Please refresh with this uncomfortable video of Glenn Gould speaking rhythmically in a Scottish accent.
Thanks, Ian, for sending me this!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Let It Blurt. Or Not. Whatever Happens Happens.
I was recently out for drinks with some old schoolmates of mine from music school. The lot of us had been grads or undergrads studying some kind of experimental music composition.
While nestled amid confusing tiki decor, I had related to me the specs for a recent grad thesis piece in which only the performance's mistakes were audible. I wont share the full layout of how this was done in practice, for proprietary reasons, but let's just say there were computers involved, and a "mistake" was programmed as an unintentional, dynamically louder 'blurt' from the instrument. Everyone at the table agreed that this was a solid conceptual idea (I didn't comment), but in practice, there was a conundrum: if the performer made no mistakes, the piece was inaudible.
Sonically, I'm told, this piece amounted to minutes on end of awkward silence, punctuated by blurts. The conservative members of the group agreed (nodding over a big tiki bowl of rum punch) that it was important that music sound somehow good or interesting, and so determined that the piece had not been successful. I didn't bother asking how this piece could possibly communicate conceptual meaning to a listener without copious program notes. Apparently there were no program notes at all for the piece, which I imagine was a disappointment to anyone in attendance, listening up for blurts, and wishing they had something to stare at to alleviate the boredom, confusion, and anger they must have been feeling.
What merit might be discovered in a piece like this? What drives it? There is something interesting about filtering unintended sounds, and, I guess, exposing performance as a human and accident-prone process. There's also something psychologically interesting about whatever happened to the performer of the piece, if he or she would have consciously or unconsciously tried to make mistakes so the piece could be audible, and if he or she would have fought that urge. But, let's face it, those things are only likely to be interesting to other musicians.
I think the problem can be framed in terms of listener/composer control. I'm reminded of something Anner Bylsma said about Bach's 'Cello Suites in his book Bach, the Fencing Master. Bylsma talks about the suites as a possible "experiment in music." The possible experiment: how little can a composer say and still imply to a listener a great amount of information? How can one imply four voices when writing for one intrument? One can't include the bass and the melody at the same time, all the time. Bylsma surmises that a single bass note can be remembered by a listener for very long periods of time, while the melody moves on for an entire passage, and that listeners can tell when the bass has resolved. He also thinks a listener can retrospectively imagine an implied bass note when its resolution is heard measures later. In other words, the 'cello suites are like good books: half of it is in your imagination.
In contrast, the avant garde status quo seem much more interested in filling space, in spelling things out, in making concepts clear and above all communicating something. (This seems counter to what postmodernism is supposed to be--god forbid postmodern music communicates!--but bear with me?) The compositional process, at least in the "mistakes" piece, is more about a central concept, which usually stems from the moment in which the piece was conceived (say, making a mistake on the guitar), and communicating that exact experience to a listener somehow.
Ironically, the deconstructivist, concept-driven music process seems to have dumped off into conceptual programmaticism. It's like watching concept TV. The 'mistakes' piece could only make sense to us if we had program notes, and then, we'd just be listening to an exposition of the program notes. We ought to be imagining this inaudible piece, but all we hear is concept, which is spelled out for us in no uncertain terms by the title or notes. There's nothing to spark our imagination, and not a lot of room for interpretation.
All of this implies to me that we just don't trust our listeners to imagine what we haven't expressly spelled out.
This is especially strange considering the avant trends of improv and graphic scores, which supposedly aim to relinquish some of the composer's control. I might hypothesize that some recent use of graphic scoring has more to do with not being able to pay performers to learn through-composed parts, rather than with intentional ideologies of control and authorship. (Bear in mind that I'm talking about new and underfunded/student composers, not John Cage and Anthony Braxton.) In any case, this kind of scoring tends to transfer control away from the composer to the performer. The listener is still passive. Composers get control of the concept, performers get control of the resulting sound, and listeners get dick. What about evoking, rather than force-feeding?
While nestled amid confusing tiki decor, I had related to me the specs for a recent grad thesis piece in which only the performance's mistakes were audible. I wont share the full layout of how this was done in practice, for proprietary reasons, but let's just say there were computers involved, and a "mistake" was programmed as an unintentional, dynamically louder 'blurt' from the instrument. Everyone at the table agreed that this was a solid conceptual idea (I didn't comment), but in practice, there was a conundrum: if the performer made no mistakes, the piece was inaudible.
Sonically, I'm told, this piece amounted to minutes on end of awkward silence, punctuated by blurts. The conservative members of the group agreed (nodding over a big tiki bowl of rum punch) that it was important that music sound somehow good or interesting, and so determined that the piece had not been successful. I didn't bother asking how this piece could possibly communicate conceptual meaning to a listener without copious program notes. Apparently there were no program notes at all for the piece, which I imagine was a disappointment to anyone in attendance, listening up for blurts, and wishing they had something to stare at to alleviate the boredom, confusion, and anger they must have been feeling.
What merit might be discovered in a piece like this? What drives it? There is something interesting about filtering unintended sounds, and, I guess, exposing performance as a human and accident-prone process. There's also something psychologically interesting about whatever happened to the performer of the piece, if he or she would have consciously or unconsciously tried to make mistakes so the piece could be audible, and if he or she would have fought that urge. But, let's face it, those things are only likely to be interesting to other musicians.
I think the problem can be framed in terms of listener/composer control. I'm reminded of something Anner Bylsma said about Bach's 'Cello Suites in his book Bach, the Fencing Master. Bylsma talks about the suites as a possible "experiment in music." The possible experiment: how little can a composer say and still imply to a listener a great amount of information? How can one imply four voices when writing for one intrument? One can't include the bass and the melody at the same time, all the time. Bylsma surmises that a single bass note can be remembered by a listener for very long periods of time, while the melody moves on for an entire passage, and that listeners can tell when the bass has resolved. He also thinks a listener can retrospectively imagine an implied bass note when its resolution is heard measures later. In other words, the 'cello suites are like good books: half of it is in your imagination.
In contrast, the avant garde status quo seem much more interested in filling space, in spelling things out, in making concepts clear and above all communicating something. (This seems counter to what postmodernism is supposed to be--god forbid postmodern music communicates!--but bear with me?) The compositional process, at least in the "mistakes" piece, is more about a central concept, which usually stems from the moment in which the piece was conceived (say, making a mistake on the guitar), and communicating that exact experience to a listener somehow.
Ironically, the deconstructivist, concept-driven music process seems to have dumped off into conceptual programmaticism. It's like watching concept TV. The 'mistakes' piece could only make sense to us if we had program notes, and then, we'd just be listening to an exposition of the program notes. We ought to be imagining this inaudible piece, but all we hear is concept, which is spelled out for us in no uncertain terms by the title or notes. There's nothing to spark our imagination, and not a lot of room for interpretation.
All of this implies to me that we just don't trust our listeners to imagine what we haven't expressly spelled out.
This is especially strange considering the avant trends of improv and graphic scores, which supposedly aim to relinquish some of the composer's control. I might hypothesize that some recent use of graphic scoring has more to do with not being able to pay performers to learn through-composed parts, rather than with intentional ideologies of control and authorship. (Bear in mind that I'm talking about new and underfunded/student composers, not John Cage and Anthony Braxton.) In any case, this kind of scoring tends to transfer control away from the composer to the performer. The listener is still passive. Composers get control of the concept, performers get control of the resulting sound, and listeners get dick. What about evoking, rather than force-feeding?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Ur Reviewers Are So Gay
From time to time I click on whatever up-and-coming crap Rhapsody is trying to push on their front page. A few days ago I clicked on Katy Perry, the newest calculatedly provocative pop slut on Capitol records.
I read this review on rhapsody:
Well, her music is exactly what you'd expect it to be--a cross between Alanis Morissette and Avril Lavigne.
Lyrics:
and
The perspective of the blog world as far as I have seen can be summed up in three basic perspectives:
1) The gay commmunity is pissed.
2) Rock reviewers reluctantly say, "sure, the lyrics are controversial...but it's so catchy!"
3) Indy rock reviewers are saying, "The lyrics are so edgy! Revolutionary! Isn't it grand?"
Props to these producers for figuring out that musical gender-bending is a topic that everyone from teenagers to cultural theorists fawn over, and for figuring out how to weave these buzz themes into amazingly formulaic songs about ex-boyfriends that everyone will buy. Reviewers, do you have your heads crammed up your asses? These lyrics are annoying and stupid, but they are not edgy. When we all said we liked provocative gender-bendy music, we meant that we liked Bowie, or the Kinks, or the Replacements, or Queen! Don't you remember that stuff? Dammit, blogosphere, ur so gay!
Perry, like the mainstream culture she reflects, appears to have actually no idea what she is saying (surprise). This shit is significant in exactly the opposite way that these reviewers expect. Pop music's one benefit is that it lets us openly admit how stupid we are, it shines a floodlight on the ugliest parts of mainstream culture. For better or for worse, when a song like this becomes a Billboard hit (it did, last week), it signals the beginning of the end of the controversy surrounding its subject.
Now please cleanse your palate with something that doesn't suck:
I read this review on rhapsody:
Katy Perry may or may not actually be gay, but she's certainly made her young career with coy, playful references to sexuality -- her own and her paramours'. The young Californian singer-songwriter first generated a heaping helping of online buzz in 2007 with "Ur So Gay," in which she accuses a disappointing boyfriend who "doesn't even like boys" of being, well, take a guess. Then, in 2008, she shot up the charts with the Sapphic sweet-talker "I Kissed a Girl." Kind of a surprising turn of events for the daughter of two pastors who wasn't allowed to listen to secular music as a kid and got her start in Christian music, releasing a 2001 album under then name Katy Hudson. Or maybe not -- if you believe the old saw about preacher's daughters and once you learn that Perry says her life changed when she discovered Queen as a teenager. By 2004, she'd worked with Glen Ballard (Alanis Morissette) and the Matrix (Avril Lavigne), been signed to Columbia and been hailed by the likes of Blender as the Next Big Thing! But nothing really clicked until she released her debut, One of the Boys, on Capitol in 2008 and got her gay on.hm.
-Rachel Devitt
Well, her music is exactly what you'd expect it to be--a cross between Alanis Morissette and Avril Lavigne.
Lyrics:
"I kissed a girl and I liked it/The taste of her cherry chapstick/I kissed a girl just to try it"
and
" I hope you hang yourself with your H&M scarf/While jacking off listening to Mozart/You bitch and moan about LA/Wishing you were in the rain reading Hemingway/You don’t eat meat/And drive electrical cars/You’re so indie rock it’s almost an art/You need SPF 45 just to stay alive. (CHORUS: ) You’re so gay and you don’t even like boys/No you don’t even like/No you don’t even like/No you don’t even like boys..."
The perspective of the blog world as far as I have seen can be summed up in three basic perspectives:
1) The gay commmunity is pissed.
2) Rock reviewers reluctantly say, "sure, the lyrics are controversial...but it's so catchy!"
3) Indy rock reviewers are saying, "The lyrics are so edgy! Revolutionary! Isn't it grand?"
Props to these producers for figuring out that musical gender-bending is a topic that everyone from teenagers to cultural theorists fawn over, and for figuring out how to weave these buzz themes into amazingly formulaic songs about ex-boyfriends that everyone will buy. Reviewers, do you have your heads crammed up your asses? These lyrics are annoying and stupid, but they are not edgy. When we all said we liked provocative gender-bendy music, we meant that we liked Bowie, or the Kinks, or the Replacements, or Queen! Don't you remember that stuff? Dammit, blogosphere, ur so gay!
Perry, like the mainstream culture she reflects, appears to have actually no idea what she is saying (surprise). This shit is significant in exactly the opposite way that these reviewers expect. Pop music's one benefit is that it lets us openly admit how stupid we are, it shines a floodlight on the ugliest parts of mainstream culture. For better or for worse, when a song like this becomes a Billboard hit (it did, last week), it signals the beginning of the end of the controversy surrounding its subject.
Now please cleanse your palate with something that doesn't suck:
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Oh, euphonium
I swear to goodness that I will post something substantial soon. Until then, randomness.
Lately I've been attempting to write for brass and woodwinds (which I know next to nothing about) and have been youtubing brass solos, to find out what can be done. This lead to my newfound love of the euphonium.
And then I found this guy (Steven Mead).
The whole thing is worth it, but at 0:57 things get truly amazing.
Lately I've been attempting to write for brass and woodwinds (which I know next to nothing about) and have been youtubing brass solos, to find out what can be done. This lead to my newfound love of the euphonium.
And then I found this guy (Steven Mead).
The whole thing is worth it, but at 0:57 things get truly amazing.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Bulgarian Idol; Whitney Houston in Translation
The winner of Bulgarian Idol, Nevena Tsoneva:
This is so interesting, because she's using Bulgarian vocal ornaments as a stand-in for Whitney Houston's American melismas, and is totally rearranging the tonal feel of the song in the process. (The Bulgarian word for the basic sharp vibrato ornament is "tresene", I'm told, but I don't know the names of the other ones, nor the specifics of the tonality involved.)
She occasionally copies a phrase of Houston's melisma note-for-note, which is remarkable, because her ornaments and Houston's seem to be tuned and inflected very differently. When she does this, it's as if she is slipping into an American accent.
This is so interesting, because she's using Bulgarian vocal ornaments as a stand-in for Whitney Houston's American melismas, and is totally rearranging the tonal feel of the song in the process. (The Bulgarian word for the basic sharp vibrato ornament is "tresene", I'm told, but I don't know the names of the other ones, nor the specifics of the tonality involved.)
She occasionally copies a phrase of Houston's melisma note-for-note, which is remarkable, because her ornaments and Houston's seem to be tuned and inflected very differently. When she does this, it's as if she is slipping into an American accent.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I Want You To Hurt Like I Do
The bar on songwriting is sometimes set so low that I forget what songs are capable of. So, here's a reminder:
Randy Newman, from Paul Zollo's "Songwriters on Songwriting" (highly recommended):
"I'm interested in regular stuff. Like what a guy who threads pipe does, what a carpenter does, and all the stuff they know. I like shows on television that are about things I know nothing about, like gardening. Or that guy who paints...I like hearing them talk, their accents. Like "This Old House" with Bob Vila. It's arcane to me. It's like the world, because I don't know how to do anything.
I like to know what makes people tick, what their mothers and fathers were. Why they talk the way they do; using this sort of word or that sort of word. What it all means. I've always had to listen very closely. I always have listened very closely."
Randy Newman will be playing at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco on October 17, 2008.
Randy Newman, from Paul Zollo's "Songwriters on Songwriting" (highly recommended):
"I'm interested in regular stuff. Like what a guy who threads pipe does, what a carpenter does, and all the stuff they know. I like shows on television that are about things I know nothing about, like gardening. Or that guy who paints...I like hearing them talk, their accents. Like "This Old House" with Bob Vila. It's arcane to me. It's like the world, because I don't know how to do anything.
I like to know what makes people tick, what their mothers and fathers were. Why they talk the way they do; using this sort of word or that sort of word. What it all means. I've always had to listen very closely. I always have listened very closely."
Randy Newman will be playing at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco on October 17, 2008.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
First Past the Post
Hallo and welcome.
The first post is left to better writers:
-Theodor Adorno
-Lester Bangs
The first post is left to better writers:
"In comparison to signifying language, music is a language of a completely different type. Therein lies music's theological aspect. What music says is a proposition at once distinct and concealed. Its idea is the form of the name of God. It is demythologized prayer, freed from the magic of making anything happen, the human attempt, futile, as always, to name the name itself, not to communicate meanings."
-Theodor Adorno
"The first mistake of art is to assume that it's serious."
-Lester Bangs
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