warm the cockles of my heart, get a quartet together and sing through all four parts together!
Rising Level 3's
You'll be working from the same piece, but you'll start on page 9.
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
First, the rhythm....you see, J.S. Bach sometimes used a kind of shorthand when notating complicated rhythms in compound meter. Sometimes this shorthand leaves some room for interpretation, and this piece has several incidences of that. With few exceptions (and I challenge you to find them), if you think of the dotted quarter as being the beat, but a beat that can sometimes be divided into two equal eighths instead of three, you'll be fine.
Next, look at one voice at a time -- it might be good to start with the one that sits most easily in your voice (octave exchanges are acceptable). Notice that both voices begin somewhat simply and become more elaborate as the piece continues. I stay in D major the whole time for both voices.
Once you have a handle on one voice, switch to the other. If you run into a strange rhythmic snag, see if you can use the other voice to help you decide what to do.
Notice the patterns Bach used in the melismas....they're a lot less predictable than Handel, are they not? It's tricky to get them to sit in the voice....I'm in the middle of learning that the hard way (I'm singing the soprano part in a concert on Jan. 21...say a little prayer for me!).
Rising Level 4's
You, too, will be drinking at Bach's musical font, but you'll start with the opening movement -- the choral bits begin on p. 2.
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV037-V&P.pdf
Because you all are advanced, I'll leave the key changes up to you.
Begin with the bass voice, and only go as far as Rehearsal B to start with. Then, look at it in relation to the tenor, alto, and soprano voices. Is this a strict fugue? Why or why not?
Cover the ground from Rehearsal B to C next, beginning with the soprano voice this time, and going through the same comparative process.
Finally, work from letter C to the end, again using comparison as you go to help you navigate each line with information from the other lines.
If you like, use the alto/soprano duet at Rehearsal C as a sing/play, and if you had fun with that, do the same with the tenor/bass duet that follows.
Enjoy, my friends, and remember to take it one little bit at a time!
Monday, November 14, 2011
Da capo...
Greetings, dear students!
Well, the Grinch is already undergoing his heart-size transformation on TBS (and seeing the Whos come out to sing in the town square after he'd stolen all of their presents totally made me cry this year...that's a first for me...I must be getting even more sentimental, which is saying something for a choral conductor), there is general growling about people's decorations going up too early, and I taught the world's highest Silent Night descant to my graduate choir this afternoon...yes, I believe the holidays may be coming, like it or not.
I've been a little out of touch with the passing of time lately, so the typical post-halloween retail rush into things Christmas-y didn't get my attention like usual...it took something else, something more iconic, something melismatic....
Yes, that's right -- it took the first rehearsal of the choral numbers from Part the First of Messiah for me to realize that Christmas isn't too far away. I hadn't sung them in quite awhile...in fact, I'm reasonably certain the last time I interacted with them closely was way back in my undergraduate days with my pals from the Pacific Conservatory music fraternities. I still have an orange Novello score from the experience that is marked up within an inch of its well-loved life, as I used all of my brain power to digest and understand this music that so many before me have known, sung, played, and loved. It was a nice experience...I felt like I was meeting an old friend. The vocal lines never seem to have left that settled place in my voice, the imitation still makes good sense to my ears, the dance allusions still make my feet itch to move. It made me miss that time in my life, true to the predictions of my dear teacher who heard me do a lot of complaining at that time about how busy I was and how irresponsible my colleagues were being in rehearsal, and how I just wanted the whole darn thing to be over, etc., etc. So, while I feel a little ashamed of the me of a decade past because she couldn't be patient enough to enjoy the process, I am also grateful for one of the things about life that also has a way of driving me (and probably most people) nuts:
For better or worse, things have a way of coming around again.
Perhaps this is the reason why composers dreamt up musical forms like rondo, sonata-allegro, theme and variations, and da capo, where material returns, giving the listener a feeling of closure. A professor told me way back when that humans find repetition psychologically comforting, and that's why the return of A material is such a prevalent practice in music -- I thought he was a little nuts. And now, being the person who gets teary over Dr. Seuss movies and only knows it's almost Christmastime because Handel showed up in my choir folder, I think I believe it. I'm far from the first to notice this, I'm sure, but it seems to be worth saying, just the same.
So, I have some da capo (or at least, repetitive) examples for your analytical, musical, and psychological enjoyment:
Rising Level 2's
Take a look here:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/4/49/IMSLP11350-
Handel_Messiah_No.18_Rejoice_Greatly_O_Daughter_Of_Zion.pdf
And a listen here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1xlYIoekE8&feature=fvsr
You've likely heard it before, but listen with the score anyhow. You'll likely be able to pick out the big sections right away. What distinguishes them from one another? Tonality? Tempo? Character? All of the above? What seems to motivate these changes?
Now, there are modulations within each big section, too. Listen again with the score, and at each cadence you hear, circle the home tone. Do the accidentals leading up to each cadence reflect that change? How would you sing the melody in solfa in light of this information? How would you sing the bass (continuo) line? Where is the easiest place to change keys?
Rising Level 3's
Take a look at this:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/3/3d/IMSLP11111-Handel_Messiah_No.6_But_Who_May_Abide_The_Day.pdf
And a listen to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlB3E_OmpT4
(NOTE: I personally like my soloists on this one to sound a little more freaked out -- this guy's calm is impressive and his voice is lovely, but it's all somehow emotionally unsatisfying to me...call me a drama queen, but is it a refiner's fire or a space heater?)
Now, the form of this one is a bit different, yes? The repeated material is marked in even more obvious ways than the rising 2's example. Why do you think that is?
What keys do you go through in order to sing the vocal line of this little ditty? When the surface material gets extremely active in the fast section, what is happening in the bass line?
Rising Level 4's
Here is your wickedly chromatic selection:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/3/3d/IMSLP11111-Handel_Messiah_No.6_But_Who_May_Abide_The_Day.pdf
And a recording to match (with the recitative that precedes it...the aria begins at about 3:00....and this guy's face totally makes up for the placidity of the rising 3's guy...maybe a little too much, as it turns out...)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rukah9okGs
So, perhaps at this point, you're saying to yourself: um....where's the da capo? Good question.
What was the problem with the da capo aria from a plot-line standpoint? If the singer has to go back and sing the music from the beginning of the aria over again, has the plot progressed? Has his/her mind changed? Nope. That's right, da capo = static, at least to some extent. So, if you look here:
http://imslp.org/wiki/Messiah,_HWV_56_(Handel,_George_Frideric)
at the context of the other movements and the text they contain, can you think of a reason why Handel might have chosen not to bring material back? In terms of the Christmas story, was something important about to happen in, say, the very next movement?
Anyway, see if you can dream up some clever chromatic solfa solutions to this rather tricky melody line. Feel free to email them to me if you come up with something you'd like to share!
Well, the Grinch is already undergoing his heart-size transformation on TBS (and seeing the Whos come out to sing in the town square after he'd stolen all of their presents totally made me cry this year...that's a first for me...I must be getting even more sentimental, which is saying something for a choral conductor), there is general growling about people's decorations going up too early, and I taught the world's highest Silent Night descant to my graduate choir this afternoon...yes, I believe the holidays may be coming, like it or not.
I've been a little out of touch with the passing of time lately, so the typical post-halloween retail rush into things Christmas-y didn't get my attention like usual...it took something else, something more iconic, something melismatic....
Yes, that's right -- it took the first rehearsal of the choral numbers from Part the First of Messiah for me to realize that Christmas isn't too far away. I hadn't sung them in quite awhile...in fact, I'm reasonably certain the last time I interacted with them closely was way back in my undergraduate days with my pals from the Pacific Conservatory music fraternities. I still have an orange Novello score from the experience that is marked up within an inch of its well-loved life, as I used all of my brain power to digest and understand this music that so many before me have known, sung, played, and loved. It was a nice experience...I felt like I was meeting an old friend. The vocal lines never seem to have left that settled place in my voice, the imitation still makes good sense to my ears, the dance allusions still make my feet itch to move. It made me miss that time in my life, true to the predictions of my dear teacher who heard me do a lot of complaining at that time about how busy I was and how irresponsible my colleagues were being in rehearsal, and how I just wanted the whole darn thing to be over, etc., etc. So, while I feel a little ashamed of the me of a decade past because she couldn't be patient enough to enjoy the process, I am also grateful for one of the things about life that also has a way of driving me (and probably most people) nuts:
For better or worse, things have a way of coming around again.
Perhaps this is the reason why composers dreamt up musical forms like rondo, sonata-allegro, theme and variations, and da capo, where material returns, giving the listener a feeling of closure. A professor told me way back when that humans find repetition psychologically comforting, and that's why the return of A material is such a prevalent practice in music -- I thought he was a little nuts. And now, being the person who gets teary over Dr. Seuss movies and only knows it's almost Christmastime because Handel showed up in my choir folder, I think I believe it. I'm far from the first to notice this, I'm sure, but it seems to be worth saying, just the same.
So, I have some da capo (or at least, repetitive) examples for your analytical, musical, and psychological enjoyment:
Rising Level 2's
Take a look here:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/4/49/IMSLP11350-
Handel_Messiah_No.18_Rejoice_Greatly_O_Daughter_Of_Zion.pdf
And a listen here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1xlYIoekE8&feature=fvsr
You've likely heard it before, but listen with the score anyhow. You'll likely be able to pick out the big sections right away. What distinguishes them from one another? Tonality? Tempo? Character? All of the above? What seems to motivate these changes?
Now, there are modulations within each big section, too. Listen again with the score, and at each cadence you hear, circle the home tone. Do the accidentals leading up to each cadence reflect that change? How would you sing the melody in solfa in light of this information? How would you sing the bass (continuo) line? Where is the easiest place to change keys?
Rising Level 3's
Take a look at this:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/3/3d/IMSLP11111-Handel_Messiah_No.6_But_Who_May_Abide_The_Day.pdf
And a listen to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlB3E_OmpT4
(NOTE: I personally like my soloists on this one to sound a little more freaked out -- this guy's calm is impressive and his voice is lovely, but it's all somehow emotionally unsatisfying to me...call me a drama queen, but is it a refiner's fire or a space heater?)
Now, the form of this one is a bit different, yes? The repeated material is marked in even more obvious ways than the rising 2's example. Why do you think that is?
What keys do you go through in order to sing the vocal line of this little ditty? When the surface material gets extremely active in the fast section, what is happening in the bass line?
Rising Level 4's
Here is your wickedly chromatic selection:
http://erato.uvt.nl/files/imglnks/usimg/3/3d/IMSLP11111-Handel_Messiah_No.6_But_Who_May_Abide_The_Day.pdf
And a recording to match (with the recitative that precedes it...the aria begins at about 3:00....and this guy's face totally makes up for the placidity of the rising 3's guy...maybe a little too much, as it turns out...)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rukah9okGs
So, perhaps at this point, you're saying to yourself: um....where's the da capo? Good question.
What was the problem with the da capo aria from a plot-line standpoint? If the singer has to go back and sing the music from the beginning of the aria over again, has the plot progressed? Has his/her mind changed? Nope. That's right, da capo = static, at least to some extent. So, if you look here:
http://imslp.org/wiki/Messiah,_HWV_56_(Handel,_George_Frideric)
at the context of the other movements and the text they contain, can you think of a reason why Handel might have chosen not to bring material back? In terms of the Christmas story, was something important about to happen in, say, the very next movement?
Anyway, see if you can dream up some clever chromatic solfa solutions to this rather tricky melody line. Feel free to email them to me if you come up with something you'd like to share!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Let It Go
Welcome, my dear solfeggists!
I think I've blogged about this general topic before, but I tend to have troubles with hanging onto stuff that doesn't help me. Sometimes it's tangible stuff (why are there paystubs from a job I had in 2006 living in the trunk of my car? Because.), maybe more often it's emotional stuff. Sometimes I blame it on having a weirdly accurate memory about some things, but the truth is that my mind enjoys (???) reliving situations that it can't reconcile to its own satisfaction. It grabs on like gangbustas, refuses all distractions, and really concentrates on being upset. Yeah, I know...healthy, right? I bet I'm not alone...
This afternoon, I had a conversation with a professor who affirmed something related I've begun to suspect about listening to post-tonal music in general. In order to enjoy it, I personally have to consciously choose to let go, be less judgy, and let myself not know exactly what's going on or what's coming next. I have to give up, and in order to do so, I have to on-purpose go find the white flag and run it up the pole. This is tricky -- unraveling a well-established, intentionally-honed skill set and replacing it with calm awareness is definitely not a simple task. I'm starting to see that hyper-analysis musically is very much related to my habit of hyper-analysis of situations, people, etc., and that both have a way of getting in the way of me enjoying my life.
The long-run antidote? I'm not sure. I bet it has to do with both effort towards changing a mental pattern and relaxation towards (if one can relax directionally...maybe that contradicts the whole idea of relaxation) the fact that I have the pattern. After all, I know a lot of neurotic people -- there must be some kind of genetic advantage to being that way, or there wouldn't be so many of us swimming around in the gene pool, right?
In the short term, however, try this exercise for the week:
All Levels:
Select a piece or two from the list below (or a piece by another composer whose work you find a little difficult or intimidating):
Paul Hindemith - When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
Bela Bartók - Cantata Profana
Arnold Schoenberg - Gurre-Lieder
Gyorgy Ligeti - Lux Aeterna
Karlheinz Stockhausen - Stimmung
(roughly in order of accessibility)
Track down a recording (you can buy them on iTunes for cheap, or your local university library or a good public library will have them) and set aside some time to listen. Sit someplace comfortable, turn off your ringer, close your laptop. Listen. Exercise your non-judgy muscles. Pay more attention to what happens to the sounds than you do to what the sounds themselves are (a tip stolen fair and square from my aforementioned professor). If your ear needs a break, take one. Try listening to the whole thing more than one time if you can. Observe how your experience changes.
It all sounds a little abstract, I know, but I think we can handle it. Enjoy!
I think I've blogged about this general topic before, but I tend to have troubles with hanging onto stuff that doesn't help me. Sometimes it's tangible stuff (why are there paystubs from a job I had in 2006 living in the trunk of my car? Because.), maybe more often it's emotional stuff. Sometimes I blame it on having a weirdly accurate memory about some things, but the truth is that my mind enjoys (???) reliving situations that it can't reconcile to its own satisfaction. It grabs on like gangbustas, refuses all distractions, and really concentrates on being upset. Yeah, I know...healthy, right? I bet I'm not alone...
This afternoon, I had a conversation with a professor who affirmed something related I've begun to suspect about listening to post-tonal music in general. In order to enjoy it, I personally have to consciously choose to let go, be less judgy, and let myself not know exactly what's going on or what's coming next. I have to give up, and in order to do so, I have to on-purpose go find the white flag and run it up the pole. This is tricky -- unraveling a well-established, intentionally-honed skill set and replacing it with calm awareness is definitely not a simple task. I'm starting to see that hyper-analysis musically is very much related to my habit of hyper-analysis of situations, people, etc., and that both have a way of getting in the way of me enjoying my life.
The long-run antidote? I'm not sure. I bet it has to do with both effort towards changing a mental pattern and relaxation towards (if one can relax directionally...maybe that contradicts the whole idea of relaxation) the fact that I have the pattern. After all, I know a lot of neurotic people -- there must be some kind of genetic advantage to being that way, or there wouldn't be so many of us swimming around in the gene pool, right?
In the short term, however, try this exercise for the week:
All Levels:
Select a piece or two from the list below (or a piece by another composer whose work you find a little difficult or intimidating):
Paul Hindemith - When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
Bela Bartók - Cantata Profana
Arnold Schoenberg - Gurre-Lieder
Gyorgy Ligeti - Lux Aeterna
Karlheinz Stockhausen - Stimmung
(roughly in order of accessibility)
Track down a recording (you can buy them on iTunes for cheap, or your local university library or a good public library will have them) and set aside some time to listen. Sit someplace comfortable, turn off your ringer, close your laptop. Listen. Exercise your non-judgy muscles. Pay more attention to what happens to the sounds than you do to what the sounds themselves are (a tip stolen fair and square from my aforementioned professor). If your ear needs a break, take one. Try listening to the whole thing more than one time if you can. Observe how your experience changes.
It all sounds a little abstract, I know, but I think we can handle it. Enjoy!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Plan A....through Plan Z
Hello, my ever-ready solfeggists!
Well, it's Holy Week. And it's the day after my DMA recital...and I even have photographic evidence!
Needless to say, between 28 verses of "All Glory, Laud and Honor" and the concert yesterday, it's been a whirlwind of a weekend, and there's no slowdown in sight.
In times like these, we make plans and hope that things fall into place. And, sometimes we're lucky and that's what happens -- we're lucky enough (or experienced enough) that Plan A winds up being the plan we use. However, that's not usually the case, and I can tell you honestly that even though last night was a pretty smooth ride as concerts go (thanks in large part to the kindness, flexibility, and skill of my collaborators), there were several necessary deviations from my original Plan A. That being said, it's probably also true that these deviations and changes and adaptations impacted the evening in ways that were visible and invisible, predictable and unpredictable, and knowing what I know now, I think I wouldn't go back and change much, even if I could. Why? Because while I know I could have done a lot of things better and I had to compromise on some things because I couldn't have everything I thought I needed, trading in history for yet another unpredictable future seems both ungrateful and probably ill-advised. The detours and negotiations and maybe even the mistakes led me and all the performers to the exact time/place/action I call "last night's concert", and behold....it was good.
So, in the realm of solfa, let's take an adventure with an old tune....
If you read just the top line (which you may choose to sing starting on "re" or "la"....there are no Bs in the tune, so it's all diatonic either way), this is one of the more well-known Gregorian tunes. It also happens to be one of only four sequences that survived the Council of Trent's liturgical reforms...perhaps the first point earning it its place in music history textbooks.
Now, if you read through this tune and thought to yourself, "Gee, that sounds familiar, but I don't think that's how I know it....", check this out:
That's right...this Gregorian tune, which certainly had its day in polyphonic settings by Catholic composers (look for long notes in order to locate the tune):
...got a new identity as a Lutheran chorale tune, courtesy of Luther himself. Predictably, the guy who took Luther's tune and made Lutheran magic (in the vernacular) with it was our favorite Thurungian genius, J.S. Bach:
http://www.kantoreiarchiv.de/archiv/choir_orchestra/cantata/bach/bwv_4/bwv_4_score_pdf/bwv_4_01a.pdf
And ever since, the tune has had a double life, and people from both Roman Catholic and Protestant denominations associate it with Eastertide.
So, this week, take a little time and read through various parts of its various incarnations. Look for common threads, and look for points of contrast. Hunt down other settings and tell us what you find! Choose your own adventure!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Armed Man
Hello, solfa crusaders!
Whew! This week has been a whirlwind! Classes are in full swing, choirs are all back in session as of tonight...the plates, they are a-spinning!
The most unusual thing I've been up to so far has been a presentation I gave to Douglas County music teachers on repertoire-driven musical literacy. These nice people sat through a lot of me talking and asking them lots of strange questions (you know, the kind of stuff I torture you poor AKI people with for 3 weeks straight every summer) and giving them various "gifts" (see previous parenthetical statement). It was a really good learning experience for me, and at the end of the day's activities, a very nice woman who teaches elementary general music stayed behind to talk to me for awhile. In my tired end-of-the-day state, I probably overshared my personal convictions about musical literacy -- basically, that I think of it as comparable in many ways to teaching people in impoverished conditions to read and write language, thereby empowering them to make their lives better (and I probably said something about overthrowing their oppressors, too...I guess that means my default setting in a state of mental fatigue is "Norma Rae"...). And, to my hindsight's surprise, this woman not only didn't start backing out of the room, she seemed to really agree. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised at the general aura of receptivity over the course of the day. It seems that musical literacy may be an idea whose time has come.
Now, in my life as a graduate student, I am currently in a very cool class on vocal music in the Renaissance, and the focus of the first half of the class is polyphonic mass settings based upon the "L'Homme Arme" tune. Chances are you've come across this tune at some point in your musical studies, but I know I'm learning tons of stuff about it I never knew before...the folks writing these mass settings really went nuts with this tune, and folks in the 20th and 21st centuries have spilled a lot of ink over trying to figure out whose setting came first and what the significance of this tune was to the people who were using it (among other issues). I'll take the risk of over-simplifying and say that the tune definitely seems to have acted as a rallying point, a means for people to say that they were in on something, whether it was a musical idea, a military goal, or a political opinion. So, since I seem to be a little extra Norma Rae-ish these days, I thought we might have a little fun of our own with the Armed Man.
Rising Level 2's
Check out this link:
Sing through the original melody, which you could think of as basically being in 6/4, but felt in 2 -- the number of dotted-half-note beats is 32 (31 + 1, actually -- for specific political reasons, it seems...if you're curious, look up The Order of the Golden Fleece). I'd sing it as so-so' Mixolydian (feel free to transpose if it's more comfortable).
Now, look ahead to Ockeghem's Kyrie and sing through the tenor line (note that it's in 3/2). With the exception of the last 4 bars, what's going on with the tenor line as it relates to the opening melody?
OK, now the fun begins -- go back to the original melody and add a B-flat to the signature. Now sing the melody with the B-flat (I recommend re-re' Dorian). What do you think? Do you like it better this way? As it turns out, lots of composers decided to use the tune this way, too....Ockeghem did, too, later in this same mass, but not in the Kyrie.
Go ahead and sing through the other voice parts as written. Heck, have a little L'Homme Arme sing-along with some of your pals!
Rising Level 3's
Go through the same steps as the rising Level 2's.
Now, in addition to singing the melody in so-so' Mixolydian and re-re' Dorian, I'd like you to also experiment with a two-flat signature (Aeolian) and a one-sharp signature (Ionian). What works the best for your ear? Apply your favorite rendition to a sing-through of one of the other voice parts of the Kyrie. What happens?
Rising Level 4's
Go through the same steps as the rising Level 2's.
Now, in addition to singing the melody in so-so' Mixolydian and re-re' Dorian, I'd like you to also experiment with a two-flat signature (Aeolian), a one-sharp signature (Ionian), and a two-sharp signature (Lydian). Lydian is particularly difficult....why? Would they have used this version in the early Renaissance? Why not? Apply your favorite rendition to a sing-through of one of the other voice parts of the Kyrie.
All Levels
Knowing what you now know about the opening contour of this melody, do you hear a striking resemblance to the chorus of this well-known tune:
Hmmmmm.....
Oh, and you can listen to a cool performance of the whole Ockeghem Missa L'Homme Arme here:
Just keep following the links in the right sidebar to find the Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei. Now that you know the tune, can your ear pick it out of the polyphonic texture? Do you notice that the notes on the page for the Kyrie are somewhat altered in this performance, especially at cadences? What are the singers doing?
Enjoy!
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