Lift Every Voice

Welcome, readers!

DISCLAIMER: While I'd like to think this post will be musically substantive, you should probably know up front that I'm going to sound kind of like a hippie.  But, since I grew up in Portland and have spent the last decade spending large portions of my time in Boulder, I don't think any of you should really be that surprised.

Last week's Alan Lomax post, in combination with my journey to the OAKE conference a few weeks back, got me thinking about "music of the people" for the past few days.  I tend to get a little shifty about this whole topic, torn between the fairly hard-core opinions of the traditional Kodály camp (the most conservative of whom tend to profess that the only legitimate folk music tradition in North America is that of its indigenous people, and all the English-language stuff is either stolen from Great Britain or composed, and therefore not technically folk music) and a more "progressive" point of view.  I find the former far too restrictive (especially in its more extreme incarnations), but I'm also not entirely comfortable with the inclusion of songs like "Rock around the Clock" on this list assembled by NAofME (formerly MENC) of songs that have a place in the American "canon" of songs everyone should be able to sing.  I think it's a sticky dilemma all around -- on the one hand, we want people to sing, and it stands to reason that they're more likely to sing songs they like.  However, I sort of think of "Rock around the Clock" as the musical equivalent of Cheetos....many will find it appealing, but the song is fundamentally without musical or emotional (nutritional) value.  And, like several other songs they include, it's pretty difficult to sing it well, which means that when people unaccustomed to singing try to sing it, it won't sound good.  Now, one might argue that "it doesn't matter what it sounds like," but I agree with one of my favorite authorities on communal singing, Alice Parker, on this one.  In her book Melodious Accord, Ms. Parker writes:

"...the statement 'I just want the people to enjoy singing; it doesn't matter how they sound' is meaningless. Music is sound, and the better it sounds, the better it is -- and the more people will be caught by it."

So, all of that has me taking a big step back into a more classic Kodály paradigm. But, at the same time, I don't really have a problem with "Edelweiss" or "Over the Rainbow" making the list.  Is that just my personal taste talking?  Maybe.  Can we really consider either one of those pieces folk music?  Nope.  However, I think there's something emotionally honest and compelling about both of them, and I think they have melodies that are made for singing (even though there are some tricky leaps).  I don't believe they're necessarily what we should be teaching kids to sing in kindergarten music classes, but I do think it'd be a great thing if kids grew up singing those songs at home with their families, and I feel that way about maybe 60% of that list, give or take.  And, it should be said that I cut my teeth on the musical equivalent of strychnine in the form of really awful church music from the words-on-the-overhead-I-V-IV-I (no, that's not a typo)-sing-the-chorus-9000-times-Jesus-is-my-boyfriend tradition, and somehow I still came out loving Bach and Josquin, so there you go.  Maybe all those Wee Sing and Simon & Garfunkel tunes (with a little help from the classical station always playing at my grandparents' house) were enough to prevent my permanent descent into the ignoble.

I'm asking all levels to do the same assignment yet again, but as always, I encourage you to regulate your own difficulty level -- if it's too easy, kick it up a notch; if it's too difficult, dial it back.

All Levels:


Read through this article:

http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/03/how-communal-singing-disappeared-from-american-life/255094/

And check out this link (the NAofME list mentioned above):

http://www.nafme.org/resources/view/get-america-singing-again

Follow these steps:

1. Take a quick look through the list of songs on the link above.  Without thinking too much about it, mark which ones you think everyone ought to be able to sing.  If you don't know a song, skip it.  If you're feeling conflicted because you LOVE a song, but you fear it might be trashy, include it -- I promise not to judge you.

2. Make a note of how much of NAofME's collection you actually chose to use.  Sort the pieces into genres: true folk songs, patriotic songs, composed traditional songs (I'd put Stephen Foster in this category, but I'll leave John Denver and Joni Mitchell up to you), pop songs, or any other designation you come up with.

3. Dust off your solfa chops and put syllables to a few songs from each genre.  Try to transcribe one from each genre in a key you think is appropriate for communal singing.

4. Analyze your transcriptions informally, but with an eye towards the elements you look for in your song collection analyses.  What elements are easy to find?  What elements are almost non-existent?  What makes a song difficult or easy?  How did you deal with the rhythms in the more syncopated examples?  Did you find that you really didn't want to have to write down the rhythms the way that you actually sing them?

5. If you were to make your own list from the songs you chose, plus others you know, what songs would you include?  Remember, these are songs you think every grownup in North America should know and be able to sing...not necessarily the songs you'd use in your classroom (so, in a sense, I'm asking you to choose with your heart rather than your head). How do your examples differ from the songs you chose to leave off your list?  Do your own examples come from your Kodály song collection, or from another source?  How personal are these songs to you?

6. Just for fun, as you go about your daily life, sing some of your favorite songs -- with others, or just by yourself.  Who knows?  Maybe you'll inspire other grownups to lift up their voices and sing.

Fluency and Immersion, part 2

Greetings, solfa-speakers!

Well, my friends, I've been thinking about last week's post (see below), and while part of me is a bit nervous that I've made my final descent into dogma, there were two things that happened this week that both helped me feel more confident about what I said and suggested to me that I ought to follow up. Both incidents involved educators I respect deeply, and their perspective on this (as in many parts of my life!) has helped refine my own.

First, one dear friend of mine asked me soon after I posted: are you saying it has to be solfa? And the answer is no, I don't think it has to be. Kodály-based solfege pedagogy isn't a form of monotheism. It is certainly not the only path to good musicianship. It just happens to be the path I know, so it's the path I teach. And, while a healthy sense of the whole scope of options is good for one's sense of open-mindedness, I do also think there's a danger in being resistant to following one path because one is afraid of being cut off from other options. The other options will always be there -- and once good musicianship is in place, it can be endlessly re-informed and made over. It is true that whatever one does first may always feel like a kind of mother tongue (witness that, under pressure, most everyone counts and does arithmetic in whatever language they first learned). However, I don't think that's a bad thing. It is ok to embrace one perspective for a period of time and open one's self up to other perspectives later. It may not be ok to embrace one perspective to the permanent exclusion of all others....and it may also not be ok to refuse to embrace any perspective in the name of open-mindedness and then wind up not knowing things one wants and needs to know.

The other incident wasn't directly related to the blog or even to solfa, but it is a story about immersion. After a choir concert, the conductor and I were sitting at the post-concert dinner gathering and one of the choristers, a young guy who has sung in several choirs, asked if the choir could sing something in the restaurant. The conductor told him that was fine, but that he (the chorister) had to lead it. The chorister agreed, and led the chorus in a rendition of "Bonse aba" with himself as the caller. At the end of the piece, when a little bit of conducting is required, this brave singer (who has no formal musical training beyond that of a typical community choir singer) simply threw out his arms and gestured his way to the end of the piece, and his fellow singers followed him perfectly. His conducting was very reminiscent of my friend, the conductor of the group, and my friend definitely noticed. We talked about it later, and my friend said how unexpectedly touched he was by the experience, and how surprised he was that our singer, on the power of pure instinct, did what he'd been shown by the conductor and it worked. I said that I think we maybe shouldn't be so surprised when this happens. As conductors and teachers, we form mini-cultures in the form of classrooms and choruses, and we probably shouldn't be surprised when our singers' cultural vocabulary goes from passive to active -- because that just means we've done our job. The immersion has worked. The message has been sent.

So, in the spirit of immersion:

Rising Level 2's

Your Ottman examples are: 11.2, 11.5, 11.6, 11.7, 11.8, 11.10

For each example, scan (checking for tempo/character markings and noting the origin of each melody), set your key/meter, and sing it through. Then, do a bit of reflecting: did the melody do what you expected? Where did you have trouble? Did the trouble spots coincide with the places where your expectations were not fulfilled? Can you use this information to refine your musical instincts?

Rising Level 3's

Your Ottman examples are: 14.1, 14.2, 14.4, 14.5, 14.6, 14.7

Follow the same instructions as the rising level 2's, but add to your list of reflective questions: in each example, there is an opportunity to modulate (to a key a fifth away...watch out for the Handel!). Did you choose to? What was the key relationship involved? Did it work? What happens if you make a different choice? What seem to be the deciding factors?

Rising Level 4's

Your Ottman examples are: 14.8, 14.9, 14.10, 14.11, 14.12, 14.13

Follow the same instructions as the rising level 2's, with the same added questions as the 3's.

Jump right in, and enjoy!

Fluency and Immersion

Hello, my faithful readers!

Well, I missed another week....naughty, naughty. I have good excuses, related to Holy Week, the Bernstein Mass, and some annoying health-related woes, but nobody likes a whiner, right? Onward and upward!

During aforementioned Holy Week, I was privy to some quite good sermonizing on the part of the clergy at my current gig....and I must say, the speakers at this gig really are a cut above. You know it must be something kind of special if I keep on stealing material...sincerest form of flattery and all that jazz, yes?

Anyhow, at Easter Vigil, the preacher talked about language acquisition, and naturally, my ears perked up. His language up for discussion was Spanish, and specifically, how he really wants to learn Spanish, and he can decline and conjugate and memorize vocabulary with the best of them (being, as he is, a scholar and teacher of Hellenistic Greek), but what he feels is the missing link in his linguistic learning experience is immersion. Immersion is the gateway to fluency.

The speaker went on to tell a story about a friend of his who learned formal Castilian Spanish in the classroom, and considered himself quite accomplished in the language, and then he up and moved to Nicaragua and guess what...all his vocabulary and skill was essentially non-functional in that environment. He toughed it out, but had an incredibly hard go of it for a long time -- months, maybe longer. Then, it's the part of the story you already know if you've had an immersive linguistic experience: he woke up one morning, and he suddenly understood. He was thinking, speaking, even dreaming in the language of his surroundings. Having had a small taste of that experience myself, I couldn't stop smiling through that part of the story, even though I knew it was coming. Why? Because that feeling of finally getting it, of finally fitting into the rhythm of what is around you, of not having to struggle for every word anymore feels SO GOOD. I remember it as euphoric, no exaggeration, and my own experience was just a small transition from idiot American to barely functional temporary expat. But, when my teeny-tiny functional Hungarian vocabulary became second nature, I was completely delighted, and I have a suspicion that a linguistic neophyte has kind of an advantage in these matters, because the jump from one plateau to the next must be similar each time, and the joy must be just as wonderful and just as surprising each time.

You probably already know where I'm going with this.

Why do I fuss at you for writing in all your solfa or for wanting to read things on a neutral syllable before you "add solfa" or for not keeping tuning forks on your person, etc.? Why am I so picky about things that don't seem to matter? Because it's about immersion. And, the difference between learning a language and learning to be fluent in solfa is that you have music to interact with everywhere, all the time, all around you. It can certainly be helpful to have other people around you to help reinforce the immersiveness of your experience in daily life, but you can actually opt to be immersed in solfa anytime you want.

Really.

I know it for sure...because I was the kid on the trampoline in my backyard with a hymnal and a Casio keyboard to give me starting pitches (this was before my first encounter of the tuning fork kind). Granted, that's a little extreme, and definitely very homeschooled of me, but I know that's the time it took for me to get from stumbling over re, fa, and la to being able to apply the syllables instantaneously. The same thing happened when I was in college and struggling with dictation -- I just made myself solfa everything I heard and then write some of it down. I opted in for an immersive experience in my daily life, and it took some mental discipline and some time, but mostly it just took me making the decision. It didn't cost me any money. It took a lot less time than I thought. It just took me committing to it, buying in, deciding I wanted it, and choosing to pay attention to what I heard all the time. And the best part of all? Once you have it, it's yours. You get to keep it, and it doesn't go away, and no one can take it away. The more you do it, the happier and more empowered it will make you. Check it out: personal fulfillment, happiness, and empowerment, courtesy of Guido d'Arezzo, a dude who's been dead for 1100 years. It doesn't get any better than that.

So, this week:

All Levels:

Make an immersive decision, just one, every day this week. Stop yourself when you hear a tune you like (even if it's something you already know), solfa it, and write it down. Pick up a piece of music, any piece you like, and read it in solfa. Then read another part in solfa. Then tap one and read the other. Switch.

You can do this. It just takes time, and making the decision. Who knows? You might become addicted! Don't say I didn't warn you!