Just a Thought...

I was recently re-reading the introduction to This is Your Brain on Music by Daniel J. Levitin. While I find most of the book fascinating and informative, I raise an eyebrow at a passage in the first chapter.

"To non-musicians, terms such as diatonic, cadence, or even key and pitch can throw up an unnecessary barrier. Musicians and critics sometimes appear to live behind a veil of technical terms that can sound pretentious. How many times have you read a concert review in the newspaper and found you have no idea what the reviewer is saying? "Her sustained appoggiatura was flawed by an inability to complete the roulade." Or, "I can't believe they modulated to C-sharp minor! How ridiculous!" What we really want to know is whether the music was performed in a way that moved the audience. Whether the singer seemed to inhabit the character she was singing about. You might want the reviewer to compare tonight's performance to that of a previous night or a different ensemble. We're usually interested in the music, not the technical devices that were used. We wouldn't stand for it if a restaurant reviewer started to speculate about the precise temperature at which the chef introduced the lemon juice in a hollandaise sauce, or if a film critic talked about aperture of the lens that the cinematographer used; we shouldn't stand for it in music, either."

This frustrated me on several levels. Allow me to list them.

1) Every field has jargon, from law to medicine to architecture to photography. To act as though the use of musical jargon is a deliberate attempt to exclude others is ridiculous. What is wrong, in one who understands the mechanics of music, from wanting to understand, appreciate, and explain their musical experiences in technical terms? Music criticism in the newspaper cannot simply tell you day after day that the singer was believable as Salome, and that the audience was moved. Readers are looking for more than individualistic emotional descriptions. It is absolutely wonderful if the performance brought tears to your eyes (indeed, that sort of reaction is why we do it!), but such personal experiences with music do not translate well to objective journalism and criticism.

2) I have never once read a sentence in a review complaining that "Her sustained appoggiatura was flawed by an inability to complete the roulade." I can only see this sort of sentence showing up in a specialized publication-one for early music performance practice, perhaps-and in that case, jargon should be used since it is intended for an audience who understands it.

When directed to a broad audience, jargon has to be used properly, of course. Anybody who's spent any time with Milton Babbitt knows that there are musicians and composers out there who believe that "If it's art, it isn't for all; If it's for all, it isn't art." This line of thought is deliberately intended to confuse the layman and speak only to those who have spent a great deal of time studying the technical aspects of music, and as such their works and writings are often relegated to the University library. If used properly, jargon should seek to add depth without confusion; a nod to those who understand it. Besides, most people reading classical reviews in the newspaper are those that, even if they are non-musicians, are the type to spend a lot of time with the music and will likely learn the jargon simply be being immersed in it.

3) "We're usually interested in the music, not the technical devices that were used." This sort of talk is belittling to those who spend their life studying it. As if we should be made to apologize for developing complex jargon to describe musical processes. Music is a complex subject! Attempting to understand it gave rise to theory, and can employ acoustical physics, historical contextualization, and neurological studies! 

I think this statement also belittles the average audience member. The same statement could be made of anything:

"We're usually interested in the building, not the architectural devices that were used to construct it."

"We're usually interested in the gourmet food, not the ingredients that were used to create those complex flavors." 

"We're usually interested in the Mona Lisa, not the techniques and brush strokes that were used to paint her."

Yes, we tend to be primarily concerned with the surface appeal. "That's a beautiful building. This dinner is fantastic." But, as a curious person, I soon want to know more about how it was constructed. I've tracked down articles about when to introduce the lemon juice to the hollandaise sauce (particularly of interest since hollandaise is liable to break unless executed properly). I watch Alton Brown because he gives me reasons. Instead of just spouting the recipe, he tells me the chemical reactions that make the recipe work, or fail. The example of the cinematographer's aperture setting might be of interest, if it's used to highlight why the film had such a distinctive look.

I suppose this is the main reason I was upset by this excerpt. It assumes so little of the audience, and begins by accusing the music makers of deliberate pretentiousness, as if we get some esoteric kick out of confusing non-musicians. If you're looking for a simple emotional reaction to a concert, go to the concert yourself and write about it in your Facebook status. Don't expect critics to dumb down their jargon. Jargon is used to give depth and dimension, and I, for one, would be appalled to see the result of taking it all out of our journalism.

Youtube Video of the Day

I have a bit of an obsession with videos that feature music made with non-musical instruments. Tan Dun partially sparked this with his concerto for paper.

But this one is far more fun, since it uses only the sounds of tools being struck and used.

Screenshot from said video.

There's something innately satisfying about listening to these types of videos. I love the raw percussive impact, and it is proof that instruments are in the eye of the concert-goer.

This is why Stomp is so beloved. Here's some more examples of my favorite non-standard instruments achieving great things:

~How about a guy that plays the melody of a Mozart Symphony with rollerblades and wine bottles?
~Or one who plays Mozart on Root Beer Bottles? Granted, this one is heavily edited, but the work that went into it is astonishing, and the result is purely awesome.
~Or insanity on crystal glasses? I can barely get one to sound, let alone an entire tableful!

Musical Quotation.

Singing is like a celebration of oxygen.

-Björk

Stradivarius

This is a short article on the Smithsonian site about utilizing CT scanning on Stradivarius violins and the instruments of his contemporaries to attempt to distinguish physical characteristics

I've known of researchers chipping off varnish to analyze the chemical compounds, others who swear it's the types and seasoning of the wood that creates the sound. The most exciting thing about the research being done with the CT scanner is they can analyze the exact thickness of the wood at all parts, measure the volume of air inside the body, and take measurements they were never able to do without either guesswork or taking apart the instrument (which nobody wants to do with a Strad, because once you put it back together you've likely ruined its superior sound forever!).

I played a Strad once. I was a freshman in high school. The Baroque Violin Shop had one at the OMEA convention. I played Malaguena or some other silly thing. I probably sounded awful. But even my playing at that age was instantly elevated by this thing. I don't want to attribute any mythical properties to any one instrument, but people often wonder how it is that a violin can sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars while one can buy many other professional level instruments for a tenth of the cost. Instrument value is determined by the reputation of its maker, its age and condition, and its sound, though this last count is incredibly subjective. I've played $3000 dollar instruments I've liked better than $30,000 instruments. 

The other issue is that the violin has to fit your technique. If you're a kid taking lessons, the $30,000 violin's response could be so quick it's a little disorienting because you haven't developed the muscular reflexes to work with that (I've experienced that many times. As I improve, I'm able to sound exponentially better on a more expensive instrument). It's also a matter of developing a relationship with your instrument. After you've been playing one for a time, your muscle memory becomes acquainted with where the harmonics lie. There's a personal fit that has to occur. Some people like a wide neck on the violin; mine is comparatively thin. I like the facility I have with shifting as a result.

It's like living together. You know all the faults of your instrument, but you are in this permanent (or at least long-term) arrangement. For example, the instrument I used to have had an incredibly brilliant sound on the e string. It was clear and sweet, and when I go back to it today I'm shocked at how good it sounds up there with just a little vibrato. But the g string was terrible. Past third position, it was so cloudy and uneven that there was no coaxing a good sound out of it. My current instrument is more balanced overall, but less brilliant in the upper register. It has a wolf on the high C on the G string. And it resonates well in the extremities but I have to work harder to get the same sound on the middle strings.

The thing that makes violins and other stringed instruments so fragile is their material. Wood expands and contracts due to changes in temperature and humidity, and not only that, the wood is thin to allow for interior vibration. A well-made instrument must not buckle under changes; though improper care from the owner can lead to open seams and cracks. 

Of course, no matter how well-made the violin, there are so many other factors that can influence one's sound: the brand of strings you use, placement of the interior sound post, the interior volume of the instrument where the sound resonates, amount of bow hair in contact with the string, too taut or too loose of a bow, the material of the bow (carbon fiber vs. pernambuco wood), how much rosin is on your bow (which has an effect on the amount of friction generated between the horsehair and the string), even the style of shoulder rest (I've heard that this can have a slight impact on the vibration of the body due to the way they clip to the sides of the instrument). Not to mention all the technique they teach you to in order to achieve a particular sound!

Interesting side note: Pernambuco is toxic, and many bow makers die young (40s and 50s) from lifetime exposure to the wood shavings. I learned that on a tour of a bow making school. I have a carbon fiber bow. I prefer it because it does not warp in humid weather. I like its consistency and lightness, though my bow in particular is rather finicky for spiccato and tremolo strokes. It has to be just so, in about an inch of bow. I don't have a lot of room to maneuver.

And if you were wondering, I do listen to Stratovarius, the band. I posted on here once about my love of the song Stratofortress. First of all, that is one of the most hilariously metal song titles ever. Secondly, it uses harpsichord (or at least, a synthesized harpsichord).

Idle Chatter about Notjustmoreidlechatter

I've been flipping through my iTunes because I'm working on a mix for somebody I love, and I rediscovered my deep love of Paul Lansky's Notjustmoreidlechatter (all one word).

The piece is so fragmented-and could easily easily be duplicated in this modern computer age. But he composed the piece by fragmenting voice samples and re-arranging them on cassette in 1988. It sounds so modern, like it was composed this year. It impresses me because it sounds so soothing, and yet it's a collection of chaotic clips.

It seems an appropriate aural description of the modern era. Information flies at us so quickly we may not even have time to process the flow of ideas. Our generation is one raised on instant gratification. We are the generation that saw video games become a multibillion dollar industry. We saw the advent of social networking and as youngsters conversed with our school friends through AIM instead of a phone call. Our vocabularies consist of words like "multi-task."We grew up with pop music where the intonation could be fixed with the touch of a button, where a voice could be created almost entirely in a studio. We watched MTV, we used search engines, and we watched as Amazon and Ebay proved that just about anything can and will sell through the internet. We tweet, we text, we friend and un-friend, we announce to the world that "it's complicated" or that we are engaged.

With a click of a mouse, I can download custom content for my Sims game while I listen to Cambodian rock music on my iTunes and I check the temperature in my city and look up the song lyrics to a Björk song and make a grocery list on an iPod touch with recipes gleaned from Epicurious.com. I can look up the name to that Billy Collins poem I kept thinking about by typing the line I had stuck in my head. I can find my apartment building on Google maps and read the menu to a new restaurant to decide if I want to eat there. I can find a toy I used to play with as a child by searching for it under vintage (ouch) items on Ebay or Etsy.

I mean, good god. Have you ever stopped and thought about how many things you can do? I've been researching video game music for a paper (the paper topic was sort of a present to myself, I know), and when I look at system capabilities from only 15 years ago, I'm astounded at how quickly it improved and how seamlessly it all integrated into our lives. I think about when I was in elementary school and the classroom computer was used only to play Oregon Trail and Number Munchers (does anybody else remember that game?). Now you can pull up a youtube video of a symphony orchestra performance in a general music class, and even write directly on the screen of a Smartboard. You can surf the internet on a fiber optic network and buy external hard drives that store TERABYTES of data.

When you think about how quickly you learn how to adapt and integrate, it's sort of shocking and amazing.

I strayed quite far from the musical content...Paul Lansky's piece to me, is the perfect commentary on all of these things I have been talking about. The sampling of human voices so that they sound computerized, or lost in the shuffle of information exchange. The voices are unintelligible and numerous. They make me think of the millions of people who are able to connect through the internet, talk, share, fight, romance, comment...there's a din of human communication through completely non-sentient means. Does it matter that we can't discern a "text?" I don't think so. I think the fragmentation is familiar, it's comfortable. We're used to living lives completely enveloped in technology, the way the sound of this piece envelopes us in its eclectic musical line.

Channeling Ghost World

There was such a cool, unattainable quality to the characters in the film adaptation of Ghost World. I certainly didn't want to be Enid. Her creepy fascination with Seymour, her complete lack of ambition-but I wanted to inhabit her thrifted wardrobe (particularly her perfect thick-rimmed glasses) and look through her record collection.

She had the most indie music collection ever. When I think of the indie kids today trying to fight over which bands they discovered first, abandoning favorites once they attain any sort of following...all the posing, the hipster mentality with its American Apparel giant sunglasses. Enid was the type of indie kid I would have wanted to be in high school. Listening to obscure vinyl from our grandparents' generation.

The soundtrack is one of my favorites ever created for a film. It's eclectic, with old scratchy blues gems (Skip James "Devil Got My Woman" is my definition of blues) and 60s Bollywood. The cd had me at Jaan Pehechaan Ho, Mohammed Rafi's so-mod-60s-spy-movie-it-hurts track from Gumnaam. The Lionel Belasco and Vince Giordano tracks also charmed me completely. But, it was always Jaan Pehechaan Ho that captivated me. Though Enid was fictional, I wanted to be somebody cool enough to find foreign gems. But there's always been something about world music that has intimidated me.

In this culture, I know how to look for new music that I like. I know my way around a record store and can reasonably locate what I'm looking for. But drop me into a world music section and I chicken out. I don't take the same risks, since I don't have a lot of money to spend on such things. It wouldn't be so hard if I had one starting place-a band or a friend who knows the music and can lead me along the primrose path.

Ethnomusicology has given me a few tracks to love, though it remains to be seen whether I will fall for entire catalogs of artists or just one catchy song. Angelique Kidjo is one that has been promising. The first track that hooked me was Tumba off of her Black Ivory Soul album. None of the live ones I found live up to the sheer excitement of the actual track. Her collaboration with Joss Stone on Gimme Shelter also made me sit up and take notice. I've had a crush on Joss' voice ever since I got a free download of a live version of Tell Me Bout It.

There's been other, isolated tracks. Anoushka Shankar's Red Sun is just so wonderfully virtuosic and hip. I love the whole feel of it.

The long winded point I will eventually make is that I have recently found two albums of foreign music that I love dearly. The first was something John picked up. One of his co-workers had suggested Dengue Fever to him. Not the actual disease, the band that mixes Cambodian pop with psychedelic rock. John stumbled across an album (Dengue Fever Presents Electric Cambodia) by them at the record store. The vinyl is cream colored, which I love endlessly. I am a sucker for colored vinyl.

Once we brought it home, we realized it was a compilation album of Cambodian pop music from the 60s and 70s, not original material from the band. Does it matter? No. This album kicks ass. There is not a single song on the album I don't completely adore. The great thing is the tracks were rescued from cassette. They aren't easy to find on youtube or online (unless you get the compilation). The only video I can post to approximate the awesomeness is this one.

Pan Ron, featured heavily on Electric Cambodia.

The second album to rock my world? I'll have to post about it later. I have to get ready for a performance and if I begin to wax poetic about it, I will be late. I will say that it's another compilation of 60s music, but this time from Thailand.

The point? I finally, at 23, feel like Enid. A little bit. I won't be dying my hair green at any point, but at least I can begin to approach a more eclectic music collection.

Fun Facts I have learned in the midst of Paper Research

1. The original "ping" sound effect in Pong was created by Atari engineer Al Alcorn, from an amplified waveform from the game's own circuitry. Interesting, no?

2. Arvo Part's Sarah was Ninety Years Old was originally premiered by a pregnant singer! This is significant because the title refers to the biblical Sarah, who through a miracle gave birth at an extremely advanced age.

3. Computer disk storage units are as follows, from smallest to largest: bit, byte, kilobyte, megabyte, gigabyte, terabyte, petabyte, exabyte, zettabyte, BRONTOBYTE. Am I alone in seeing that and immediately thinking BRONTOSAURUS*?

*I can't be. There's no way I'm the only one.

4. Tintinnabuli is not functional harmony. It sounds diatonic, but it lacks the directional impetus of the tonic/dominant relationship, choosing instead to rely on quasi-stasis in harmonic material. I suppose this isn't really news to me. But I never really thought about it because the music is so lulling with its virtual lack of dissonance.

5. Schoenberg had triskaidekaphobia.

6. Nobuo Uematsu utilizes Wagnerian-style leitmotif in his compositions for the various Squaresoft Final Fantasy games.

Food for Thought

“It’s like a traffic jam. Sometimes we don’t even hear that there’s music playing. That’s the worst thing. We don’t hear the sounds any more, because we’ve built a protective wall around us. We don’t really need to hear that much music. It would be better to listen to just a little, the right kind of music, and to understand that fully.”

-Arvo Pärt

Sunday Afternoon Reflections

I've been listening to a lot of Pärt's music lately...I've been researching for a paper on his music, and so while I read and take notes I've had several pieces on as a vivid reminder of what I'm working with.


This particular incarnation of Spiegel im Spiegel is one of my favorites. The piece is made up of tonic triads that repeat with little directed movement as in functional (i.e. common practice) harmony. There is motion, but Pärt manages to create a sense of timelessness and of tranquility. The stillness is neither stagnant nor unsettling; it is not a silence of despair or existential contemplation.


If I remember my high school German properly, that title translates to "Mirror within mirror". Perhaps, typical of Pärt, the mirror could represent contemplation of God and the divine. Humans being made in God's image and their attempts to mimic good works in honor of God. It would be an easy argument. However, the title could also be evocative of individual experience and contemplation-personal interaction with the work as it unfolds. I get the sense when I'm listening that it's ok that my mind is wandering. Pärt's music does not hit you upside the head and tell you to pay attention. It is there if you seek it but it does not evangelize.


That seems incredibly counter to most of my musical experience. The idea that you don't have to interact with the piece in an active, participatory way in order for it to be effective. It just is. An aural space to reflect...does anybody see where I'm going with this?


Frikkin' John Adams. On the Transmigration of Souls. If you're not familiar, the piece was written after 9-11. Its text is derived from missing persons posters from around Ground Zero. Names of the missing people are read quietly as a chorus drones in the background (there's more to the piece, such as an awesomely poignant quote from Ives' The Unanswered Question, but just go take a listen and I'll make my point here). Adams has famously referred to the piece as a "memory space"; a musical place for reflection. I find the piece completely haunting, and at times the piece interferes with any individual contemplation I might attempt. But the approach is similar, the concept of creating a moving-yet-timeless musical space.


How many 20th century composers have utilized this technique? Certainly the minimalists have the spare quality necessary, but many see the minimalist music of the 60s and 70s to be fiercely repetitive. The music of Pärt, and Adams' On the Transmigration of Souls seem to take the aesthetic a step further. 


Rather than state, I have nothing to say, and I'm saying it, and that is poetry (John Cage), these pieces seem more zen. The music just is. It unfolds, and you can interact with it however you choose. I think Paul Hillier summed it up quite well in his book Arvo Pärt: "The content of such art moves before us as in a procession, one thing after another; whatever particular detail may be foremost at any given moment, the procession is always simply there, and will continue until it is over: it does not have to get anywhere else-it has no appointments to keep."


What do you think? Am I crazy to draw this parallel between Pärt and Adams? Do you get the same sense listening to these pieces?

The Great Discussion

There has been some awesome discourse via Matt Wascher, who I did my undergrad with. I put up this post and he actually responded, which I'm not used to on this tiny, tiny blog. I think he and I share a lot of ideas about music in general, seeing as I am not butting heads with his comments. I thought I'd move the discourse to another entry and chime in again.

Matt asked what I made of the "cult of genius," where classical institutions label particular musicians in history as a "genius" It plays into antiquated ideas from German romanticism. Humanism was the big thing, and great works of art elevated those who created them. This in itself isn't a bad thing. But it also creates issues with categorization and leaves the rest of the composers, the "not-geniuses," in the dust (such as Salieri being thought of as not-Mozart instead of considered for his vast popularity in his day).

This is how I originally responded:
I don't know where I stand on it. Conflicted yet proud of my classical training. After all, the discipline inherent in the system is character-building. It's important to learn good technique so that you can have the freedom to move past it and make your own artistic decisions. And part of that has to do with the music you want to perform.

There's so much out there that it takes a long time to go beyond the indoctrinated canon, but that's ok. You have to start somewhere, and I do think that generally, cliches in music do happen for a reason. After all, it's Beethoven's 5th we know and love, but that doesn't mean we hold all his pieces in the same esteem. We do not generally hear his Wellington's Victory (which was really famous in its day but today is ignored as a piece with little substance). I think the classical canon has its faults, but the faults are more of exclusion than what has been chosen and validated. The pieces there are incredible works of art.

I do feel, however, that the classical canon reflects a disturbing point: musicology as a discipline originated in Germany, which could be partially to blame for the prominence of German composers in the canon. In reading about composers from other countries, I'm forced to ask what I've missed out on.

I guess my opinion of the cult of genius is that it, like everything, has been incredibly subjective. The bearded white dudes have decided the pantheon of composers and we've been along for the ride. I suppose one reason I want to be a musicologist is to examine the questions that nag me about music that I can't answer through performance. Another reason is because there are so many things about the institutions that uphold this music that I don't agree with...and upon which I like to ruminate through this blog and in my grad papers.


Matt gave a lot of response to this. One snippet I thought was particularly of interest:


I've come to think the reason we believe that Mozart should be played differently than Beethoven is that we place a premium on trying to understand the thinking and decipher the intent of composers. Is music about what a composer was intending or what I, with whatever notions and biases I might have, get from the music regardless of what the composer might have thought? Our training certainly leans toward the former, though a more cynical view might be that it is simply necessary as it makes music, which cannot really be objectively judged for value, more restrictive and better allows a class of elite musicians to have market value and survive.


To this, my most powerful example is that of violinists playing unaccompanied Bach. On one end of the spectrum, you get Rachel Podger, who plays on a period instrument with period tunings. Her reconstruction is beautiful. It has so much buoyancy and brings the spirit of the dance to the music.


But, in my training, I have had several teachers say they don't believe Bach needs to be historically accurate in performance. They place it outside of the burden of performance practice. Several teachers have said that the ultimate beauty of this music is that, although we're playing it at A 400 with a modern carbon fiber bow and steel strings, the music is just as effective when it's performed well. Certain things about the technique will not change; you still have to approach the chords the same way to give the proper voicing to the line, etc. So in some cases, the more things change, the more they stay the same. 


I agree with both sides. I like having variety, I like having a new approach to music I've known all my life. But just because I heard Rachel Podger doesn't mean I can't discredit somebody like Hilary Hahn, whose recording I heard first in the sixth grade. She captivated me and I will always hear the unaccompanied Bach through a Hilary Hahn filter because of the incredible impact that recording had on me.


And isn't that the point? She wasn't using Rachel Podger's authentic instruments and tunings, but both recordings completely resonated with me. In the end, sometimes I care about composer intent, and sometimes I just want to turn my brain off and just enjoy music in the present tense without the benefit of my academic thought process, because my teachers were right; there's something about certain pieces that does seem to transcend technique and intellectual schools of performance. The pieces survive regardless of how they are performed, so on some level, the end question is simply whether the performance was effective, not whether it was correct. There is no right answer, and yet most of the answers manage to be correct somehow.

Help I'm Alive-Metric

For some reason, she looks a little like Keira Knightley in this pic. Does anybody else see that too? Am I crazy?

Many thanks to Taylor for the subject of today's post. I hadn't heard of Metric before last night.

This is just the sort of music I wish were more popular. Why do we instead have fourteen year old Disney Mouseketeers and American Idol rejects running the music industry?

They sort of reminded me of The Sounds in their rock vs. pop sensibilities, the inclusion of electronic elements with fun guitar riffs. It's pure fun to listen to. If you aren't into the sounds, but would like to be, here's some great examples:

Channeling Blondie a little...

...don't you think?

Mine for Life
This has always been my favorite, for one silly detail; the modulation between 3:38 to 3:45, that modulates again at 4:00 and at 4:16. It just makes me happy. I also love the layering during the chorus.
Queen of Apology
Pure catchy. Catchy in its undiluted, purest form.

They are more unapologetically electronic in their aesthetic. They remind me of Blondie in their 80s tinged fashions, the lone woman fronting a band of dudes, the tinges of new wave pop modernized. I saw them at the Grog Shop and it was a great concert. Maja Ivarsson is a hottie with great vocal stylings.

I want her boots...

Annnnnnyways, back to Metric. They are Canadian (score). Perhaps it's just having a hockey-fan-fiance, but Canadian things seem infinitely cooler to me. They have a better national anthem, for one. I can forgive them Celine Dion and Avril Lavigne because they speak French, have the better view of Niagara Falls, and are excellent at winter sports.

Also, I think I'm discovering a trend in my popular music tastes: bands or performers who know how to make a good acoustic version of their song. Metric fits the bill, rewriting Help I'm Alive for a benefit for Haiti.

What do you think?

Pomplamoose Music

My only complaint with this group is that I never remember how they spell their frikkin' name, so I end up typing it in and seeing results about grapefruit.

My only complaint is that she rarely smiles while singing, no doubt due to intense concentration on being synchronized with previous versions being piped in through her headphones, but still. She has a pretty smile; she should use it more.

Pomplamoose has quite a few things going for it: a gorgeous girl (only the excessively gorgeous can pull off hair that short) with hypnotizing eyes and a songbird voice, a dude that seems to be able to play every instrument known to man who makes hilarious facial expressions, and simple, acoustic-y sound.

They make "video-songs". The idea is, if you hear it, they'll film themselves playing it and put it somewhere in the video. At some point, you'll see them personally making all the parts of the song. I like it. I like how it sheds light on the technique and the amount of layering involved. It's truly a labor of love.

I went to myspace and happily downloaded all their covers (which are free for download) and am now contemplating spending money on their original material. I like what I hear.

For now at least, I can give my full endorsement of their covers. Mrs. Robinson is a lesson in simplicity and elegant style. Mister Sandman is so perfectly idiomatic for her voice it's insane.

Annnnnnd, my personal favorite (and actually the first video of theirs I saw): September by Earth Wind & Fire. You wouldn't think it would work as well as it does without the brass, but it has such lovable quirk. Plus, the video is hilarious. Jack's grandma makes a sassy appearance as a guest dancer, and this puppet stole the show:

Puppet head-banging. He is going to have a headache by the end of this.

This is the kind of music you want to listen to when you're having a bad day. It's like an auditory hug from an adorable indie kid (as opposed to the incredibly frustrating kind).

Slovenian music...that isn't polka?

I perked up when in my Ethnomusicology class, one of the case studies focused on the professor's mother playing Slovene polkas at home. Though I am only part Slovenian, I take it to heart as my ethnicity. In that American sort of way. My grandmother was 100%, but my cultural heritage wasn't exactly passed down in stories of the old country, standing on a chair by my grandmother while she made traditional foods in huge batches without recipes. I often wish it was.

Have you ever wondered where my images come from? Often, I take the first image I find on Google.

Case in point: type "polka" in to your image search. Voila! There this is.

So, I realized that, as a true Clevelander, I should have at least a little affinity for polka. I even know a few words. Beyond that, I am actually pretty ignorant about the motherland.

So when Leo played an example of Slovenian jazz, I was intrigued. Primoz Simoncic, the album, Pieces of Cake.

And, just as I do not claim to be any sort of expert on my own culture, I claim no real knowledge of jazz beyond Paul Ferguson's jazz and popular music course as an undergrad. Which I struggled with. Particularly differentiating bebop. Oy.

Parts of this cd were fascinating, but the overall feel was a little foreign to me. I liked the attempts to incorporate electronic elements with more traditional jazz, but the fusion fell flat at times. Synthesizers, in my humble opinion, are at their best when they're being used for nerdy, stuff-white-people-like sorts of irony a la Drew of Married to the Sea/Toothpaste for Dinner/Superpoop comics.

-Tangent-

Drew is hilarious and I've really been enjoying his videos of late. The first example has an infectious little jam that will have you humming "pitter pitter patter pit" to yourself in the shower. However, if you are creeped out by the idea of Neti pots, you should skip that video. The second example paints the synthesizer enthusiast as a mad scientist. I can see only a certain type of white person finding this video as hilarious as I do. Again, I'm referencing Stuff White People Like. The same type of people enjoy Wes Anderson movies, Stella, and Arrested Development.

Thank you for learning. With Dr. Synthesizer.

-End of Tangent- 

Back to Slovenia.

The electric jazz-fusion had some high points. Night in Tunisia was a standout track. The electric haze gave the slow sax the feeling of 3am in a dark bar, with cigarette smoke clouding the air. It was transporting and it didn't get in the way of the line. Latino? was another favorite. The question mark was apt. It started off with such a cool little piano/sax duet intro before jumping into the latin rhythms that give the track its title. Yet, even at the more upbeat, the piece still maintained its cool aura. I liked that; the tempo increased without making the piece sound frantic. John mentioned that it seemed to have Jobim-esque melody fragments, and I totally agree. Then it just fades into this bizarre cloud of electric guitar. I loved the harmonic opening for LCD, which may have been my favorite track on the album. It starts with this wonderful, bell like harmonic in the guitar, then devolves into this wonderful funk slap-bass riff. Again, without losing the slow, cool feel of the album. The lack of excessive percussion helps this quite a bit. It keeps the overall effect more intimate, more melodic, and incredibly saxophone-centric.  

In general, I liked the slower tracks the most. The ones that gave me such a vivid sense of place. I think I'm going to have to give it all a few more chances before I make any real decisions...

Have you ever had to take your time with an album? Should music be challenging and take time to take apart with multiple listenings? Or should it have immediacy? Or is it good to have some pieces hit you over the head and some worm their way into your heart?

The Taboo of Modern Music

I find it so exciting, and often wonder why it is that symphony orchestras find it so difficult to champion new music, to draw some sort of hipster crowd to the new and avant-garde. I feel like it could be done with the right marketing. Turning away from the suffocating elitism of Western art music. Host a cocktail hour with a talk introducing the piece, so people don't walk in blindly wondering what they're supposed to be listening for. All any music takes to be understood and appreciated is a little bit of exposure, a little explanation and background.

People fear what they do not understand. If the public doesn't understand a modern composition, it is the fault of the performers and conductors for keeping the pieces shrouded in mystery and confusion. If the performer does not find the piece approachable, their audience certainly will not. Be a charming Bernstein of a conductor; get up and say a few words about the piece. Have a pre-concert lecture. Stop locking these composers up in academia. It is the fault of the conservative institutions for not embracing new music as accompaniment to the old, as a part of the continuum, as something that should be an integral part of learning. Learning old music may be technical, but there are so many resources; listening to recordings. With new music, you have to rely on yourself, your internal rhythm, your understanding of pitch relationships regardless of the tonal or atonal framework. This is something our young talent should champion, should be excited to be a part of.

But the rich and moneyed want to hear Beethoven and Mozart. They want tonal. They want pretty. They want white-bread, white-guy, dead German from the 18th century. I can't change this, but part of me hopes against hope that when the next group of music patrons and season-ticket holders comes of age to replace the aging ones, that they show an interest in more daring fare. But how can they do this when the symphony hall is treated as some sort of Cathedral, where the Germanic pantheon of composers is held up like the saints and martyrs? Where modern music is close to sacrilege? For goodness sake, the reason all those Bachs and Brahms' attained fame is because the public actually WANTED new music in their day. It wasn't until Mendelssohn dug up Bach and had it performed that anybody went "hmmm, perhaps we should perform both old and new music, and venerate these old masters"

Veneration is fine by me. There will never be a symphony like the Eroica. But does that mean classical music should cut off its own head?

Tan Dun: Water Passion After St. Matthew

Have you heard of Tan Dun? The guy that wrote all the music for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? He wrote such a compelling soundtrack. It melded Chinese music with the symphony orchestra, particularly Yo-Yo Ma's many cello solos.

Don't mess with me. Not only do I write awesome music, I have an awesome coat.

It's like a double-dose of awesome!

I had never heard another piece by Tan Dun. Until last week.

The Water Passion After St. Matthew is so striking. This is one of the most incredible pieces of music I've heard. It's so haunting and atmospheric...wow. It's spine-tingling, goosebump-inducing music at its finest.

I wonder if it has the same effect on non-musicians, or if the more bizarre effects and aspects get in the way. To me, I heard links to George Crumb in the use of the string instruments.

Classically trained in the Beijing conservatory (studying composition with the likes of Toru Takemitsu, no less), Dun traveled to the U.S. to pursue a doctorate at Columbia, where he encountered the music of Edgar Varese, John Cage, Steve Reich, and Philip Glass. These experimental composers seem to have really inspired him; in 2003 he wrote a concerto for paper, where the medium is manipulated as percussion in various ways to get different effects and sounds. He expanded this concept of experimental percussion with his Water Concerto, which utilizes amplified bowls of water as an instrument.

The Water Passion After St. Matthew explores the theme of water as musical device. It also ties in to the symbolic meanings from the New Testament; water as baptism. The combinations of vocal timbres and unusual string instrument technique is thrilling. The choir takes on a timeless, tonal feel, almost like a chorus in Greek mythology. The solo bass sings quotes of Jesus, and in the Temptation movement the soprano takes on an incredibly eerie incarnation of the devil, shrieking "If thou art the son of god, turn these stones into bread"

The piece does not wear the mantle of European classicism; instead, the biblical text is set with Eastern flair and 20th century abandon. It's refreshing to see a sacred setting be so bold! I am spellbound every time I hear the piece.

What do you think? Musicians? Non-musicians? Is it more rewarding to listen to with a background in things like George Crumb and Cage and Reich, or is it as powerful without the burden of scholarship? I often wonder this, but I cannot exist in both states. I have all my music history classes behind me and my so-called classical training, so I often wonder how new music like this is perceived in our society.

Why?

Our first day of my ethnomusicology class, the professor opened with one question: "Why did you become a musician?"

Many of us had stories about being young and having parents put them in music lessons. "But you could have quit." Leo countered.

"I began my career as a percussionist." "Oh really?" 

"Yeah, I played a color-coded xylophone."

I was three years old when I saw The Sound of Music. It left an indelible impression on me. I would go around the house singing the songs by heart. I loved Liesl's voice in particular. Incidentally, when I took German in high school, my German name was Liesl. I had one of those Fischer Price xylophones and used to tap out the notes until they sounded right: "Do, a deer, a female deer, re, a drop of golden sun..." There's photos of me banging on the piano at my grandparents' house as a toddler, fascinated by this object sitting in their parlor that made sound:

I've been doing a lot of thinking about this question since last week. Leo's right. I could have quit. I could have majored in chemistry, in English literature, or gone to culinary school. I could have opened a small business, made comics, moved to Walden pond and set up shop. I could have excelled in a completely different field, one that doesn't kidnap your time and channel it into evening rehearsals, into tiny little rooms with a piano and a mirror for hours on end. I could have been one of those people that uses their musical history as an anecdote at a party, their random fact. "I used to play the violin."

Instead, I learned music theory, form and analysis. I played in two string quartets and several orchestras. I learned about music history from the ancient Greeks to John Adams in broad, sweeping classes that covered hundreds of years at once. My music took me to Dallas, Salt Lake City, Toronto, Boston. I took a closer look at the development of rock and roll, at early music performance practice, at chamber music literature, at violin repertoire, at the history of jazz. I took drop the needle tests and juries. I read scholarly journals, attended lectures by musicologists, took dates to the Cleveland Orchestra. I spent a year with a motet by Josquin des Prez.

"Why? You could have quit."

Because. Because there was something magical about hitting the keys of a piano at age three and having sound come out, and there's still something magical about drawing a bow across a string in just the right way. There's a quiet hum when I'm playing a chord, at that moment when the pitch locks and the beats disappear and you feel the clarity of the interval. The tactile sensation, the muscle memory, the years spent training your ear, listening to masters of the instrument, the exchange across generations of other people who find the same magic in the process as I do.

It is miraculous to me to read musical notation, to take for granted this literacy. To know how to translate that manuscript into motion, knowing that the note is a map to a piano key or the placement of my hand along a string. To not be aware of this process, this incredible synergy, every single day of my life.

I do not know any other way of being. All that I learn about music becomes so entwined, such a part of me that I forget where it came from. It seems as if it has always been there, as if it was waiting behind a door until I came in and unlocked it with a little skeleton key. It's hard to remember a time when I couldn't read music, and I forget that this language is as foreign to some as a page of Russian to me.

I am a musician because I am a musician. I define myself in the music of others and in the music I learn how to create. Music is a celebration of oxygen, of present tense, of being alive. Could I say the same of any other field? Could I find this incessant passion for any other thing in life? I don't really care to find out.

Music is so complex and it has all these organic mechanisms and life forces and flora growing inside it. It's so unpredictable, like nature, and you can't put it in a box. It's belittling it to say music is left or right or pro-this or anti-that. It's a much bigger force than that.   -Björk

Guilty Pleasure No More

The entire cycle goes something like this: I loved Lady Gaga circa Just Dance, and from there everything she has released has gotten worse? Poker Face, she barely sings, then don't get me started on Love Games (Let's have some fun, this beat is sick; I wanna take a ride on your disco stick...!?!?!?!?! Definitely in the running for crappiest/creepiest lyrics ever). And then she released the worst thing to happen to Christmas since Nerf Herder's I've Got a Boner for Christmas...with no actual melodies and lyrics like "My Christmas Tree is delicious"...congratulations.

I mean, if I'm at a dance party, sure. Bring on La Bouche and whatever techno. But why so much speech? Why isn't she using her chops? Check out the original Poker Face at 2:37. It's like she's trying to sound like Fergie...I don't know.

So, I had given up on her a while ago. The best Lady Gaga I saw? Christopher Walken reading Poker Face! But then, somehow, I came across her "acoustic" videos...just her and a piano.

...I frikkin' love Lady Gaga again.

The first example I'm going to share? Paparazzi...not only is her belting absolutely perfect, the girl can play the piano! I mean, this one's a little repetitive, but I really enjoyed it.

The real revelation? POKER FACE. I have no words. It's got quirky piano accompaniment, she shows off her incredible voice. All the synthesizers, the dance beats...it gets old. But if she keeps appearing on radio broadcasts with her lounge lizard crossed with broadway belting and quirky piano, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

Jazz hands!

Cloud 9

I just began a new semester at CSU. It seems sort of late; I was actually going a little stir-crazy at home with nothing to work on.

I had my first lesson of the semester today, and Molly immediately goes to: "So what have you been thinking for your graduate recital?" My pseudo-assignment over break was to pick music for my recital so we could make a plan of when to start working on the various pieces.

I spouted a list of things I had been listening to and liking, and she was all frikkin' over it.

The tentative list:

1. H.F. von Biber, Rosenkranz Sonaten. Which sonata? This one is flexible; we just wanted to have a mix of centuries. I finally obtained a score and so we'll just tailor it to the rest of the recital.
2. Paul Schonfield, Pining for Betsy from Three Country Fiddle Pieces. It's this bluesy mess of rhythms, but once I get it in my ear, it will just be an absolute joy to play.
3. Gershwin's 3 Piano preludes, arranged for violin and piano by Heifetz. This piece is just fun, I've already played it as a pianist, and it would be a fun kind of encore-y closer. 1 2 3
4. Stravinsky's Chanson Russe, or Russian Maiden's song. It doesn't have the blues influence of the others, but I think it has a lovely, plaintive quality that ties in well with it.
5. Ravel Sonate for violin and piano. This was an obvious choice to be the big-gun work on the program. The second movement is called "Blues". End of story. Mvts: 1 2 3

We wanted to have a mix of scale-larger works like the sonatas paired with the smaller pieces like the Gershwin. The idea is to have a variety-in scope, in sound, in difficulty, and in time period-and then find a common thread to help unify the works for the audience.

The overall unification of the recital rests on the incorporation of blues harmonies in the 20th century music (perfect material for the program notes requirement-lots to write about). The Biber is a bit of a wild card, but depending on which sonata I pick, it could actually tie in really well (the sonatas are all about the 15 mysteries of the Rosary; the events/miracles in the life of Christ, with a 16th passacaglia to tie it all together). Plus, if I have nothing else to go on, Biber's writing is so ahead of its time that it will pair well with the 20th century music regardless. He was the first that I know of to call for such techniques as scordatura, snap pizzicato, etc. That alone makes his works stand out for me. They have always piqued my interest, and now I may get to experience some early music that doesn't entail the Bach Sonatas and Partitas.

I checked out all the scores, I'm making oodles of copies today, and we are off and running! I can't frikkin' wait to dive into this music! I've never been so excited about practicing and lessons in my entire life. I've never had a teacher who wants to tackle 20th century music with me; Molly thinks the Ravel in particular will be the perfect thing for me from a technical standpoint. There's so much in these pieces that I can learn from and grow into, and yet there's a mix of things that will not be as hard once I get them firmly in my hands and head (the Gershwin in particular).

I am so excited!!!!!!

Top Discoveries of Winter Break

Christmas saw a glorious return to purchased compact discs. A hiatus from iTunes. There's something nice about returning to the tactile musical medium. With favorite artists and new gems, there's just so much more awe for the entire music-making process when I'm holding a cd booklet in my hand and seeing all the names of the recording engineers and artist shout-outs to people I have never heard of.

Here were the final musical experiences of 2009:

1. Slavic Soul Party, Baltica (from the album Taketron). John discovered this band through NPR, of all places. I think we fell for them because they have a sound reminiscent of Youngblood Brass Band, but they add an Eastern European flair with traditional instruments like accordion. After hearing them on NPR, John tracked them down via YouTube, and Baltica was what we heard first off of Taketron. John immediately put the cd on his Christmas list, and I immediately bought it for him. We listened to it in the car and fell in love with Sarba, which isn't on youtube, but I would recommend listening to the clip on Amazon. It is just so quick and silly. What's not to love?

2. Christmas really came alive for me with Arvo Pärt. His music is like standing in a Cathedral, alone, listening to the echoes of what the angels must sing. The example that has been the most striking (and new to me) is his Summa. I first heard it as a choral arrangement, but on youtube I stumbled across this breathless version for strings: Summa for Strings 1. And, a sprightlier version: Summa for Strings 2.

Go Estonia! I can safely say he is my favorite Estonian composer. Although perhaps I should look into others...see if there's some sort of magical composition-dust in the water.

3. Sufjan Stevens' Songs for Christmas. I have rarely like entire albums of Christmas songs by bands or singers...until now. He runs the gamut of secular and sacred tunes from shimmery arrangements of Hark the Herald Angels Sing (which reminded me of Björk's Frosti), to hauntingly beautiful ones that I wished were covered more often (O Come O Come Emmanuel, I Saw Three Ships). Some more favorites on the album: Sister Winter, and Put the Lights on the Tree (complete with the cutest animation ever).

4. On the topic of Christmas, I found one of the most adorable songs ever which will forever be a part of my Christmastime traditions: The Weepies' All That I Want. It reminds me of the musical aesthetic they used to shoot for on Gilmore Girls...it would fit in well with Sam Phillips' tracks for the soundtrack. Simple, sweet, gorgeous. And it uses sleigh bells!

5. Björk, Voltaic and Volta. My two acquisitions of Björk have very similar titles. John was amazing and went off of the Christmas list, trekking to the East Side to get me the live Voltaic album with the DVD (at our local shop they had the non-DVD version of the album). It's pretty phenomenal. The standout track? Pleasure is All Mine from Medulla, synthesized instead of vocalized. The Volta album was something I really should have owned by now, given my obsession with her. So many instant loves on this album...Earth Intruders (holy crap go watch that video...stunning) with its tribal beats and percussive power, I see who you are with its Gather Ye Rosebuds sort of carpe diem argument, and the insistent Rebel Yell, Declare Independence (with another freaking hypnotic video).

She gets another picture because I love her.

Explanations

I haven't been updating much. Why is this?


I've been listening to all the Mahler symphonies...in a row.

They have pretty much left me braindead. Does anybody else have this issue? Perhaps I should have split it up more. I wanted to do a sweeping, epic write-up of my impressions, but these things sort of suck the life out of you.

I think to absorb it all better I'm going to break it up and try again. Hey, the point of the blog is education and exposure, right?

Musical Pet Peeve No. 2: Misusing O Fortuna

Carl Orff wrote a great piece. The Carmina Burana is an incredible achievement. I get that. I listen to it, and think it is one of the most powerful pieces of the century.

However, it is also the most EPIC FRIKKIN' THING EVER WRITTEN (arguably). One particular movement, O Fortuna, is so epic, that Hollywood got wise to it and has since used it in approximately every other action movie preview for the past 20 years. I also saw an (awful) Paso Doble on So You Think You Can Dance set to O Fortuna.

I have this to say to anyone thinking of using this piece for your film: DON'T DO IT. Your film is a flash in the pan piece of crap that will be forgotten in a year. Everything I have ever seen using this piece is unworthy. When I hear the any part of the Carmina Burana, I am expecting epic on the level of Lord of the Rings. Epic as in giant armies, great cinematography, excellent writing, a budget that could feed a third world country, and some of the world's most renowned actors.

This is not to say I am above making fun of a great work of art. On the youtube video I posted, somebody pointed out this brilliantly witty misheard lyric: "0:23 some men like cheese, hot temperate cheese" I am still giggling about that and will most likely think of that every time I hear it now.


It is just that these movies are trying to make it look as though they are as epic and intense as Orff's piece suggests, and they never deliver. PUT UP OR SHUT UP.