Hello, stalwart solfeggists!
It's been a crazy week in my world, and the weekend has left me with very little room to breathe. So, this week's installment will be short, but (hopefully) pithy.
In your Ottman book, chapter 18 is all about forbidding-looking rhythms, specifically, those that use very small divisions of the beat. Recently, I've been teaching some rhythmically challenging pieces in choral contexts, and it's once again come to my attention that many folks use a repetitive physical gesture (foot or hand-tapping, usually) when they encounter any sort of rhythmic difficulty, and they usually try to tap to a pretty small rhythmic value. I understand the inclination to do this, but I'm quite opposed to it. Why?
-We tend to be taught as children that our western rhythmic system is based on mathematical operations, and that's not really true (I mean, it's factual in a way to say that rhythm is mathematical, but math is not nearly as influential on our experience of rhythm as we think it is). Our rhythmic system is extremely influenced by hierarchy, and it is hierarchy that makes a rhythmic pattern feel how it feels to us. Therefore, if we don't reflect hierarchy in any aid we use to read a rhythm, we're sabotaging ourselves.
-Tapping a small rhythmic value as your "beat" the same way over and over (without any kind of hierarchy) is a recipe for getting lost. Your brain barely has a fighting chance of keeping track of all that repetitive motion, despite what your sense of security might be trying to tell you. We tend to feel like we're being more accurate because we're doing something, but the something we're doing in this case is likely to just distract us from inaccuracies.
-Rhythmic patterns aren't made difficult by speed, they're made difficult by unpredictability or unfamiliarity. So, slowing something far past the point of its intended tempo is probably less useful than we think -- the composer heard it inside her/his head as a pattern that made sense at a given tempo, and if we get too far away from that tempo, the pattern doesn't feel the same way anymore.
-Our brains aren't wired to perceive quick notes as isolated incidents, but rather as elements of a pattern that has a specific interplay within an established hierarchy.
Now, these rules start to fall apart if you start working with some types of early music or 20th/21st-century serialized rhythms or rhythms chosen through chance operations, etc., but the Ottman examples we're dealing with here definitely play by these rules. So, I'm going to insist on a few things:
1. Conduct. This doesn't necessarily have to be a traditional hand/arm pattern, but you have to do something with your body that shows the beats of the measure in distinct places AND gives a sense of which beats are strong in the hierarchy of the meter and which are not. For example, if you were to use your foot in a 2/4 meter, you could decide that your heel touching the ground would be beat 1 and your toe touching the ground would be beat 2.
2. Don't stray too far from the notated tempo. A conservative tempo is one thing, but if you're thinking in 32nd notes, the rhythm you think you're performing has nothing to do with the actual piece of music the composer wrote (unless it's in 3/32 or some such craziness).
3. If you're struggling with notes and rhythms together, isolate the rhythm.
4. Think in groupings and phrases, not in isolated note values. Start to see that the last sixteenth note of a beat will feel like a pickup to (or a decoration of) the beat that follows, etc. Just like in the world of pitches, the magic of rhythmic patterns has everything to do with the relationships being expressed.
5. Trust your body. Before you begin reading each example, take the time to really ground yourself in the the meter by moving (see item 1). Once you've started reading, if something seems wrong, see if you can figure out a reason -- it might just be a mistake, or it might be a misplaced metric accent, or an unusual phrase length, etc. Trust that your body knows how a good, solid 4/4 ought to feel, even if it's slow, and if something happens to upset your expectations, be a good detective and figure out why.
Rising Level 2's
Try your hands/feet/voices at these...ignore any grace notes:
18.1 & 18.2
18.12 & 18.13
18.16
18.17 (make sure you look carefully at the key)
18.22
18.29
Rising Level 3's
Give these your best shot:
18.18
18.19
18.21
18.23
18.25 (don't let the sixteenth rests freak you out)
18.26
Rising Level 4's
Your examples are longer and more complex, so you can spread them out over multiple days as you see fit:
18.30
18.31
18.32
18.34
So, hold steady and don't let the little notes scare you -- they're just a decorative part of the whole, and if you approach them calmly, they'll fall into place.
PS: It looks like I lied about this post being short...sometimes that happens when we get going, I guess...my apologies!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
O tell me the truth about love
Greetings, much-loved solfeggists!
First, in honor of Valentine's Day, please indulge me in reading the following by one of my all-time favorite poets, W.H. Auden. Benjamin Britten set it and three of Auden's other poems about love in his "Cabaret Songs" -- you can follow this link to hear a performance of all four songs (the audio quality isn't the best....sorry!).
Some say that love's a little boy, and some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round, and some say that's absurd:
But when I asked the man next door who looked as if he knew,
His wife grew very cross indeed and said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pyjamas or the ham in a temperance hotel?
O tell me the truth about love.
Does its odour remind one of llamas, or has it a comforting smell?
O tell me the truth about love.
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, or soft as an eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summerhouse, it wasn't ever there,
I've tried the Thames at Maidenhead and Brighton's bracing air;
I don't know what the blackbird sang or what the roses said,
But it wasn't in the chicken run or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing?
O tell me the truth about love.
Does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string?
O tell me the truth about love.
Has it views of its own about money? Does it think patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar, but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
Your feelings when you meet it, I am told, you can't forget,
I've sought it since I was a child but haven't found it yet;
I'm getting on for thirty-five, and still I do not know
What kind of creature it can be that bothers people so.
When it comes, will it come without warning, just as I'm picking my nose?
O tell me the truth about love.
Will it knock on my door in the morning, or tread in the bus on my toes?
O tell me the truth about love.
Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or bluff?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
Clearly, Auden isn't being too serious about all this (ergo the allusion to nose-picking), but his request is well-taken. We've all been enculturated into the rosiest of illusions about love, courtesy of the Disney princesses, Hallmark, eHarmony, etc. We've also seen the reality of our own and others' relationships, and the cognitive dissonance between the illusory and the real can be hard to take. In particular, I've been noticing that this concept of the ideal often prevents people from having the guts to talk about what's real (and what's really bothering us) because we feel guilty that we haven't managed somehow to magick fantasy into reality. Then, we get resentful because things drift ever further away from the way we want them to be, and it becomes harder and harder to salvage whatever's gone wrong. Luckily, no one has a perfect memory, and we all forget many of our disappointments, which turns into a kind of accidental forgiveness....but it's clear that this isn't a real solution, and sometimes it isn't so easy to wait until the feelings pass.
My rising level 3's will remember me saying several times this summer:
Solfa is like therapy. When you talk about your problems, it becomes a lot easier to solve them.
I'd like to add to that:
Your relationship to your own ideal musical self is like any other relationship. It doesn't thrive because you feel fuzzy about it. It thrives because you work on it.
This is not to say that you shouldn't enjoy the work. Lucky for us, there's a lot to love about being a musician, and we should strive to immerse ourselves in the most satisfying parts of that as often as we can, whether that's performing, listening, composing, whatever. But, there's also spinach to be eaten...and we can't expect to be virtuosi if we shy away from the aspects of our musicianship that fall short. We have to be honest about them. We have to talk about them. We have to give them some attention, and be ok with the fact that it might be intellectually and emotionally difficult in the short run. But, if we believe it's worth it, we have to try.
All Levels:
Take a look at this love song by Hans Leo Hassler:
http://www3.cpdl.org/wiki/images/sheet/hassler/hass-gmu.pdf
The gist of the text is, "Woe is me, I'm in love with someone too good for me..."
Sing through the melody first, and then as many of the harmony parts as you care to tackle.
Memorize the melody
Do a chordal analysis (rising 2's, do as much as you dare) -- you can take your pick of solfa chords (meaning that you start with a Do major) or Roman numerals.
Then, look at this setting of essentially the same melody:
http://www.saengerkreis-bamberg.de/noten/geistlich/passion/Bach_WennIchEinmalSollScheiden.pdf
Sing through the parts, and do a Roman numeral analysis (again, as you are able).
The text of this verse of the chorale (taken from Bach's St. Matthew Passion, and this harmonization is sung just after Christ dies) is:
When I must once and for all depart,
then do not depart from me;
when I must suffer death,
then stand by me;
when my heart will be
most fearful,
then snatch me from the terrors
by the virtue of your own fear and pain!
....and suddenly it's a whole other kind of love song. You can listen to it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8Q6rxdPT7A
And finally, to answer Mr. Auden's question:
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow
Grow in peace, grow in light,
Love will do the thing that's right.
(Shaker Hymn)
Happy Valentine's Day!
First, in honor of Valentine's Day, please indulge me in reading the following by one of my all-time favorite poets, W.H. Auden. Benjamin Britten set it and three of Auden's other poems about love in his "Cabaret Songs" -- you can follow this link to hear a performance of all four songs (the audio quality isn't the best....sorry!).
Some say that love's a little boy, and some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round, and some say that's absurd:
But when I asked the man next door who looked as if he knew,
His wife grew very cross indeed and said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pyjamas or the ham in a temperance hotel?
O tell me the truth about love.
Does its odour remind one of llamas, or has it a comforting smell?
O tell me the truth about love.
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, or soft as an eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summerhouse, it wasn't ever there,
I've tried the Thames at Maidenhead and Brighton's bracing air;
I don't know what the blackbird sang or what the roses said,
But it wasn't in the chicken run or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing?
O tell me the truth about love.
Does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string?
O tell me the truth about love.
Has it views of its own about money? Does it think patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar, but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
Your feelings when you meet it, I am told, you can't forget,
I've sought it since I was a child but haven't found it yet;
I'm getting on for thirty-five, and still I do not know
What kind of creature it can be that bothers people so.
When it comes, will it come without warning, just as I'm picking my nose?
O tell me the truth about love.
Will it knock on my door in the morning, or tread in the bus on my toes?
O tell me the truth about love.
Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or bluff?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
Clearly, Auden isn't being too serious about all this (ergo the allusion to nose-picking), but his request is well-taken. We've all been enculturated into the rosiest of illusions about love, courtesy of the Disney princesses, Hallmark, eHarmony, etc. We've also seen the reality of our own and others' relationships, and the cognitive dissonance between the illusory and the real can be hard to take. In particular, I've been noticing that this concept of the ideal often prevents people from having the guts to talk about what's real (and what's really bothering us) because we feel guilty that we haven't managed somehow to magick fantasy into reality. Then, we get resentful because things drift ever further away from the way we want them to be, and it becomes harder and harder to salvage whatever's gone wrong. Luckily, no one has a perfect memory, and we all forget many of our disappointments, which turns into a kind of accidental forgiveness....but it's clear that this isn't a real solution, and sometimes it isn't so easy to wait until the feelings pass.
My rising level 3's will remember me saying several times this summer:
Solfa is like therapy. When you talk about your problems, it becomes a lot easier to solve them.
I'd like to add to that:
Your relationship to your own ideal musical self is like any other relationship. It doesn't thrive because you feel fuzzy about it. It thrives because you work on it.
This is not to say that you shouldn't enjoy the work. Lucky for us, there's a lot to love about being a musician, and we should strive to immerse ourselves in the most satisfying parts of that as often as we can, whether that's performing, listening, composing, whatever. But, there's also spinach to be eaten...and we can't expect to be virtuosi if we shy away from the aspects of our musicianship that fall short. We have to be honest about them. We have to talk about them. We have to give them some attention, and be ok with the fact that it might be intellectually and emotionally difficult in the short run. But, if we believe it's worth it, we have to try.
All Levels:
Take a look at this love song by Hans Leo Hassler:
http://www3.cpdl.org/wiki/images/sheet/hassler/hass-gmu.pdf
The gist of the text is, "Woe is me, I'm in love with someone too good for me..."
Sing through the melody first, and then as many of the harmony parts as you care to tackle.
Memorize the melody
Do a chordal analysis (rising 2's, do as much as you dare) -- you can take your pick of solfa chords (meaning that you start with a Do major) or Roman numerals.
Then, look at this setting of essentially the same melody:
http://www.saengerkreis-bamberg.de/noten/geistlich/passion/Bach_WennIchEinmalSollScheiden.pdf
Sing through the parts, and do a Roman numeral analysis (again, as you are able).
The text of this verse of the chorale (taken from Bach's St. Matthew Passion, and this harmonization is sung just after Christ dies) is:
When I must once and for all depart,
then do not depart from me;
when I must suffer death,
then stand by me;
when my heart will be
most fearful,
then snatch me from the terrors
by the virtue of your own fear and pain!
....and suddenly it's a whole other kind of love song. You can listen to it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8Q6rxdPT7A
And finally, to answer Mr. Auden's question:
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow
Grow in peace, grow in light,
Love will do the thing that's right.
(Shaker Hymn)
Happy Valentine's Day!
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Power of Suggestion
Greetings from snow-blanketed Denver!
The Universe gave me the unexpected gift of a snow day yesterday -- despite my disappointment in the cancellation/delay of conference events at my British Studies gig, I must confess how badly I'd needed a real day off.
A little time to think and gather myself, plus a few conversations with my graduate colleagues and some of my private students, have brought the article below back to my mind:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2011/12/07/143265882/vowels-control-your-brain?sc=fb&cc=fp
The gist of the article is this: front vowels ([i], [I], [e], [E]) tend to imply smallness or lightness, and back vowels ([u], [o], [a]) tend to imply heaviness or largeness. Obviously, this isn't completely universal, but there are definitely some pretty convincing examples in the article.
What does this have to do with solfa, you ask? Well...I have a bit of a pet theory that I can't exactly prove yet that Guido's choice of syllables (and the later evolution of our modern syllables, including chromatics) wasn't merely coincidental with the beginning of each line of the chant Ut queant laxis. I believe the syllables were chosen intuitively and intentionally to phonetically represent both the tendencies and the relative placement of each tone. Furthermore, I believe these vowel choices had some impact on the evolution from a modal to a tonal system.
Here's what I mean -- the original six syllables were ut, re, mi, fa, so, & la. If we go strictly by the rubric above, ut, fa, so, and la fall into the category of back vowels, and re & mi belong to the front vowel category. I would argue that Guido's Italianate [a] would have been more toward the bright (front) side, especially in the case of la, since the dental [l] pulls the tongue forward (resulting in a more fronted vowel). Let's leave fa in the back vowel camp for now, and assume that we now have this situation:
ut (heavy)
re (light)
mi (light)
fa (heavy)
so (heavy)
la (light)
or in the more modern system:
Now, as speakers of American-accented English, we pronounce these syllables differently, so they feel a little different to us, and our pronunciation idiosyncrasies create intonation issues different from the ones likely encountered in 11th-century Italy. If we think carefully about our pronunciation, however, the tendencies of these vowels reflect the proper intonation for a major scale, especially if we designate the vowel [o] as "stable" rather than "heavy" (which seems an allowable substitution to me):
The Universe gave me the unexpected gift of a snow day yesterday -- despite my disappointment in the cancellation/delay of conference events at my British Studies gig, I must confess how badly I'd needed a real day off.
A little time to think and gather myself, plus a few conversations with my graduate colleagues and some of my private students, have brought the article below back to my mind:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2011/12/07/143265882/vowels-control-your-brain?sc=fb&cc=fp
The gist of the article is this: front vowels ([i], [I], [e], [E]) tend to imply smallness or lightness, and back vowels ([u], [o], [a]) tend to imply heaviness or largeness. Obviously, this isn't completely universal, but there are definitely some pretty convincing examples in the article.
What does this have to do with solfa, you ask? Well...I have a bit of a pet theory that I can't exactly prove yet that Guido's choice of syllables (and the later evolution of our modern syllables, including chromatics) wasn't merely coincidental with the beginning of each line of the chant Ut queant laxis. I believe the syllables were chosen intuitively and intentionally to phonetically represent both the tendencies and the relative placement of each tone. Furthermore, I believe these vowel choices had some impact on the evolution from a modal to a tonal system.
Here's what I mean -- the original six syllables were ut, re, mi, fa, so, & la. If we go strictly by the rubric above, ut, fa, so, and la fall into the category of back vowels, and re & mi belong to the front vowel category. I would argue that Guido's Italianate [a] would have been more toward the bright (front) side, especially in the case of la, since the dental [l] pulls the tongue forward (resulting in a more fronted vowel). Let's leave fa in the back vowel camp for now, and assume that we now have this situation:
ut (heavy)
re (light)
mi (light)
fa (heavy)
so (heavy)
la (light)
or in the more modern system:
do (heavy)
re (light)
mi (light)
fa (heavy)
so (heavy)
la (light)
ti (light)
Now, as speakers of American-accented English, we pronounce these syllables differently, so they feel a little different to us, and our pronunciation idiosyncrasies create intonation issues different from the ones likely encountered in 11th-century Italy. If we think carefully about our pronunciation, however, the tendencies of these vowels reflect the proper intonation for a major scale, especially if we designate the vowel [o] as "stable" rather than "heavy" (which seems an allowable substitution to me):
do (stable)
re (light) (note that the resulting do-re-mi 3rd should be wide)
mi (light)
fa (heavy)
so (stable)
la (light)
ti (light)
If this theory holds water, it casts some significant doubts on the pedagogical wisdom of both fixed-do solfege (where the vowels are at least partly contradictory of correct intonation in all keys except C) and do-based minor (where the syllables me, le, & te are used to denote the lowered 3rd, 6th, and 7th scale degrees in minor, and each has a vowel that still implies "highness" -- la to le being particularly egregious). In my earlier years, I felt much more absolute about all this. These days, I'm more willing to acknowledge that vowel influence is probably much stronger for some people than it is for others. However, from an acoustical standpoint, this all seems to hold up, too, and if physical fact gives one system even a small advantage over another, I think that's worth acknowledging. If vowels can suggest to ear and voice that two notes have a certain relationship to one another, why not use the power of suggestion to our students' advantage?
I'm curious to know what you all think about this, and I'd like you to try it out and let me know:
All Levels
Read the NPR article and all my verbiage above.
Track down your Ottman book and read some examples that come easily for you (ch. 2-9, as appropriate). The first time through, sing without thinking much about the syllables -- just sing as you normally would. The second time through, be extremely sensitive to your pronunciation of each syllable. Does your intonation improve? Do you feel an increased sensitivity to the proper intonation of each syllable/interval? If you like, choose a few examples in minor and try singing them once in do-based minor and once in la-based minor, both times with a strong focus on pronunciation. Was it hard to get the intonation of the lowered scale degrees correct in do-based minor? Try singing an example or two in fixed-do (no chromatic inflections, meaning that F-flat, F, and F-sharp are all called fa), still with an eye towards pronunciation. What happens to your intonation?
I'm really quite curious to hear what you discover...
Saturday, January 28, 2012
A Farewell to Agony
Greetings, dear students!
Now, before anyone panics, I'm talking about self-inflicted agony here. This isn't the kind of agony that can't be avoided, the kind that comes from outside. This is the kind of agony we bring upon ourselves by fixating on all the wrong stuff:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2ZWZqTD5Hg&feature=related
In general, I'm sort of a chronic agonizer....I've talked about the symptoms lots of times, and I know many of us could cop to the same sort of thing: something complex or unexpected happens, and we spend endless amounts of time thinking about why it happened, whose fault it is, all the various ways we could respond, the possible consequences of each of those responses, all the things we'd like to do about it but probably shouldn't, etc. It's crazy-making. It seems to be one of my favorite pastimes. And I think it's time to quit.
So, four weeks into the new year, I'm determined to make this something I work on: giving up on agony. This is hard, because I know for a fact that the processes behind my agonizing (attention to detail, a propensity for empathy, the desire for clear communication) aren't bad human qualities at all, and in fact, they've played a huge role in my personal and professional success. But, they're kind of like tonsils as Bill Cosby used to describe them in his stand-up routines -- tonsils are like big security guards armed with bazookas that stand guard against germs, but sometimes something goes wrong and they join the other side. Tonsillectomy, as I learned at the age of four, isn't a pleasant solution, but it's a permanent one. The problem with the other side of this little analogy is that it's not desirable (and probably not possible) to remove qualities like empathy or attention to detail or a desire to understand/be understood, so there's no scalpel involved in the long-term fix...it's got to be a moment-by-moment management kind of thing. I need to find a way to be empathetic, detail-oriented, and a person who desires to communicate clearly, but also to stop myself from obsessing over the stuff in life I can't change or control. This has become clearer to me over the last few days through several performance experiences wherein I almost managed to steal the joy of performing from myself by working myself into a tizzy about the details rather than trusting the process. I don't want to be that guy. I want to be happy. So, if being happy means I have to be brave enough to change, so be it.
I've spoken before about using solfa as a kind of mindfulness exercise, a way to reinforce the kind of thinking that makes us into healthier and happier people. Sight-reading in particular forces us to live in the present and continually move on from any setbacks if we wish to be successful, so I've got some of that on tap for you this week:
All Levels
Before you even go hunting for your Ottman, refresh your own memory as to the procedures behind good sight-singing:
1. Look ahead.
2. Pick a good tempo and maintain it -- conducting is a very good idea!
3. Ground yourself in the key.
4. Keep your eye moving ahead of your voice.
5. If you make a mistake, keep going.
Rising Level 2's
Ottman, ch. 9 is your playground. Pay attention to the character/tempo markings in the book, and try to find examples you don't already know. Read 2-3 examples per day -- I bet you'll find that your strategy gets better between the first and third example of a given day.
Rising Level 3's
Go nuts with Ottman, ch. 12. If you find that you know most of the examples already, expand your search to ch. 11 and include some C-clef examples (you're allowed to pretend you're in a different key if you want). Read 2-3 examples per day.
Rising Level 4's
Take a look at Ottman, ch. 16. The main challenge of this chapter is meant to be rhythmic rather than melodic, but I'd like you to work with the melodic examples (16.37 and up). If you get in over your head in terms of chromaticism, you have my permission to backtrack. Read 2-3 examples per day.
Good luck, dear students!
Now, before anyone panics, I'm talking about self-inflicted agony here. This isn't the kind of agony that can't be avoided, the kind that comes from outside. This is the kind of agony we bring upon ourselves by fixating on all the wrong stuff:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2ZWZqTD5Hg&feature=related
In general, I'm sort of a chronic agonizer....I've talked about the symptoms lots of times, and I know many of us could cop to the same sort of thing: something complex or unexpected happens, and we spend endless amounts of time thinking about why it happened, whose fault it is, all the various ways we could respond, the possible consequences of each of those responses, all the things we'd like to do about it but probably shouldn't, etc. It's crazy-making. It seems to be one of my favorite pastimes. And I think it's time to quit.
So, four weeks into the new year, I'm determined to make this something I work on: giving up on agony. This is hard, because I know for a fact that the processes behind my agonizing (attention to detail, a propensity for empathy, the desire for clear communication) aren't bad human qualities at all, and in fact, they've played a huge role in my personal and professional success. But, they're kind of like tonsils as Bill Cosby used to describe them in his stand-up routines -- tonsils are like big security guards armed with bazookas that stand guard against germs, but sometimes something goes wrong and they join the other side. Tonsillectomy, as I learned at the age of four, isn't a pleasant solution, but it's a permanent one. The problem with the other side of this little analogy is that it's not desirable (and probably not possible) to remove qualities like empathy or attention to detail or a desire to understand/be understood, so there's no scalpel involved in the long-term fix...it's got to be a moment-by-moment management kind of thing. I need to find a way to be empathetic, detail-oriented, and a person who desires to communicate clearly, but also to stop myself from obsessing over the stuff in life I can't change or control. This has become clearer to me over the last few days through several performance experiences wherein I almost managed to steal the joy of performing from myself by working myself into a tizzy about the details rather than trusting the process. I don't want to be that guy. I want to be happy. So, if being happy means I have to be brave enough to change, so be it.
I've spoken before about using solfa as a kind of mindfulness exercise, a way to reinforce the kind of thinking that makes us into healthier and happier people. Sight-reading in particular forces us to live in the present and continually move on from any setbacks if we wish to be successful, so I've got some of that on tap for you this week:
All Levels
Before you even go hunting for your Ottman, refresh your own memory as to the procedures behind good sight-singing:
1. Look ahead.
2. Pick a good tempo and maintain it -- conducting is a very good idea!
3. Ground yourself in the key.
4. Keep your eye moving ahead of your voice.
5. If you make a mistake, keep going.
Rising Level 2's
Ottman, ch. 9 is your playground. Pay attention to the character/tempo markings in the book, and try to find examples you don't already know. Read 2-3 examples per day -- I bet you'll find that your strategy gets better between the first and third example of a given day.
Rising Level 3's
Go nuts with Ottman, ch. 12. If you find that you know most of the examples already, expand your search to ch. 11 and include some C-clef examples (you're allowed to pretend you're in a different key if you want). Read 2-3 examples per day.
Rising Level 4's
Take a look at Ottman, ch. 16. The main challenge of this chapter is meant to be rhythmic rather than melodic, but I'd like you to work with the melodic examples (16.37 and up). If you get in over your head in terms of chromaticism, you have my permission to backtrack. Read 2-3 examples per day.
Good luck, dear students!
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 14, 2012
Higher Ground
Hello, Solfa People!
So, courtesy of the 2009 Conspirare holiday album, I've had Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground" stuck in my head for days, especially the chorus:
I'm so darn glad he let me try it again,
'Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin,
I'm so glad now I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin' 'til I reach my highest ground.
It's a good general walking-around tune for sure, and possibly an even better one for this time of year full of freshly-made resolutions. I get especially black-and-white about my resolutions sometimes, and one little slip-up on one lofty goal or another causes me to abandon the whole effort. This is more than a little childish, but I think this happens to everyone -- we get terribly dualistic and hard on ourselves, and we sabotage our own best efforts by believing that we have to be completely successful or completely unsuccessful.
So, this post is especially dedicated to those of you who maybe haven't worked on solfa in months and months, or who did it for awhile and got behind, and even to those of you who have been pretty consistent. It's ok to miss a day, a week, a month....and even missing more than that doesn't mean that you should abandon any idea of working on your skills between now and July. You can try it again any time -- falling off the wagon can be just an isolated incident. It doesn't have to be the end of the world. Every moment is a new chance to start reaching for your highest ground. In fact, it is only in each moment that we have the chance. So, forget about what you didn't do yesterday or last week or last month. Right now still belongs to you.
All Levels
Seek out your Ottman and your tuning fork, and put them someplace visible -- a coffee table or end table might be a good spot. Remember, you can get your daily 15 minutes of solfa in during the commercial breaks of an hour-long network television show -- you just have to hit the mute button.
Rising Level 2's
Check out these longish examples, and work through one a day. Be sure to find the key from your tuning fork, and to work intentionally on any snags:
8.44
8.46
9.3
9.15
9.36
9.37
Rising Level 3's
You have the same marching orders as the 2's, but with these examples instead:
14.26 (the D-sharp is "di")
14.28
14.29
14.31
14.32 (despite its ending, this piece is in D)
14.33
For all examples above, I stay in the same key, but you're welcome to experiment with changing if that helps!
Rising Level 4's
Your instructions are also the same as the 2's, and you also get your own examples to play with:
14.38
14.40
14.41
14.42
14.43
14.44
In each case, the choice of whether to change keys or not is up to you!
Carpe diem, my dear students! It's time to try again.
So, courtesy of the 2009 Conspirare holiday album, I've had Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground" stuck in my head for days, especially the chorus:
I'm so darn glad he let me try it again,
'Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin,
I'm so glad now I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin' 'til I reach my highest ground.
It's a good general walking-around tune for sure, and possibly an even better one for this time of year full of freshly-made resolutions. I get especially black-and-white about my resolutions sometimes, and one little slip-up on one lofty goal or another causes me to abandon the whole effort. This is more than a little childish, but I think this happens to everyone -- we get terribly dualistic and hard on ourselves, and we sabotage our own best efforts by believing that we have to be completely successful or completely unsuccessful.
So, this post is especially dedicated to those of you who maybe haven't worked on solfa in months and months, or who did it for awhile and got behind, and even to those of you who have been pretty consistent. It's ok to miss a day, a week, a month....and even missing more than that doesn't mean that you should abandon any idea of working on your skills between now and July. You can try it again any time -- falling off the wagon can be just an isolated incident. It doesn't have to be the end of the world. Every moment is a new chance to start reaching for your highest ground. In fact, it is only in each moment that we have the chance. So, forget about what you didn't do yesterday or last week or last month. Right now still belongs to you.
All Levels
Seek out your Ottman and your tuning fork, and put them someplace visible -- a coffee table or end table might be a good spot. Remember, you can get your daily 15 minutes of solfa in during the commercial breaks of an hour-long network television show -- you just have to hit the mute button.
Rising Level 2's
Check out these longish examples, and work through one a day. Be sure to find the key from your tuning fork, and to work intentionally on any snags:
8.44
8.46
9.3
9.15
9.36
9.37
Rising Level 3's
You have the same marching orders as the 2's, but with these examples instead:
14.26 (the D-sharp is "di")
14.28
14.29
14.31
14.32 (despite its ending, this piece is in D)
14.33
For all examples above, I stay in the same key, but you're welcome to experiment with changing if that helps!
Rising Level 4's
Your instructions are also the same as the 2's, and you also get your own examples to play with:
14.38
14.40
14.41
14.42
14.43
14.44
In each case, the choice of whether to change keys or not is up to you!
Carpe diem, my dear students! It's time to try again.
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!
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