The Hopeless Journey

A Faint Echo

2011-04-03T02:09:00.004-04:00

Album: Johannes Regis: Missa Ecce ancilla Domini; Missa Dum sacrum mysterium
Composer: Johannes Regis
Instruments: 5 vocals
Musical Form: Mass
Year: ~1460

At least once before I've been disappointed by the whims of modern recording artists applied to early music, but this time it's a real shame because it's preventing me from hearing a key turning point in Renaissance music. Johannes Regis, a Franco-Flemish composer from the mid 15th century, was important for his part in establishing a tradition of five-voice arrangements in masses and motets. Yes, five is tougher to compose than four (and much tougher than three), so this is not a trivial change. Regis' masses made a big impression on later composers, including the likes of Josquin des Prez, for whom five voices would be the standard.

In the only album I could get my hands on, Johannes Regis: Missa Ecce ancilla Domini; Missa Dum sacrum mysterium, the crime was not so much the arrangement as the presentation; just because music was originally written to be performed in cathedrals and just because it projects a "deep" mood doesn't justify adding echo to match a German yodeler at the Grand Canyon. I can barely make out the notes in these masses, so the usual "texture" of early Renaissance polyphony is all but gone. Yes, it's true that being able to distinguish individual notes is not a universal quality of good music -- try making out every note in a Dead Kennedys album sometime -- but composers of early polyphony had no intention of blurring the lines between notes anymore than da Vinci meant for the Mona Lisa to be viewed through a fish-eye lens.

This is no artful reinterpretation, it's just careless production. Moving on.

Missa Prolationum

2010-09-22T03:23:00.003-04:00

Album: Ockeghem: The Ockeghem Collection
Track: "Missa Prolationum" (Track #9)
Composer: Johannes Ockeghem
Instruments: 4 vocals
Musical Form: Cyclic Mass
Year: ~1460

Who says that beauty is the ultimate goal? Music, as any art form, ostensibly aspires to please the senses and stimulate our emotional center. However, for many of the self-proclaimed cognoscenti (myself included, at times), it also serves a higher intellectual purpose. We tip our caps to those artists who possess such technical skill that their quantifiable achievements seem out of the grasp of an ordinary practitioner. These artists appeal especially to those who appreciate more than enjoy (insomuch as those two things are mutually exclusive).

So it was, and is, with Johannes Ockeghem. An extremely skilled composer, Ockeghem composed, among other things, a thirty-six voice motet and a mass that was everywhere a double canon. For the latter composition, he wrote for four voices, two with original musical lines and two that mimicked the others, using the same pitch intervals but performing in different time signatures and at different absolute starting pitches. Constructing a listenable mass under such constraints is no small feat and Ockeghem is rightly viewed as a master at the manipulation and construction of vocal lines in the Renaissance style.

But is it really good music? This guy can play a piano upside-down, with his arms crossed and his head under the keyboard. Although the performance is impressive and no doubt took a lot of practice, what actual value does it have? Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying that Ockeghem is on the same musical level as our kitschy piano-playing friend, but before we crown Ockeghem the king of Renaissance music, I think it's fair to ask the question.

In the visual arts, perhaps the closest analog to Ockeghem's technique would be a hand-drawn fractal (see here for an example), where an artist is able to construct a complex figure connecting some initial geometric shape using a series of simple rules. In this analogy, the initial shape is like Ockeghem's melody for a single voice, a melody that he replicates in the other voices using simple mathematical relationships. Although there is an undeniable beauty in fractals, particularly when iterated many times over by a computer (example), do such images really compare to the work of artists like Pablo Picasso or Leonardo Da Vinci? Likewise, how do Ockeghem's "trick" compositions really compare to the works other great composers of the Renaissance and beyond?

My personal feeling is that they lack the pathos of his peers' work, as well as much of his own. The example quoted here, "Missa Prolationum," is a fascinating listen the first time you hear it. The elaborate canons produce a sort of long-period rhythmic pulsation that can be entrancing to those unfamiliar, but over the course of an entire mass cycle or on repeat listenings, the novelty value quickly wears off. Eventually, it becomes clear that the melodic restrictions Ockeghem was forced to impose in order to create his compositional miracle are ultimately suffocating the piece.

I won't go as far as to recommend avoiding Ockeghem, or even avoiding the pieces discussed here. Rather, I'll just say not to expect a deep personal connection to the music. It is interesting, but little more.

Related Links: Allmusic

Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux: A Canon Wrapped Inside a Puzzle

2010-09-22T02:51:00.012-04:00

Album: Ockeghem: Missa "De plus en plus" & Chansons
Track: "Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux" (Track #7)
Composer: Johannes Ockeghem
Instruments: 3 vocals
Musical Form: rondeau cinquain
Year: ~1460

Long before quasi-psychedelic rock bands were syncing their LPs to Judy Garland movies and artists with postmodern aspirations were using backmasking to dodge censors, there was the puzzle canon. These deceptively simple pieces would be notated with only a single voice, but the composer would leave some clue that would indicate how the other voices were meant to be sung. For example, the other voices might sing the melody of the first voice in reverse or at half the tempo.

In the most well-studied example of this technique, "Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux," Ockeghem presents a rondeau and leaves the simple hint, "Take from me your example …" Using this and the form of the musical notation, the singers are to deduce that they sing the same melody as the first voice, but in different musical modes; that is, transposed up intervals of a fourth and a seventh. The result has an elegant, if somewhat bland, sound and illustrates how the juxtaposition of melody lines that are related to one another by a simple musical transformation can be pleasing to the ear.

These puzzle canons must have presented an intriguing game to early composers, as they would challenge themselves to find melody lines that could be transformed in simple ways to produce a pleasant harmony, much like a mathematician solving a complex equation. Indeed, the very relations that they sought were mathematical in nature. It would be interesting to see if any of the melodies that we are familiar with in the modern world could be self-replicated in such a way. Nevertheless, I have trouble seeing the lasting quality of this music. Despite its novelty, the music has little to offer our brains once we have "solved" -- that is, familiarized ourselves with -- the relationships between voices. One or two listens should be enough, then feel free to move on.

Related Links: Allmusic

Mort Tu As Navré De Ton Dart: A Fitting Tribute

2010-07-17T06:19:00.016-04:00

Album: Ockeghem: Missa "De plus en plus" & Chansons
Track: "Mort Tu As Navré De Ton Dart" (Track #12)
Composer: Johannes Ockeghem
Instruments: 4 vocals
Musical Form: ballade
Year: 1460

Too often in the 21st century, we put so much emphasis on progress that we fail to properly appreciate our past. The musical world, as many others, relishes innovation, but relegates tribute to two-hour television specials and concert benefits that indulge nostalgia at the expense of inspiration. Such things belong at a funeral, not a tribute. A genuine tribute demonstrates the effect the deceased had on the world by presenting something that may itself live on for years to come. A genuine tribute is not for the mourners, but actually presents something that would have been fitting of the deceased.

Fortunately, such tributes were commonplace in the musical world of the Renaissance. In 1460, Johannes Ockeghem paid tribute to his musical mentor and predecessor, Gilles Binchois, with a ballade, "Mort Tu As Navré De Ton Dart," that incorporates elements of both his own style and that of his beloved mentor. The pathos of this music reflects a sort of simple sadness that we seldom hear in modern music. There is no existential self-reflection. There are no confused feelings of romance for the deceased brought on by the crude substitution of a commercial love song. The composer made something beautiful for this purpose alone and they wrote it not for themselves, but for the world.

When did this art form die? The next time a music legend, say Bob Dylan or Pete Townshend, dies, why don't today's indie darlings get together to record a tribute album with entirely new material inspired by the deceased. Who knows, collaborations of this sort might even inspire new ideas and new musical directions for the contributing artists. Wouldn't that be a fitting tribute?

Related links: YouTube

L'Homme Armé: Mass at Arms

2010-06-15T01:13:00.000-04:00

Album: Busnois: Missa l'homme armé - Domarto: Missa Spiritus almus
Track: "Missa l'homme armé: Sanctus" (Track #4)
Composer: Antoine Busnois
Instruments: 4 vocals
Musical Form: Cyclic Mass
Year: ~1460

Whenever we're listening to music from the past, we always have a certain disconnect with the composer's target audience that prevents us from appreciating the piece in the same manner that a contemporary might have. Just as a 23rd-century Australian might fail to understand why an episode of South Park would choose to pit a former US Vice President against a mythical "half-man, half-bear, half-pig," the motivations for the choice in cantus firmi for 15th-century masses are often mysterious to the modern listener. Since we share little in our cultural history with the composer, a great deal of the context is lost.

So it is with "L'homme Armé," possibly the most popular cantus firmus melody of the 15th and 16th centuries. Many famous composers, including Guillaume Dufay, Antoine Busnois, Johannes Ockeghem, and Josquin Des Prez (among others), fashioned masses about this famous tune. The bare melody can be heard in this YouTube recording: L'Homme Armé. True to its name, which literally means "armed man," the song evokes images of soldiers marching into battle, proudly chanting allegiance to their unquestionably noble cause. Although many composers wrote music in the service of their home kingdoms and/or employers, it is not clear why this melody became such a staple for cantus firmus masses. Theories to its origin range from a rallying call for the crusades to the name of Guillaume Dufay's favorite tavern.

Regardless, the relative simplicity of the tune provides a nice starting point for modern listeners hoping to develop a feel for the style and structure of Renaissance masses. One particularly straightforward example is Antoine Busnois' mass, which retains much of the pathos of the original tune but uses more elaborate voicings and places it in a religious setting. Listening to the "Sanctus," one gets the impression of a society preparing for a culmination, perhaps military, political, or cultural. By forging a oneness with God, they likewise bring themselves together for the coming trials.

Busnois' interpretation is fairly literal (he may have been the melody's original composer), but later L'homme armé masses give less a feeling of urgency -- perhaps the song's popularity had less to do with its theme than with the ease with which it could be arranged for polyphony.

Related Links: YouTube

chantblog: Early Music Resource

2009-11-27T00:59:00.004-05:00

I recently came across a great resource for early music in the blogosphere:

chantblog

It includes links to recordings (YouTube, mp3, etc.), song transcripts, quotes from experts, as well as general information about chant and polyphony. Take a gander (but not under my frock).

Anonymous 4 and "Secret Voices": A Concert Review

2009-11-09T03:08:00.003-05:00

One unfortunate side effect of starting my journey from the very beginning of Western music was the relative obscurity of the subject matter -- medieval music isn't exactly a big draw and you really have to plan carefully if you want to attend a professional performance. As a consequence, it took me a full six months before I was finally able to make it to a concert with music from the time periods covered so far in the Journey. I thought it would be worthwhile to describe the experience here, especially considering that the performance included material that I hadn't covered in previous entries.

Unlike the other sections of my blog, the concert reviews will discuss the entire experience, including the skill of the performers and the atmosphere they create. Whereas most of my entries are designed to help develop familiarity with the different composers and styles of times gone by, I view the concerts as a sort of culmination -- whatever this music might have to offer, the live performance should present it in its purest form.

It is perhaps unfortunate, therefore, that I wasn't able to find a recording to familiarize myself with before attending this particular concert. The program was entitled "Secret Voices," and the set was performed by Anonymous 4, a famous quartet of vocalists/scholars based in New York City. Named after the author of an ancient treatise on medieval music (circa ~1280), Anonymous 4 has been performing medieval vocal music for over fifteen years. My first exposure to them was in a recording of ballate by Francesco Landini called "The Second Circle," where they delivered beautiful renditions, despite my general distaste for the composer. In "Secret Voices," their set is composed entirely of music from the Codex Las Huelgas, a tome of polyphony that was compiled for use in a medieval Spanish nunnery. Although scholars aren't sure whether the nuns themselves sang this music -- it was supposed to be forbidden for women to sing polyphony in those days -- Anonymous 4 choose to believe that they are following in the footsteps of these ancient pioneers.

Needless to say, the performance itself was excellent -- if there were flaws in their renditions, they were beyond my ear to catch -- but I still found myself somewhat disappointed by the experience. Some of the material was intriguing, including the rhythmically-bold Parens patris natique and the conductus that inspired "Secret Voices," Mater patris et filia. However, a great deal of the rest felt like filler; I find it hard to believe that the hexachord excercise, Fa fa mi/Ut re mi was, as the program declared, among the "greatest music of [the nuns'] time." Even the canon, Benedicamus Domino a 3, failed to impress with its barely-overlapping phrases.

I would note also that the quartet chose not to use any form of sound system for their performance. I was seated in the middle of a small auditorium and could hear them clearly enough, but even with skilled singers, a quartet of unamplified female voices will tend sound thin in a large concert hall. I've listened to a lot of pretonal music for my blog, but even I felt like their sound needed a stronger foundation... perhaps the Cistercian probation on women singing polyphony was motivated by more than simple gender discrimination.

Regardless, I want to tip my cap to Anonymous 4 for their efforts. Few music groups will devote themselves solely to early music, and fewer still will restrict their repertoire to the Medieval period. These are truly the origins of Western music. If I had an opportunity, I would see them again in a heartbeat and I recommend that others do the same.

Related Links: Secret Voices Program

The Burgundian School: Volume IV of the Hopeless Journey

2009-11-06T23:20:00.007-05:00

It seems that every new volume I put together becomes my favorite. Volume IV, which covers the period of the Burgundian School (1400 - ~1440), is no exception, though the music contained within is a considerable departure of that of the ars subtilior period covered in Volume III. Compared to their late medieval predecessors, the early Renaissance composers were more fond of grace and simplicity than experimentation. These trends are most vividly demonstrated in the work of Gilles Binchois, two of whose chansons are included in this playlist. The birth of triadic harmony is apparent in several pieces on the list, with John Dunstaple's "Veni Sancte Spiritus -- Veni Creator" being the best example. Finally, the most famous practitioner of the Burgundian style, Guillaume Dufay, is given his due respect, with four tracks including three motets and one chanson.

The order of the following tracks was selected for flow and is not chronological:

1. O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria
2. Nuper rosarum flores
3. Triste plaisir et douleureuse joie
4. De Cuer Je Soupire
5. Ma Belle Dame Souveraine
6. Confort d'amours
7. Veni Sancte Spiritus - Veni Creator
8. Ecclesiae militantis
9. Se la belle n'a le voloir
10. Salve flos Tuscae gentis
11. In Tua Memoria

The total running time is ~50 minutes.

The albums/collections I've heard, in order of preference:

1. Guillaume Dufay: Quadrivium - Beautiful performances of the best work by the best composer of the early 15th century. This recording focuses on Dufay's motets, all of which were written in the early part of his career before ~1440. I think Dufay was at his best when he was allowed the compositional freedom offered by the motet, so consider this a must-listen for this period.

2. Gilles Binchois: Chansons - A brilliant demonstration of the 15th-century aesthetic, Binchois' chansons emphasize melody above all else.

3. Dunstable: Sweet Harmony - This recording is a excellent compilation of Dunstaple's work, especially considering the limited number of his pieces that have survived to the present day. Unlike some of the older collections, Sweet Harmony places emphasis on those elements of the music that made it so influential, most notably the full triadic harmonies.

4. Guillaume Dufay: Tempio dell'Onore e delle Vertù - Although probably not the best composer of chansons during his time (that honor should go to Binchois), Dufay's brilliance would occasionally shine through even in his secular. This recording is worthwhile, even if only for the beautiful "Ma Belle Dame Souveraine."

5. Music and Chants from the Time of Joan of Arc - For a somewhat broader view of the early 15th century, Music and Chants would be my recording of the choice. Not all of the selections are winners, but gems by Arnold de Lantins and Conrad Paumann stand out. Dufay's chansons are also well represented here.

6. Song for Francesca - An interesting but uneven sampling of late Trecento/early Renaissance pieces. The anonymous recordings stand out most pleasantly, though the collection includes works by Landini, Dufay, and Richard Loqueville.

7. Dunstaple: Musician to the Plantagenets - The Orlando Consort always deliver professional performances, but their selections from Dunstaple's catalog were somewhat underwhelming. This recording predates Sweet Harmony by a decade, so it may be that they were working from a more limited sampling of his music.

8. Dufay: Music for St. James the Greater - Perhaps spoiled by the triadic harmony and tonal feel of the later Renaissance masses, I found Music for St. James to be a bit tedious. The recording itself was widely considered to be breakthrough in the performance of early music -- my reaction is based more on a distaste for this compositional style. Perhaps the rigid forms would be more pleasing to less fanciful ears.

Latest Update: 11/07/09

Listening to Early Cyclic Masses

2009-10-17T23:55:00.011-04:00

We don't often think of listening to music as a skill; after all, those of us who aren't listening for the purpose of writing a paper or preparing for a performance are hoping that the music will serve us. There should be little or no obligation in the other direction...

And it's true, we owe nothing to the music. Nevertheless, I believe we do owe it to ourselves to put in the legwork when we have trouble understanding the appeal of a particular style of musical composition or performance. I can safely say that there have been few things in my life that have been more rewarding than discovering new music, but even putting that aside, understanding the appeal of music from another culture (or subculture, as the case may be) can help us to better understand the people who created it. If all United States politicians went out of their way to develop an appreciation for hip-hop, I guarantee this country would have fewer problems with racism.

There are no real political implications when it comes to developing an appreciation for early music, but the experience can still broaden one's horizons a great deal. For me, the most difficult musical form to develop an appreciation for was the cyclic mass. In addition to being very long (typically 30-90 minutes in length), cyclic masses don't feature a great deal of repetition and seldom put emphasis on melody. It is very easy to become disconnected from the music -- I often caught my mind wandering, even when using headphones.

It may be that part of the problem was my inability to place the music in its proper context. As the name suggests, these pieces were written to accompany religious masses, all together with the solemn adornments, vast halls, and pious followers. As it is, lying in bed with my headphones on scarcely seems an apt replacement. Nevertheless, I believe I am beginning to understand what the Renaissance composers were trying to achieve.

Some modern critics describe early cyclic masses as "ornamental," implying that they served only to decorate an already lavish ceremony. I don't think this description does these pieces justice, however. Late music critic, Wilfrid Mellers, was a bit more generous in reference to John Dunstaple's early cyclic masses:

"He was not concerned with his own emotional response, which could only seek incarnation in time, but was rather, like Machaut, concerned to create, through his music, an 'atmosphere' in which an act of revelation might occur. He did not know when, or even if, it would happen, but he did his best to create the conditions in which it might. Just as an Indian vina player would perform for hours or even, with a few necessary intermissions, all day or all night while his audience of 'participants" came and went, so the ritual music in a medieval cathedral might resound for hours, while the congregation fluctuated."

The reference to an Indian vina player may be a tad obscure, but the point is clear. These masses were not meant to be approached like a movie, for which the director aims to tell a cohesive story that suffers when viewed in pieces. Rather, it is more analogous to a meteor shower. Any momentary display of brilliance may sweep the listener off their feet, but successive bursts do little to build upon one another. A cyclic mass is, quite literally, equal to the sum of its parts.

With this realization, I became less concerned about keeping a constant focus on the music. Often I would play the masses in the background while doing work or surfing the internet and every now and then they would pull me in, providing a fleeting but soothing experience. Whether I will ever achieve a true "revelation" through cyclic masses... only time will tell. In the meantime, I will enjoy them for what they are.

Related Links: Wilfrid Mellers' book

De Cuer Je Soupire and Early Harmony: A Whisper of Things to Come

2009-10-15T02:28:00.014-04:00

Album: Music and Chants from the Time of Joan of Arc
Track: "De Cuer Je Soupire" (Track #9)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 vocalists
Musical Form: Lai
Year: before 1420

There are many ways in which Medieval and Renaissance music can present a challenge to the modern ear -- not least of which are its use of unfamiliar rhythms, musical modes, and dissonances. Perhaps the most difficult thing of all, however, is learning to listen to compositions that are based on the principles of polyphony. Crudely speaking, polyphony treats the voices of a composition as independent entities, each moving through the musical space in a manner that is conscious of, but not tied to, the motion of the other voices. Unfortunately for the modern fan of early music, the majority of pieces composed since ~1600 have not been polyphonic, but have rather been based on the principles of harmony. Harmony, by contrast, treats the majority of voices in a piece like accompaniment to the melody, all coming together to form chords that change as the piece progresses.

To better understand the differences between the two approaches, think of a piece of music as a building. The parts of a polyphonic composition (the girders, bricks, etc.) are carefully interwoven so that the composite whole can remain stable and please the senses. However, this building lacks a foundation, so there are a limited number of ways in which pieces can be combined to achieve stability and still remain aesthetically pleasing. The use of harmony, however, provides the building with a foundation. Although the composer may use up many of the available parts to build this foundation, the stability it provides allows them more freedom in the design of the building. Whether or not the use of harmony over polyphony is better is a question of personal taste, but it is certainly easier, both on the composer and the listener.

Early Renaissance music was still being composed on the principles of polyphony, but there were hints of movement towards a more harmony-oriented style of composition. I already discussed the development of triads in 15th-century England. In "De Cuer Je Soupire," an anonymous composition included in a French manuscript written around ~1420, we hear two voices interacting in a manner that almost sounds like a chord progression. The higher voice clearly sings the melody and the lower voice acts as accompaniment. They undergo oblique motion for most of the piece, as the lower voice changes its pitch only for cadences and line changes. The effect is stunning, and perhaps somewhat familiar, at least in comparison to other compositions from the same time period.

Related Links: YouTube

Veni Sancte Spiritus and Missa Caput: Two Giant Leaps

2009-10-13T23:09:00.014-04:00

Album: Dunstable: Sweet Harmony Masses and Motets
Track: "Veni Sancte Spiritus - Veni Creator" (Track #11)
Composer: John Dunstaple
Instruments: four vocalists
Musical Form: isorhythmic motet
Year: ~1431

Although early Renaissance composers were in many respects less experimental than their late medieval predecessors, there were still a great many musical forms and techniques that were being developed in the early 15th century. In an earlier post, I discussed John Dunstaple's pioneering the use of triadic harmony in his compositions; this technique can be heard again in "Veni Sancte Spiritus," a popular motet composed around ~1430. The piece is progressive in many respects, including its use of a musical mode that corresponds to the modern major scale and also its relatively wide range of pitches (called the "tessitura").

The wide pitch range of "Veni Sancte Spiritus" is most noticable in the tenor, which at times functions like a bass line. The tenor fails to truly carry the rest of the piece as a modern bass line would, but each time it strikes a low note, the piece is given new life. It does not move towards a dynamical climax as we might expect from a symphony, but is rather almost cyclic, as the isorhythmic tenor paces the higher voices. With each repetition, we are given a new opportunity for spiritual transcendence, but it is not just handed to us... we must find it for ourselves.

Although we hear hints of it here, a true bass part would not appear in a Renaissance composition until "Missa Caput," a cyclic mass composed by an anonymous English composer sometime around 1440. I haven't been able to locate any easily accessible recordings of this mass, but many other mid-15th century masses were modeled after it and I will review some of these in later entries. English composers were particularly influential on their continental counterparts during this period, in part because of the English occupation of France during the Hundred Years War.

Related Links: Allmusic

On Math and Music: Pythagorean Tuning

2009-10-09T01:06:00.007-04:00

How was the first instrument tuned? On first glance, this question may seem similar to the chicken and egg quandary we learned as children -- simple but circular. When most of us tune an instrument, we generally resort to a mechanical device or another instrument. However, it turns out that the precise mathematical relationships that define musical intervals allow the unaided ear a limited ability to determine relative pitches without any mechanical assistance. As such, the first instrument could have, you might say, been tuned to "itself."

In fact, tuning by ear was quite common in the medieval and Renaissance periods, using a system called Pythagorean tuning. To understand how this works, consider first the octave. Given an arbitrary note, most people could quickly learn to find a pitch that was an octave above or below. The 2:1 ratio between the frequencies of the notes of an octave makes it easy for the ear to pinpoint these pitches, particularly if the two notes are played simultaneously. Therefore, from a starting pitch, the unaided ear could tune the pitches that were at intervals of 2:1, 4:1, 8:1, 16:1, etc. by finding the note an octave above the starting note, followed by the note an octave above that, and so forth. Using the inverse process, one could also identify notes at intervals of 1:2, 1:4, 1:8, 1:16, etc. Unfortunately, that only leaves us with a musical scale that sounds like this: listen.

Fortunately, the human ear can, without too much training, learn to identify another interval, the fifth. At a ratio of 3:2, this interval blends almost as smoothly as the octave, and again becomes easier to identify when the notes are played simultaneously. At first glance, the ability to tune a fifth may seem like a minor improvement, but this development actually gives us a great deal more freedom in frequency space. This fact is easier to see from the mathematical point of view.

Suppose I were to tackle the standard problem of constructing a scale of twelve tones between a pitch of arbitrary frequency and a pitch one octave up (frequency ratio of 2:1). Since I can tune a fifth, I automatically have one additional note at a ratio of 3:2, which gives me the following scale: 1:1, 3:2, 2:1 (listen). However, I can add to this by considering the pitch that is a fifth below the starting pitch: 2:3. Although this particular pitch is not between 1:1 and 2:1 and therefore does not belong in my scale, remember that I can tune intervals of both an octave and a fifth. Therefore, the following set of tunings is allowed:

1:1 -> down a fifth (x 3:2) = 2:3 -> up an octave (x 2:1) = 4:3

I now have a way to tune the following pitches: 1:1, 4:3, 3:2, and 2:1 (listen). Another pitch can be added with the following set of operations:

1:1 -> up a fifth (x 3:2) = 3:2 -> up a fifth (x 3:2) = 9:4 -> down an octave (x 1:2) = 9:8

If I continue performing tunings of this kind, I can construct a full twelve-tone scale with the following intervals from the root pitch: 1:1, 256:243, 9:8, 32:27, 81:64, 4:3, 1024:729, 3:2, 128:81, 27:16, 16:9, and 243:128. This technique of tuning is also known as the "circle of fifths," for obvious reasons. Note, however, that the scale doesn't include some of the small-number ratios I discussed in my intervals post, most notably 5:4 and 5:3. Although it includes intervals that are close to these frequency ratios (81:64 and 27:16, respectively), the major third and the major sixth still tend to sound more dissonant in the Pythagorean tuning system than in systems that give them small-number ratios. In fact, it was in part due to the widespread use of this tuning system that medieval composers favored intervals of a fourth and fifth over intervals of a third or a sixth. In the 15th century, as triadic harmony saw more widespread use in compositions, musicians began to favor other tuning methods.

Related Links: Extended discussion (medieval.org); Meantone temperament (wikipedia)

Guillaume Dufay's Chansons: A More Precise Melancholy

2009-10-07T01:48:00.010-04:00

Album: Guillaume Dufay: Tempio dell'Onore e delle Vertù
Track: "Ma belle dame souverainne" (Track #4)
Composer: Guillaume Dufay
Instruments: 4 vocalists
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: ~1420-1430

A simple-minded approach to the music of the Burgundian School might involve a survey of Guillaume Dufay's masses and motets, leaving Binchois as the sole purveyor of early-15th-century secular music. Although you wouldn't be far off the mark with that approach, Dufay's body of secular compositions is nothing to sneeze at. Fortunately, Cantica Symphonia recorded 18 of Dufay's chansons in Guillaume Dufay: Tempio dell'Onore e delle Vertù, showcasing this great composer's gift for melody as well as contrapuntal precision.

The result is a mixed bag. Dufay's style of epic, unrestrained polyphony is particularly well suited to songs that indulge in melancholy, such as "Ma belle dame souverainne." However, his more upbeat chansons, like "Navré je sui d'un art penetratif," have a tendency to sound bouncy and a tad frivolous. Perhaps it is actually the simplicity demanded by the genre that Dufay so struggles with -- one who makes a living adorning cathedral halls might struggle painting a portrait...

I think there is no question that Binchois is more graceful in his ability to relate to the optimism of the masses, but when Dufay strikes a sad chord, I find I am often slow to recover.

Related Links: Allmusic; YouTube

On Math and Music: Intervals

2009-10-03T22:24:00.017-04:00

Some believe that the most fundamental aspects of reality -- everything that we are and everything that we perceive -- ultimately come down to mathematics. It is the language of science and perhaps the only surviving bastion of irrefutable truths in the aftermath of the Age of Enlightenment. It is this irrefutable quality, this perfection of sorts, that also lends mathematics a certain beauty; in fact, the origin of all beauty may come down to simple mathematical relationships.

Our brains perceive mathematical relationships in countless ways, but perhaps none are so direct as the way in which we process sound. Suppose I were given two tuning forks, one designed for a frequency of 440 Hz and the other for 880 Hz. When I strike the first, the metal begins to vibrate, moving back and forth at a rate of 440 times per second. This vibration, in turn, causes the surrounding air molecules to oscillate at the same frequency, an oscillation that travels outwards from the tuning fork and reaches my ear. Assuming that the tuning fork continues to vibrate at this frequency, my brain will interpret the oscillation of air molecules as a steady and constant "pitch."

Now suppose I strike the second tuning fork, which vibrates 880 times per second. This new pitch corresponds to a frequency twice that of the first, and if I strike the second tuning fork while the first is sounding, they together produce a sound something like this. Notice how smoothly the pitches blend together. The interval heard here is called an "octave," a musical term reserved for any pair of pitches with a frequency ratio of 2:1. Our ear easily identifies the relationship between these two pitches because their frequencies are in a small, natural-number ratio to one another. By contrast, listen to the major seventh, an interval that corresponds to a frequency ratio of about 15:8. The blend is not nearly so pleasing to the ear.

When two pitches blend together well, like the octave, they are referred to as "stable," or a "consonance." Those that don't blend so well, such as the major seventh, are referred to as a "dissonance." In medieval music, the consonances were the octave (2:1), the perfect fifth (3:2, listen), and the perfect fourth (4:3, listen). In the early 15th century, starting with the Burgundian School, intervals of a major third (5:4, listen) and a major sixth (5:3, listen) began to be treated as consonances, allowing for developments such as triadic harmony.

Nuper Rosarum Flores: The Power of Dynamics

2009-10-02T21:29:00.017-04:00

Album: Guillaume Dufay: Quadrivium (motets)
Track: "Nuper Rosarum Flores" (Track #15)
Composer: Guillaume Dufay
Instruments: 4+ vocals, trumpet, organ, fiddle, harp
Musical Form: Isorhythmic motet
Composition for Comparison: "Lithium" by Nirvana (1991)
Year: 1436

As a teenager of the early '90s, still in the throes of adolescence, it was difficult to not get swept up in the pounding rhythms and catchy melodies of the grunge movement. In high school, I remember waking up every morning to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" -- the raucous transition between the opening guitar riff and distortion-heavy entrance of the bass and drums gave me something to be excited about at the start of a day that likely would, in all other respects, only erode my increasingly paltry teenage ego. There was something about the anticipation created by those guitar chords... a sort of musical foreplay by a song that knew to understate what it was soon to deliver.

This "soft-and-loud" dynamical technique was quite common in Nirvana's music and is perhaps most vividly demonstrated in "Lithium," a track off of their groundbreaking album, Nevermind. Note how the verse keeps a relatively low profile, emphasizing the lyrics and melody over the rhythm, while the chorus is an explosion of sound and a perfect expression of the "angst" that grunge music was known for exploiting. Kurt Cobain credited the Pixies with influencing his dynamical style, but this general technique had been around for many centuries before. Compare the verse-chorus transition of "Lithium" to the dynamical structure of Guillaume Dufay's "Nuper Rosarum Flores." To my ear, the effect is very similar. The melismatic, almost madrigaleque lines in the Triplum and Motetus (top two voices) are placed in contrast to the steady, booming rhythm provided by the bassus and tenor (bottom two voices) that enter 1:00 into the piece. I can imagine the dynamical changes would have sounded even more dramatic within the confines of a church sanctuary.

"Nuper Rosarum Flores" is famous for a variety of other reasons, perhaps most of all for being the last great isorhythmic motet. To some scholars, this represented a symbolic ending point for the medieval period of music, as the Renaissance style was noted for having a more free rhythmic form. Some have even claimed that the mathematical structure of the motet was formulated in order to mimic the proportions of the Santa Maria del Fiore cathedral, the building for which the piece was composed. My research has left me skeptical of this claim, however.

Related Links: YouTube (Dufay), YouTube (Nirvana), YouTube (Dufay, alternate version)

Fauxbourdon: A Treat for the Masses

2009-09-23T23:56:00.007-04:00

Album: Dufay: Music for St. James the Greater
Track: "Missa Sancti Jacobi: IX. Communio" (Track #9)
Composer: Guillaume Dufay
Instruments: 3 vocals
Musical Form: Mass setting
Year: ~1430

One of the chief challenges of composing polyphonic music in the 15th century, as well in all previous centuries, was satisfying your own artistic needs, while simultaneously satisfying the needs of the church/court for which you were composing. This problem was particularly severe with sacred music, where the church often demanded that the scripture be clearly understandable to churchgoers in hymns and masses. This would limit composers to using parallel and oblique motion for much of the duration of the piece, greatly decreasing its complexity. In modern music, this is somewhat analogous to a songwriter being forced to write simple pop tunes in order to garner attention and raise money for their work.

Perhaps as a response to this limitation, Guillaume Dufay invented a technique called "fauxbourdon," a form of three-part parallel vocal harmony in which the two bottom voices sing at intervals of a perfect fourth and a sixth below the top voice. To imagine how such a harmony would be constructed, think of the notes in a triadic harmony (the example given in the link is from "Twist and Shout"), but adjust the root note up an octave. Here is an example of what it sounds like when used in a piece of religious music (skip to 0:45). The net effect is to give the music a more full (or "tonal") sound than simple homophony, while leaving the lyrics easily understandable.

The first known example of this technique is in the last section (the Communion) of Dufay's "Missa Sancti Jacobi," composed around 1430. The sound is not quite as pleasing as Dunstaple's moving triads, but it serves its purpose. After Dufay's introduction of it in this mass, fauxbourdon would see widespread use in continental polyphony through the end of the 15th century, particularly by Burgundian composers.

Related Links: Allmusic, Youtube

Ga-ga for Google Books

2009-09-23T03:30:00.002-04:00

One of the most important events of the Information Age will be taking shape in the coming months. In October 2004, Google premiered its latest search engine at a book fair in Frankfurt, Germany. Then called Google print, the service allowed users to browse books that had been scanned into an electronic library using optical character recognition. The service is now called Google Books and has scanned over 7 million books into their library; certainly an impressive feat considering that only ~32 million books have been published in human history. Furthermore, after reaching a settlement with the Author's Guild and the publishing industry over copyright issues, Google is poised to greatly expand the fraction of their library that is available for preview and purchase.

Although some folks are still concerned about the terms of the settlement (privacy and antitrust issues, see the ASJA link below), it looks likely that the online availability of published material is going to increase in the coming months and years. In addition to being a major milestone for humanity, this service has been a tremendous help in researching my Hopeless Journey. When I search their database on a particular composer or composition, the volume of useful information that I can obtain from Google Books far exceeds that I can get from an ordinary Google search. Even for those books with limited previews, I need only browse a couple of paragraphs of the section that matched my search terms in order to obtain the information I'm looking for.

There is no doubt that Google Books will contribute a great deal to this blog. I'm old enough to remember what life was like before the internet... I have to say, this is a truly exciting time to be alive.

Related Links: Google Books, NYTimes article, Opposition from ASJA

The Development of the Cyclic Mass: A Great Service

2009-09-21T03:12:00.009-04:00

Album: Dunstaple: Musician to the Plantagenets
Track: "Missa Rex Seculorum" (Tracks #12-15)
Composer: John Dunstaple
Instruments: 3 vocals
Musical Form: Cyclic Mass
Year: ~1410 - 1440

When we consider the composers of early music, it is important to judge them not just on the music they themselves wrote, but also the future music they contributed to. Unlike a scholarly paper, a mass or a symphony does not include citations -- it is the task of music historians to trace the origins of the forms and styles that the composer used. In this respect, the early composers perhaps deserve more credit than our ears are inclined to give, as they helped to develop the conventions we now take for granted.

As the 15th century opened, composers were restricted to short musical forms; that is, secular chansons and sacred motets (both typically ~5-10 minutes in length). The first long-duration musical form to see mainstream popularity would be the cyclic mass, developed by the composers of the Burgundian school in the mid-15th century. You may recall that I first discussed the concept of a cyclic mass in a post on La Messe de Nostre Dame. That mass setting, which was composed by Guillaume de Machaut, may well have been the first of its kind, but was either unknown to his contemporaries or failed to inspire further development of the form, because it wasn't until the early 15th century that the cyclic mass was acknowledged as a genuine mode of composition. The first cyclic masses (after Machaut's) were written in England and were unified by a musical theme at the beginning of each section.

The example given, "Missa Rex Seculorum," was written by John Dunstaple and includes a Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei. Notice the uniformity in scoring and rhythm between the Gloria and Credo -- each starts with a duo, not adding the third voice until about a minute and half in, at which point the rhythm changes as well. The Sanctus benefits the most from Dunstaple's pre-Renaissance style, the thirds blending to create an elegant and immediately-appealing texture that wasn't possible in Machaut's sonic framework. Overall, however, the piece is lacking the energy and invention of Machaut's mass, suffering somewhat from the limited vocal arrangment (2- or 3-part polyphony). Even Dunstaple himself has composed individual mass settings with more flair.

Just as with triadic harmony, the early development of the cyclic mass has been lost to history due to the purging of the monasteries in 16th-century England. Fortunately, however, the form would quickly catch on in continental Europe and composers such as Dufay and Busnois would continue to develop it. In fact, many of their inventions would survive for over a century, as the cyclic mass wouldn't truly fall out of favor until the Baroque period, starting around 1600.

Just YouTube It

2009-09-19T22:52:00.003-04:00

Up till now, I hadn't been bothering with YouTube as a resource for medieval and Renaissance music, assuming that most of it was too obscure to be posted on that service. However, when I actually went and checked today, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that not only are many of the Hopeless Journey songs available, but also many of the specific recordings I've been listening to.

Since a link to YouTube allows casual web browsers to hear the songs I'm describing at the click of a mouse, I've decided to incorporate these links into the post headers. Whenever there is a link over a song title in one of my post headers, it goes to a YouTube recording of that composition. It won't always be the recording that I'm recommending in the header, but it will be to one that I think is similar enough to get my point across. If you want the specific recording referenced in the post header, it will usually be available on iTunes.

If a YouTube link goes dead, let me know and I'll try to find a replacement for it. I don't know what the typical lifetime of a YouTube link is, so I may abandon the practice if I find that they go dead too quickly.

John Dunstaple and Triadic Harmony: The Burgundian Three, Part III

2009-09-17T22:59:00.024-04:00

Album: Dunstable: Sweet Harmony Masses and Motets
Track: "Quam pulchra es" (Track #1)
Composer: John Dunstaple
Instruments: 3 vocals
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1410-1453
Composition for Comparison: "Twist and Shout" by the Beatles and "Surfer Girl" by the Beach Boys

The elegant melodies of Binchois inspired a generation of musicians and Dufay's epic compositions elicit awe and respect even from modern listeners, but the real revolution of Renaissance music began with John Dunstaple. This great English composer is credited with introducing a technique that is often taken for granted by the 21st-century ear: triadic harmony.

In short, a musical triad consists of the root, third, and fifth of a major scale and contains intervals of a third between successive notes. For you music-theory beginners out there, I've selected some modern, well-known songs to demonstrate what this sounds like. The first is "Twist and Shout" as performed by the Beatles, a rendition that should be familiar to anyone who has seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The majority of the song uses a single lead vocal with a pair of backing harmonies, but if you play to 1:25 into the recording, you'll hear the Beatles build into a triadic harmony, one note at a time. It begins with John Lennon singing the root note ("Ahhh...") over the twanging of George Harrison's lead guitar. Next George chimes in with the third, followed soon after by Paul with the fifth. At 1:28, they're in a full triadic harmony. It only holds a complete triad for the few seconds after 1:28 -- the sequence continues after that to the seventh, breaking the triad. The notes of a triad can also be struck simultaneously: C Triad.

It's not uncommon to hear full triadic harmony in modern music, particularly in pop music of the '50s and '60s. In "Surfer Girl," a song by the Beach Boys from 1963, they utilize it throughout much of the song, crafting the melody over top of the moving triads. In fact, the arrangement is in many ways similar to that of "Quam Pulchra Es," one of John Dunstaple's motets from the mid-15th century. This motet is one of the more blatant examples of how the interval of a third was being gradually promoted to the status of a consonance (that is, a stable musical interval) in the early Renaissance period. For those that have been following my Journey, this sudden addition of musical triads should be a very noticeable (and very welcome) change to early polyphony. Compare it to this early mass movement by Guillaume de Machaut, where fourths, fifths, and octaves dominate the harmonic structure. Although such intervals achieve a more "pure" sound, they are almost too easy for the human brain to process and we may be left feeling like something is missing.

Triadic harmonies were commonplace through most of the 15th century in England, but it won't be until the late 15th and early 16th centuries that the musical changes initiated by John Dunstaple and his English contemporaries begin to permeate the music coming from continental Europe. Unfortunately, because of Henry the VIII's dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530's, very little music survives from England in the preceding century and the process by which triadic harmony was introduced into polyphony may forever remain a mystery. Dunstaple was famous enough that some of his music has come down to us from continental sources, but the catalog of surviving music doesn't even approach that of contemporaries like Dufay and Binchois. This is indeed a shame, as many argue that John Dunstaple was the most influential English composer of all time.

Related Links: Allmusic, YouTube, Triads in Medieval Music, Intervals

Guillaume Dufay: The Burgundian Three, Part II

2009-09-15T15:44:00.009-04:00

Album: Guillaume Dufay: Quadrivium (motets)
Track: "Salve flos Tuscae gentis" (Track #1)
Composer: Guillaume Dufay
Instruments: 3 vocal, 1 trumpet/organ
Musical Form: Motet
Year: 1436

The expression, "knowledge is power," never sat well with me. That's not to say that I would discourage the collection of knowledge or the exploration of new things, nor would I disagree that the enlightened hold a certain power over the ignorant. What troubles me here is the use of the word, "knowledge." Is it enough to just know something, or does the true power (and joy) come from the deeper connection that's formed when we understand? The Hopeless Journey is built on this premise. It's not my goal to collect old music and add it to my music library; rather, I want to learn to hear what the ancients heard. I want to discover new ways of listening and understand why this music resonated with the people of its time.

One of my first and greatest challenges in this regard was Guillaume Dufay. It was over five months ago that I first downloaded Quadrivium amidst the initial exploratory phases of the Journey. As a person who spent most of his life listening to rock and pop, the experience of listening to this recordings was bewildering, to say the least. What could this music possibly have to offer me? The rhythms were simple, and the voices predominantly sang in intervals of fourths, fifths, and octaves. It struck me as difficult to understand why anyone ever liked this music; even the melody seemed like an afterthought.

Fortunately, I have been listening to music long enough to know that this is an exciting place to start. For the few weeks after I downloaded the recording (and intermittently during the following months), I played it to myself while I was working, before I went to sleep at night, and even while I was in the bath. At first, the music played very much as background, minimally distracting like a Kenny Loggins song played over the speakers of an elevator. Every now and then, when my focus was fixed on other minutiae of my life, the music would grab me. as if some transcendant sequence of notes had been struck... but as soon as my focus returned, the feeling faded.

Eventually, I began to understand. Traditional folk and popular music are designed to carry the listener in a direction wholly dictated by the composer. We all tap our feet to a Beatles song because we all feel connected to the melody -- our understanding of the music is shared and we trust the composer to take us somewhere interesting. Guillaume Dufay has no such intentions. A Dufay motet is a work of precision, a musical sculpture that we are encouraged to appreciate, but whose interpretation is not handed to us. Eventually, I began to incorporate this understanding into the way I listened. I stopped listening for musical phrases that were recognizable or catchy and began relaxing my ears, allowing the music to permeate my subconscious. I soon discovered that I not only understood why Dufay's music was so revered, but I began to think him a musical (and perhaps mathematical) genius.

I invite everyone to experience this for themselves with "Salve flos Tuscae gentis," my favorite of Dufay's motets. Guillaume Dufay is the most highly-regarded musician of his time -- his music and influence spanned the entire 15-century musical spectrum, including chansons, motets, and cyclic masses. In many ways, the progression of Dufay's work both mirrors and marks the development of polyphony in the early Renaissance and some even credit him with ending the medieval musical era on continental Europe. He will doubtless make an appearance in many more of my posts in the coming months, so think of the above motet as a starting point.

Related Links: YouTube, Allmusic

iTunes LP: Information Please

2009-09-13T01:45:00.004-04:00

In the latest update to what is, for the most part, an excellent music service, Apple has unveiled iTunes LP. This upgrade to the traditional iTunes format allows users to interactively browse the inserts and cover art that would normally go along with a hard-copy CD or album. Previously, CD inserts were only available through iTunes in the form of PDF files that could be downloaded along with some of the albums in their catalog.

While I applaud Apple's effort to further resuscitate "album art," I'm disappointed that they haven't addressed the primary issue -- the very small number of albums for which booklets are available. In the past few years, I've downloaded over 30 albums and only three of them had an accompanying PDF booklet. In fact, none of the albums I've downloaded for my Hopeless Journey have had booklets and it is these classical albums for which I am most in need of information. Even if Apple doesn't do it, somebody needs find a way to distribute information along with classical recordings; I can't imagine that many consumers already know enough about the works of Philippe de Vitry or Guillaume de Machaut to really understand what they're listening to when they hear a recording of medieval music. While Allmusic provides a partial solution with its scholarly discussions of famous compositions, these discussions are generally limited to the big-name composers and award-winning albums.

Maybe I'm spoiled by the Information Age, but really... information please!

Ars Subtilior and the Late Trecento: Volume III of the Hopeless Journey

2009-09-12T02:27:00.017-04:00

The quantity of recorded music from the ars subtilior and late Trecento period (~1370 - 1400) is actually quite sparse, but the music is so intriguing that I had no trouble compiling a volume worth of my favorite tracks. I highly recommend this particular volume.

The ars subtilior was not dominated by any particular composer, although Baude Cordier makes two appearances on this collection. The late Trecento period is represented by Johannes Ciconia, an exhuberant Italian composer with a taste for French music. His works are rife with hocket and imitation, decorated with melismatic interludes. The order of the following tracks was selected for flow and is not chronological:

1. Una panthera
2. Belle, Bonne, Sage
3. Leray au soleyl
4. O felix templum jubila
5. Tout Par Compas (recommend recorder version)
6. Dieux gart
7. Fumeux Fume Par Fumee
8. Doctorum principem -- Melodia suavissima -- Vir mitis
9. En Seumeillant

The total running time is ~45 minutes.

The albums/collections I've heard, in order of preference:

1. The Saracen and the Dove - I already devoted a blog post to this album -- it is probably my Journey favorite to this point.

2. Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux) - This album includes vocal performances of some of the must-hear ars subtilior pieces, including "Belle, Bonne, Sage" and "Fumeux Fume Par Fumee." Unfortunately, it also includes some mediocre instrumental interludes.

3. En Seumeillant (French Ars Subtilior) - It's hard to believe that they can do so much with a trio of bass recorders, but this album really stands out for its interpretation of the ars subtilior pieces. Although Codex Chantilly presents more historically accurate renditions, I still recommend checking out this recording.

4. Popes & Antipopes - Music for the Courts of Avignon & Rome - The latter half of this album dips into the Renaissance, but the whole thing falls kind of flat anyway. Although from the same group that did Saracen, their choice of material here may have sacrificed quality for thematic continuity (songs about the Great Schism).

Latest Update: 09/12/09

Awareness of Sound Quality: A Look at How We Listen

2009-09-11T01:37:00.001-04:00

I never really considered myself an audio snob in the past. Until recently, I listened primarily to rock music, a genre that, although often rich in texture, is not hurt a great deal by a small loss in sound quality. I would happily don five-dollar headphones or transmit my music over the relentless static of a mostly-unused radio frequency... sometimes I felt like the raw sound actually contributed to the power of the music. Not so with classical.

As we delve into the Renaissance period, it is going to become more and more important to listen with a good sound system. The more vocal texture a composer adds to his pieces, the more we lose when we settle for low sound quality. Last night, I found myself overwhelmed by the power of a cyclic mass by Petrus de Domarto and it occurred to me that I had heard the mass before and experienced nowhere near the same level of bliss. I eventually realized that the previous time I had been listening through my iPod, while last night I had been listening through iTunes on my laptop. Needless to say, in the future legs of my journey I'll be avoiding the use of portable audio whenever possible.

Traditionally, sound quality has depended on the speakers/headphones and the player, but in the digital age the encoding of the audio file is also important. If you want to listen to classical music, particularly of the choral variety, I recommend listening through a pair of noise-canceling headphones and a relatively powerful source (like a computer or stereo system). In general, you'll also get better sound quality from a CD than a sound file with "lossy" encoding (this includes anything from iTunes), but I haven't found this to be essential. Of course, there are plenty of more expensive options for those who are even pickier than I am -- see the link below if this is you.

If you're stuck with cheapy equipment and portable audio, don't fret, there is still plenty to discover in early music. The important thing is just to be aware of the difference sound quality can make and to bear it in mind when you choose how you listen.

Related Links: Portable Audio for Snobs

Anonymous Composers: The Price of Anonymity

2009-09-10T02:27:00.005-04:00

Album: Song for Fransesca
Track: "O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria" and "Confort d'amours" (Tracks #10 and 15)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: motet and rondeau
Year: ~1400-1430

It is an unfortunate fact of life that the appreciation of art is dependent upon who we can ascribe it to. Perhaps we have a primitive need for an idol, an artist who we can hold up as a standard for excellence, either for ourselves or for others... or perhaps we don't trust ourselves to judge a work of art unless we know the source. Whatever the reason, anonymous compositions from the medieval and renaissance period are difficult to come by in modern recordings. The vast majority of the existing choral recordings of early music are from the big-name composers, but every now and then a recording artist will include anonymous works on their album.

A number of such works were included on the recording, Song for Francesca, including the motet, "O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria," and the rondeau, "Confort d'amours." These are two of the best compositions that I've heard in my journey thus far, but I'm afraid that there is little I can say about them. I know that they were composed sometime in the late 14th or early 15th century in France and are fairly advanced, four-part works. The latter contains an intriguing rhythmic structure and may have been influenced by the ars subtilior. They also sound as if they could be isorhythmic, but I don't have the sheet music to confirm this.

Related Links: Song for Francesca review

Gilles Binchois: The Burgundian Three, Part I

2009-09-09T02:11:00.011-04:00

Album: Gilles Binchois: Chansons
Track: "En regardent vostre tres doulx maintiens" (Track #4)
Composer: Gilles Binchois
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 harp
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: ~1420 - 1460

The most intangible qualities of an age gone by are captured in the echoes of ancient melodies. We know what they said and what they made, where they went and what they did... and who they were. Yet nothing probes the subconscious mind of distant peoples as do the notes that struck them. There may have been no musician of the 15th century more immediately influential than Gilles Binchois, and the reason lies solely with the melodies he crafted.

Active from ~1420 until his death in 1460, Gilles Binchois is one of the three driving members of what became known as the Burgundian School, a group of composers working under the Dukes of Burgundy. The early work of these composers more or less set the tone for Renaissance music into the 16th century. Each composer specialized in a different style of polyphony -- Binchois' specialty was the chanson (a blanket term for secular music of the time). The rondeau, "En regardent vostre tres doulx maintiens," is an excellent demonstration of why his chansons were so well regarded. The melancholic melody is so graceful that it requires minimal accompaniment to carry the listener.

Much as with the work of Francesco Landini, I experienced an internal resistance to this music on my first exposure to it. The arrangements seldom utilize more than three voices/instruments and have minimal counterpoint... it feels in many ways like the early troubadour songs with only slight polyphonic embellishments. However, the simplicity of Binchois' polyphony belies the grace of its construction. As I became more familiar with the individual pieces, I found that the very slight deviations from parallel motion in the voices acted to deepen my anticipation of the cadences. It was an embellishment of something old, but in a way that was, in the 15th century, profoundly new.

To the modern listener, what Binchois has to offer is a very accessible demonstration of the 15th century aesthetic. The more complex polyphony of Dufay and Ockeghem will feel more approachable after developing a taste for Binchois, as the melodies he constructed in his chansons were very much representative of the Renaissance period. In many ways, his work parallels modern folk music, with lyrical songs that place an emphasis on melody and story-telling. Few modern listeners will understand what he is actually saying, but suffice to say that he writes primarily about courtly love. The album, Gilles Binchois: Chansons, contains 17 of his chansons and is an excellent place to start with Renaissance music.

Related Links: Allmusic

Discontinuing Journey Highlights

2009-09-08T02:57:00.003-04:00

I have decided to discontinue the monthly journey highlights. I found that these posts contained mostly redundant material and my blog doesn't see enough readership for such summaries to be useful. Furthermore, posts on the Hopeless Journey Volumes serve nearly the same purpose and provide a better summary of the recent legs of my journey. I will of course continue to comment on those composers and tracks I find the most appealing, so please keep reading if you find such reviews useful.

The Dawn of the Renaissance: A Return to Elegance

2009-09-05T01:14:00.007-04:00

As we turn the corner into the 15th century, we pass out of the medieval period and into the Renaissance. The bold experimentation of the ars nova and ars subtilior will give way to more graceful polyphony, replete with new sonorities and more sophisticated contrapuntal techniques. Experimentation will continue, but the oft-disorienting rhythmic subtleties of the Chantilly Codex will take a back seat to more accessible compositional styles represented by the Burgundian School (more on this soon). The increasing popularity and distribution of polyphony will mean that composers are writing for an audience somewhat larger than a handful of idiosyncratic noblemen... and the invention of the printing press in 1440 will ensure that a larger fraction of compositions will survive to appear in the iTunes store.

Before I move on, however, I want to reflect on where I've been. It has been six months since I started on the Hopeless Journey and, although I don't think the number of people reading this blog is any greater than it was in April, my own immersion in the journey has far surpassed my original expectations. I haven't enjoyed everything I've heard, but every new composer brings with them a new way of listening to music and a new way of enjoying it. The complex rhythms of the ars subtilior constantly threaten to slip from my grasp, but even a simple troubadour melody lays out before me like a puzzle -- perhaps it's simple to solve, but first I have to learn to speak the musical language.

And here I am, hopefully having eked out a sense for what medieval ears were hearing. As I continue on, the cultural divide will get narrower, but compositional techniques will increase in sophistication and the breadth of Western musical culture will expand. The new challenges may force me to modify my approach to the journey, but I hope to retain the current blog format, or at least something very similar. If you are reading, please, every now and then take the time to download some of the songs I discuss. Without that context, I'm afraid much of what I'm saying will seem distant or obscure. The reality is that I found medieval and Renaissance music to be quite the opposite. The songs are not as catchy or immediately accessible as their 20th- and 21st-century counterparts, but the musical ideas are easy to understand. These composers were more or less starting from scratch and if you approach the music from that same point of view, you will eventually be able to see the beauty that they hoped to communicate.

Una Panthera: A Meeting of the Minds

2009-09-02T01:21:00.006-04:00

Album: Saracen and the Dove
Track: "Una Panthera" (Track #10)
Composer: Johannes Ciconia
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Madrigal
Year: 1399

New music is born at the intersection of pre-existing movements; this truism is well known by punks as much as by classical composers. Unfortunately, during the late medieval period, musical cross-fertilization was a slow and difficult process, in no small part due to the Black Plague that was ravaging Europe. Nevertheless, one musical patron, a man by the name of Gaston Febus, managed to both navigate the turmoil of the times and foster an atmosphere of invention in his court. To the music world, he was much like a medieval Andy Warhol, attracting the great composers of the day and encouraging them to compose in the complex ars subtilior style.

In addition to having its own cast of talented musicans, Febus' court attracted many visiting composers, including those from Italy. In the late 14th century, the Italian Trecento was itself flourishing, pioneering musical techniques and forms, such as the canon and imitation, led by composers such as Johaness Ciconia. It is not known whether Ciconia ever visited Febus' court, but it is clear that the ars subtilior style had a big influence on his later work, most notably "Una panthera." This madrigal can be heard to alternate between the elegant fluidity of the Italian Trecento and the rhythmic experimentation of the ars subtilior.

As it would turn out, the late Trecento period (late 14th century and early 15th century) would be the last hurrah for the elaborate experimentation characteristic of the ars subtilior. Early Renaissance compositions saw a return to a more graceful (and accessible) style that, although not lacking in beauty, lacked the cerebral sophistication of the music coming from the court of Gaston Febus. Compositions with such rhythmic complexity would not be heard again until the 20th century.

Related Links: Gaston Febus, Allmusic

Sumer Is Icumen In: Cuckoo for Canons

2009-08-28T01:38:00.010-04:00

Album: Between March and April
Track: "Sumer Is Icumen In" (Track #20)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Canon
Year: ~1250

Before I continue my Hopeless Journey into the Renaissance, I'd like to take a quick step back to mid-13th century England. You'll notice that England has been completely absent from my coverage of medieval music -- the primary reason for this is the scarcity of available sources. Most polyphony from the medieval period was sacred and the majority of English sacred music was destroyed during the dissolution of the monasteries, part of the English Reformation, in the 16th century. Fortunately, some English secular music has survived to the present day, including the famous canon, "Sumer Is Icumen In."

The canon really is a remarkable musical form: simple in structure, but complex in its presentation. A canon usually begins with a single musical line, sung by one or more singers. Before the line is completed, another voice begins singing the same (or a similar) musical line after a specified duration of time. Depending upon the complexity of the canon, this process can be repeated an arbitrary number of times, with new vocies appearing at intervals specified by the composer. To American ears, the most familiar canon is probably, "Row, row, row your boat," a campfire song written sometime in the 19th century. For that song, the second singer begins after the first has completed one measure, the third after he has completed two, and so forth.

"Sumer Is Icumen In" is similar to "Row, row, row your boat" in that it is a simple, light-hearted song that could conceivably have been performed for children (it means, quite literally, "Summer has come in"). It was written for six parts and is actually the first known example of six-part polyphony. Canons didn't really rise to prominence in sacred (or "artistic") music until the late 14th century, when the technique was pioneered by Italian composers and it wasn't until the mid 15th century that it began to catch on in the rest of Europe. Needless to say, these canons contained a great deal more complexity and depth than "Sumer Is Icumen In."

Related Links: YouTube, Wikipedia (includes translation)

Ars Nova: Volume II of the Hopeless Journey

2009-08-27T00:46:00.010-04:00

The ars nova (~1320 - 1380) is a difficult time period to cover in a compilation, largely because of the scarcity of sources available to modern musicians. The collection is necessarily skewed towards Guillaume de Machaut, both because he was the best composer of the period and because he went out of his way to catalog his work before he died. All of the pieces listed below are French except for "Vestisse La Cornachia" and "Nella partita pianson," which are Italian. The latter is by Francesco Landini who, despite my distaste for his music, is a necessary component of any ars nova collection. The first track, "Douce Dame," is off of a difficult-to-find recording of the Roman de Fauvel by the Clemencic Consort, so if you can't locate that track, I suggest "Impudenter Circumivi" in its place.

1. Douce Dame (alternative: Impudenter Circumivi)
2. Clap, clap, par un matin
3. Vestisse La Cornachia
4. Douce Dame Jolie
5. Kyrie from La Messe De Nostre Dame
6. Lasse! comment oublieray
7. Nella partita pianson
8. Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement

The total running time is ~35 minutes.

The albums/collections I've heard, in order of preference:

1. De Machaut: La Messe De Nostr Dame - A magnificent recording of the first ever cyclic mass. The only of these collections I would recommend even to casual listeners.

2. Machaut: Chansons - A collection of Guillaume de Machaut's chansons (including ballades, rondeaux, and virelais). Notably lacking "Douce Dame Jolie," but otherwise a very pleasurable listen.

3. Roman de Fauvel - The only of these recordings that really captures the more "edgy" beginnings of the ars nova musical revolution. Difficult to find, but worth the effort.

4. Music of the Gothic Era - A rather diverse sampling of early medieval music that
also includes ars antiqua pieces.

5. The Second Circle: Love Songs of Francesco Landini - A famous early music female vocal group, Anonymous 4, performs a sampling of Landini's ballate. A rather bland set of compositions, in my opinion, but not unrepresentative of his work.

6. Guillaume de Machaut: Motets & Music From The Ivrea Codex - A collection of sacred music from one of the principal source for ars nova music, the Ivrea Codex. Except for some of Machaut's pieces, this collection falls rather flat. Nevertheless, it presents some of the anonymous work from the period.

Latest Update: 08/27/09

Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement: Bound by Symmetry

2009-08-26T20:29:00.014-04:00

Album: Machaut: Chansons
Track: "Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement" (Track #13)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: ~1330-1350

There is something about symmetry, whether visual, auditory, or even tactile, that appeals to the human mind. We associate it with beauty, perhaps as much due to the ease with which we process it as its association with genetic quality in a mate. Although it is more often associated with the visual arts, musicians have been using symmetry in their compositions for millenia, allowing its predictability to massage our subconscious as we tackle the artist's larger purpose.

Perhaps the most striking demonstration of symmetry in medieval polyphony is in "Ma Fin Est Mon Commencement," a rondeau by Guillaume de Machaut. Even a passing familiarity with the French language (modern or otherwise) should allow one to translate the title: "My end is my beginning." And so it is -- the musical lines in this piece each display a certain symmetry. The lowest voice, the tenor, sings a line that sounds identical when sung in reverse. Furthermore, the cantus (2nd voice) and triplum (highest voice) sing lines that are the mirror images of one another. The net result is something that feels strikingly familiar, even on a first listen. I think this familiarity sprung from a subconscious recognition of the underlying patterns in the piece; I doubt I would have picked up on the symmetry without being told.

Indeed, large-scale patterns were the norm in the ars nova, as isorhythm dominated the rhythmic structure of motets during that period. It seems likely that this piece also bears some relation to a burgeoning art form, the canon (more on this soon), although it predates the widespread use of that technique in French polyphony. It is certainly not Machaut's best work, but its novelty value alone makes it worth a listen.

Related Links: YouTube, Allmusic.com

All I Can Expect

2009-08-23T00:25:00.009-04:00

I recently discovered that Allmusic.com has compiled a virtual treasure trove of information on classical composers and even individual classical pieces, far beyond that found on wikipedia. The reviews are remarkably erudite considering the open nature of the source. Since I download most of my music from iTunes, I don't get any booklets with the music I buy, but the list of reviews on Answers.com is often a more than satisfactory substitute, as it usually contains historical context, musical analysis, and biographical information on the composer. Of course, I can't be sure that the information is accurate, but I expect it's close enough for those of us that aren't planning to write a thesis on the material. In the future, when I write about a particular composition, I'll try to include links to the reviews along with my blog entries (see "Related Links," below).

Related Links: Allmusic.com

Kalenda Maya: You Can Dance if You Want To

2009-08-19T23:04:00.012-04:00

Album: The Dante Troubadours
Track: "Kalenda Maya" (Track #11)
Composer: Raimbaut de Vaqueiras
Musical Form: Dance music, Troubadour song
Year: ~1200

One of the difficulties with listening to dance music is that is wasn't really meant to just be listened to. I know, dance music isn't supposed to be deep -- I'm supposed to let the rhythm of the music carry me away. Problem is, it always takes me somewhere boring. I was hoping that something I found on my Hopeless Journey would free me of this prejudice, but so far I've been unimpressed.

One of the earliest recorded examples of dance music is "Kalenda Maya," a song with lyrics written by a troubadour called Raimbaut de Vaqueiras (no relation to John Rambo, I think). The melody was composed by some long-forgotten jongleur who fancied plucking triple-meter ditties for drunk Frenchmen for naught but a swig of brandy... or somesuch. Thing is, dance music was seldom written down in medieval times because it wasn't considered important enough. The troubadours would tell you that if a jongleur could compose a danceable melody, anybody could. Regardless, this one was written down because a troubadour decided to put poetry to it and make it respectable. I'm not sure they succeeded, but I'll let you judge that for yourself.

The type of dance that this song was written for was the estampie, in which the dancer either dances with only one foot or stamps both feet... etymologists aren't quite sure which (I wonder who got a Ph.D. for that). Anyway, the dance is a close relative of the Saltarello, a medieval dance that appeared in Italy in the 13th century that gets a good bit of attention in modern popular culture. One notable recording of a Saltarello is by Dead Can Dance, an '80s group famous for popularizing "world music."

For the time being, I can't recommend spending a lot of time on saltarellos or estampies, but this may change as I delve into the Renaissance. Gutenberg invented his printing press in 1440, and the standards for what was considered worthy of being written down dropped significantly. Perhaps the propagation of written dance music even brought it to the level of an art form...

External Links: YouTube

Johannes Ciconia: Art Imitates Art

2009-08-12T01:11:00.011-04:00

Album: The Saracen and the Dove
Track: "Doctorum principem - Melodia suavissima - Vir mitis" (Track #1)
Composer: Johannes Ciconia
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: 1409 - 1411

For an artist, catching someone's attention is much more difficult than it may seem at first. It doesn't matter the form of expression, a work of art always seems much more significant to the maker than it does to the casual listener. Over the years, musicians in particular have developed a wide variety of techniques to help overcome this difficulty, the synthesis of which led to what we would now call "pop" music. If implemented carelessly, the use of pop techniques can cheapen music, but in the hands of a gifted composer, their use can enhance the elegance and impact of a piece.

Among the most common tools of this trade is repetition. Whether on the scale of short sequences of notes or entire verses, repetition acts to reinforce a particular musical or lyrical theme. Even in medieval times, composers made use of repeated poetic stanzas (as in, for example, the virelai) or musical sections. In the late Trecento period, composers used "imitation," in which brief musical passages would be repeated, one singer after another. The repetitions were not always identical to the original passage, but the effect often resembled an echo.

Imitation was a particularly potent musical tool when combined with the hocket, as can be heard in "Doctorum principem - Melodia suavissima - Vir mitis," by Johannes Ciconia. The motet is about Francesco Zarabella, the archpriest of Padua Cathedral in the early 15th century, and it makes extensive use of the imitation and hocket techniques to construct an emphatic tribute to the man and his cathedral. The rapid melodic jumps, particularly at the end of the piece, are vaguely reminiscent of modern electronic music, but lend a more regal feel to the music in this context. This is one of the most impressive performances on the engaging album, The Saracen and the Dove, so I highly recommend it.

Related Links: YouTube, Doctorum Principem

Saracen and the Dove: This Dove Can Fly

2009-08-05T23:12:00.008-04:00

Album: The Saracen and the Dove
Instruments: Vocal
Musical Form: Mixed Sacred Music
Period: Late Trecento (~1380-1420)

I had nearly lost hope for Trecento music after listening to the work of its supposed shining star, Francesco Landini. However, the recording, The Saracen and the Dove, is one of the most impressive and fascinating that I've heard so far. It is a collection of music from the late Trecento period, especially highlighting the work of Johannes Ciconia and Antonia Zachara da Teramo. Included in the collection are motets, madrigals, ballata, and even a short canon (like a round, more on this in a later post). In addition, although this blog has thus far avoided discussing individual performances and recording artists, I feel inclined to tip my cap to the vocal group, the Orlando Consort. I've encountered them several times on my journey and every time they have delivered superb vocal renditions, often of extremely difficult material. The Saracen and the Dove is no exception, give it a listen.

Related Links: Orlando Consort

Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée: Putting the Hippies to Shame

2009-08-01T03:21:00.013-04:00

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades and Rondeaux)
Track: "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée" (Track #10)
Composer: Solage
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: 1389
Composition for Comparison: "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground

Now this one's a real gem... here I thought I was going to have to wait until I reached the 20th century to partake in the drifting melodies of a composition crafted amidst a drug-induced haze. Go right now to iTunes (or your favored equivalent) and download "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée," a rondeau composed by Solage in the late 14th century. Also, go and download "Heroin" by the Velvet Underground as well, being sure to play the two songs in succession.

Before you listen, let me provide a little background on the Solage piece. It was written about a "secret" society of smokers from 14th century France, where men would gather to smoke drugs of various kinds, including tobacco and hashish. It's not known for sure if Solage was a member of this club, but the unusual character of his music has led many scholars to speculate to this effect. The composition is distinctively ars subtilior; that is, many of the rhythmic techniques it uses are actually typical of the period. Nevertheless, little else about the piece could be called normal from any point of view.

Possibly the most striking thing about "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée" is the way in which the vocal parts descend chromatically, both in short sections and throughout the piece. By the end, the vocal parts extend to a register far lower than found in the majority of polyphonic compositions of the period. The net effect is a feeling of aimless wandering, as the melody doesn't seem to be progressing to a definite conclusion and the vocal parts feel as if they're interacting in an increasingly counterproductive manner.

The melody in the Velvet Underground song, "Heroin," is relatively benign by comparison, but the song manages to achieve the same sense of aimless drifting with its erratic dynamic structure and heavy use of syncopation. It's certainly interesting that composers separated by 600 years manage to communicate drug addiction in such a distinctive and unconventional manner. Another song from the 20th century that makes for an interesting comparison is "The Crunge," by Led Zeppelin, which is about marijuana and, like "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée," features syncopated, chromatic progressions.

Related Links: YouTube, "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée"

Journey Highlights: July 2009

2009-08-01T02:56:00.004-04:00

Composer of the Month: Guillaume de Machaut

There is really no equal for Guillaume de Machaut in the late medieval period. His work has already been the subject of four Hopeless Journey blog entries, each covering a different musical form. He is the composer of arguably the most recognizable song from the medieval period, "Douce Dame Jolie,", and he is the first person known to have composed a cyclic mass. I would recommend different recordings to different folks, but at minimum, you should listen to "Douce Dame Jolie" and the Kyrie from La Messe de Nostre Dame.

Composition of the Month: "En Seumeillant" (Trebor)

The somber grace of "En Seumeillant" is truly timeless. Despite my failure to uncover a vocal performance of the piece, I would still mark it as my favorite of the ars subtilior period and would recommend it to anyone. A close runner-up is "Belle, Bonne, Sage," of which there are many excellent recordings. Its upbeat and offbeat melody are in stark contrast to "En Seumeillant," despite sharing the syncopative rhythmic style so characteristic of ars subtilior compositions.

Ars Antiqua: Volume I of the Hopeless Journey

2009-07-25T03:40:00.011-04:00

The inclusion of a cantiga de amigo puts the finishing touches on the first collection of music from my Hopeless Journey. What follows is a playlist of songs written before ~1320 (the approximate beginning of the ars nova period) that I consider to be among the best I've encountered on my travels. The purpose of this list is not to recommend any particular set of recordings, but rather to compile a set of compositions that represent a fair sampling of the time period and provide a pleasant listening experience. The ordering of the list attempts to compromise between listenability and chronological development, with an emphasis on the former. I may update the volume (add and/or remove tracks) as I continue to listen to music from the period.

1. Reis Glorios
2. Viderunt Omnes (Track #3, Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame)
3. Sederunt Principes
4. Cantiga de amgio: Ai Deus, se sab'ora meu amigo
5. Hoquetus I-VII - Neuma / Virgo / In seculum longum / D'Amiens longum / In seculum
6. Beata Viscera

The total running time is ~40-45 minutes, depending upon which versions you download.

I haven't sampled a great many albums/collections as compared to the total volume of recordings out there, but the best I've heard, in order of preference, are

1. Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame - A collection of Notre Dame polyphony from ~1200, presented in the order of musical development
2. Music of the Gothic Era - A rather diverse sampling of early medieval music that
also includes ars nova pieces
3. Wanderers' Voices - Medieval Cantigas & Minnesang - The nicest set of monophonic medieval songs that I've heard
4. Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs - relatively bare-bones recordings of some of the better troubadour songs.

I don't have much to offer those looking for recordings of Gregorian chant, as I wasn't impressed with anything I heard. However, Salve Regina: Gregorian Chant is one of the more critically acclaimed collections.

Latest Update: 09/01/09

Cantigas de Amigo: The Gender-Confused Jongleur

2009-07-25T01:06:00.011-04:00

Album: Wanderers' Voices - Medieval Cantigas & Minnesang
Track: "Cantigas de amigo" (Track #11-17)
Composer: Martin Codax
Instruments: 1 vielle, 1 voice
Musical Form: Cantiga
Year: ~1230 - 1300

Not everyone who listens to the Beatles' recording, "Please Mister Postman" (a song from their Cavern Club days that made it onto With the Beatles), realizes that the original version of the song was written from the point of view of a woman. The song was first released as a single by the Marvelettes in 1961 and laments the tragedy of a woe begotten girl whose boyfriend is away at war. Desperate for word from her beau, she implores the postman for comfort, with "just a card... or just a letter." Alas, the song ends with her unanswered pleas fading into the distance... If you're familiar with the Beatles' recording, this image likely never entered your mind, as the fab four deftly transformed it into a fast-paced power pop number, with guitars ringing and John Lennon belting out the now pronoun-reversed lyrics.

It's likely that the song's message was of little concern to the Beatles, since pop music was seldom written to be poetic in 1963 (the Beatles would later help to change this, but that's for another post). Even today, it's not uncommon for pop standards to have their pronouns changed to suit the vocalist in question. What is uncommon, however, is for a vocalist to sing from the point of view of a member of the opposite sex. Nevertheless, this is exactly what Spanish jongleurs did in the 13th century when performing one of the most popular musical forms, the cantiga de amigo.

In short, a cantiga de amigo is a love song in the voice of a woman. Women seldom performed music in the 13th century, so it seems likely that it was the jongleurs themselves (all male) who performed these pieces. The recording in question features seven cantigas de amigo, all composed by Martim Codax, and in the manuscripts from which these pieces are drawn, they always appear in the same order. This suggests that it may have composed a coherent work of art or perhaps a performance set list. The songs have some of the most beautiful monophonic melodies that I've heard from medieval music, so I highly recommend them to the interested listener. Perhaps the Beatles should have taken a cue from these ancient minstrals -- there is no shame in voicing a woman.

Related Links: Book of translated cantigas de amigo lyrics

En Seumeillant: Recorder Heaven

2009-07-24T01:45:00.008-04:00

Album: En Seumeillant (French Ars Subtilior)
Track: "En Seumeillant" (Track #12)
Composer: Trebor
Instruments: 3 bass recorders
Musical Form: Ballade
Year: ~1380 - 1400

There is something very haunting about old songs. When a song becomes so old that the stylistic trends that gave birth to it are no longer familiar to its listeners, it becomes stripped down to its most naked form and the emotions it evokes spring only from those facets of ourselves that are universal to all human beings. In this way, we forge a connection to a long-dead society of people, but with the context lost, we never fully grasp the message of the song. The feelings are there, but cannot be understood or explained... they are ghosts trapped in sound.

Never did I feel this haunting quality so profoundly than when listening to "En Seumeillant", a ballade in the French ars subtilior style. The piece was composed by a medieval composer who, mysteriously, is known as Trebor (a backwards anagram of "Robert"). Very little is know about him -- he appears to have had several aliases -- but he was well regarded in his time and his pieces often make references to significant historical events. I don't know anything about the meaning of the lyrics, since I could find only one recorded version and it was performed entirely with bass recorders. However, unlike for many of the other ars subitlior pieces, I suspect the ambience of "En Seumeillant" is captured best by the recorders, rather than vocal performers. I recommend playing it in a very quiet place, with all of the lights out. If you listen carefully, you might hear the ghosts.

Related Links: Trebor

The Trecento Madrigal: Art by Improvisation

2009-07-20T02:23:00.014-04:00

Album: Landini and His Time: 14th Century Italian Ars Nova
Track: "Vestisse la Cornachia" (Track #9)
Composer: Jacopo da Bologna
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 vielle
Musical Form: Madrigal
Year: ~1350
Composition for comparison: "Freddie Freeloader" by Miles Davis (1959)

For those of us who like to sing or hum along to our favorite songs, improvised music can present an unwelcome challenge. Unlike arranged music, it should not be approached with the intention of developing familiarity; just the opposite, the thrill of improvisation is in the unexpected. It's not completely random (like the more obscure "chance music") -- the musicians are still working within a prearranged structure -- but the driving melody is seldom predictable or repetitive. The notes that are played depend more upon the mood of the musician at the moment it was recorded than on any larger artistic purpose. The casual listener may allow the music to carry them astride, like an elaborate neural massage, while for the connoisseur the experience may be more like a voyage of discovery -- notes arise in new and unexpected patterns as the performers freely explore the vast musical spaces stored in their brains.

Truly improvisational music is, of course, a fleeting thing. There is no way for a modern performer to play ancient improvised music in the way it was intended to be played because our minds are polluted by exposure to the many centuries of subsequent musical development. Nevertheless, there do exist musical forms that are written in a pseudo-improvisational manner; that is, with a melody that is fairly free in form and not adhering to any larger-scale melodic structure. One such form is the madrigal, a development of the Italian Trecento in the mid-14th century.

A short but characteristic example of the madrigal is "Vestisse la Cornachia" by Jacopo da Bologna. The piece is composed for two voices, but in this particular arrangement, only the melody is carried by a vocalist. Note the relatively simple manner in which the two parts interact, with the accompanying vielle moving steadily in the background as the lead voice provides an elaborate melismatic foreground. There is a great deal of similarity between melodic motion heard here and that found in modern improvisation forms, such as jazz and blues. For comparison, listen to "Freddie Freeloader," a jam off of Miles Davis' groundbreaking album, Kind of Blue (1959). Listen to how the saxophones, piano, and trumpet exchange the lead melody, while the backing musicians provide a skeletal accompaniment.

The madrigal did not last much beyond the 14th century, although an unrelated form with the same name arose in 16th century Italy. It seems that the early madrigals of this type had very little popular appeal... if only Coltrane had been born six centuries earlier.

Related Links: Improvisation in Madrigals

Minnesang: A Troubadour Alternative

2009-07-18T05:06:00.018-04:00

Album: Wanderers' Voices - Medieval Cantigas & Minnesang
Track: "Owê dirre nôt!" (Track #4)
Composer: Nedhart von Reuental
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 vielle
Musical Form: Minnesang
Year: ~1210 - 1240

Every now and then, I may feel the need to turn back the clock on my Hopeless Journey and revisit an earlier time period. My reasons will vary; sometimes I'll have simply overlooked something, while other times I may be backtracking to provide context for a future entry. Whatever my reasons, these posts will be framed in green to distinguish them from main flow of the Journey.

In A Final Note on Troubadours, I opined that troubadour music (and its close relatives) had little to offer the modern listener, primarily because we have lost much of the lyrical context and the music itself is fairly repetitive and simplistic. By and large, I will stand by that claim, but I thought it worthwhile to step back and review the Minnesingers, who are essentially the German equivalent of troubadours. Up to now, Germany has not been represented in my posts and I want to make sure I take a relatively even sampling of music from the European continent, at least to the extent that it's availbable to musical historians.

One thing I immediately notice when I listen to the Minnesingers is the way in which the differences in language affect the sound of the music. Unlike in French or Occitan, German words are pronounced with a great deal of inflection. When used in lyrics, this inflection creates a pronounced sense of rhythm a sense of rhythm that is very much independent of the musical structure. Some of the Minnesinger lyrics may sound a bit goofy at first, but this cultural bias passes quickly. Overall, I think the exaggerated rhythm of the poetry adds to the music.

The song structure of the Minnesinger compositions is very similar to that of the troubadours, though they have a distinct melodic feel. In "Owê dirre nôt!" one gets a very wistful feeling from the piece, no doubt reinforced by the final cadence, which ends on the mediant (the third in the scale, "mi" in "do-re-mi") rather than the tonic. If you enjoy troubadour music and are looking for a simple variation on that familiar theme, then Minnesang might be worth a look.

Related Links: YouTube, Minnesang

Belle, Bonne, Sage: Music in the Shape of a Heart

2009-07-17T03:57:00.013-04:00

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux)
Track: "Belle, Bonne, Sage" (Track #7)
Composer: Baude Cordier
Instruments: 2 voices, vielle, clavicythérium
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: ~1380 - 1400

I can't think of any song better suited to provide an introduction to one of the most popular musical forms of the 14th and 15th centuries than "Belle, Bonne, Sage." This piece is not only a good listen, but as with most ars subtilior compositions, is also rhythmically complex and experimental. It's certainly one of the most recorded compositions from its time period, though every performance seems to carry a unique style and feel. The piece was originally written as sheet music that was wrapped into the shape of a heart, where red notes are meant to indicate a slight alteration of the note values. These stylistic tendencies have sometimes been associated with mannerism (a Renaissance art movement), but there doesn't seem to be any direct link to that later cultural phenomenon.

"Belle, Bonne, Sage" is a rondeau. As I mentioned previously, medieval secular music generally used one of three formes fixes: the ballade, the virelai, and the rondeau. Rondeaux generally follow ABaAabAB, where A (or a) is a verse-like section and B (or b) is a refrain/chorus-like section. Here, capital letters indicate one set of lyrics and lowercase letters indicate another -- the reasoning behind this structure is a mystery to me. It nearly follows an alternating verse-chorus structure, but there's an additional verse in the middle of the song; perhaps it was used to provide buildup and lyrical context for the finishing phrases. Whatever the reason, this form was widely used by composers throughout the 14th and 15th centuries.

As ars subtilior pieces go, this is one of the easier ones to listen to, so it's a good place to start if you're interested in developing a taste for the music. I would also recommend it to a listener interested in listening to only one piece from the movement. If you're looking to follow the rondeau structure, the first verse ends at 0:30 and first refrain ends at 1:06.

Related Links: "Belle, Bonne, Sage" lyrics and translation , The poetic rondeau form

The Harmonia Mundi Century Series: A Parallel History

2009-07-16T02:25:00.007-04:00

I recently discovered a collection of recordings that attempts to provide a representative sample of the entire history of Western music, much as my blog is attempting to do. Unfortunately, the recordings I found, The Harmonia Mundi Century Series, are difficult to come by. A subset of them can be purchased here:

Presto Classical

I was pleased to see that my journey was covering most of the music included in these collections, although they put considerably more emphasis on chant and other early monophonic music (including music from Ancient Greece, see catalog listing below). As my journey progresses, I expect that my blog will cover the musical landscape more densely than this collection does, but for the era I'm currently covering (late 14th century), their selected recordings correspond very closely to my blog.

Related Links: Catalog listing

The Landini Cadence: A Pseudo-Suitable Ending

2009-07-14T02:12:00.014-04:00

Album: The Second Circle: Love Songs of Francesco Landini
Track: "Nella partita pianson" (Track #4)
Composer: Francesco Landini
Instruments: 2 voices
Musical Form: Ballata
Year: ~1350-1370

I tried very hard to care about this, I really did. The way a composer chooses to end a composition (or a section of a composition) seems like it would be really important; after all, human aesthetic judgement is highly prejudiced towards endings. Nevertheless, I have yet to see a correlation between how much I like a composition and how it chooses its cadences.

A cadence is a pattern of notes that establishes some kind of ending or transition within a piece. In medieval music, virtually all candences end on the tonic, with voices either singing in unison or an octave apart (sometimes including the fifth). For those of you who didn't take music theory, the tonic is simply the "root" note of a scale (the "do" in "do-re-mi"). If you don't end a song on this "root" note, it has a tendency to sound like it's not finished yet. In medieval music, the cadence is the sequence of notes that leads up to and includes this "root" note. A standard two-voice cadence in the ars nova period involved a transition from the leading tone (the note a half step down from the tonic, "ti" in the "do-re-mi" sequence) up to the tonic. Just as the tonic has a feeling of finality, the leading tone, true to its name, gives a feeling of leading to an ending; the next-to-last step, if you will.

What Francesco Landini did that was supposedly so important was that, in his "Landini cadence" (also called the "under-third" cadence), he stuck a note in between the leading tone and the tonic. Specifically, he moved down a step from the leading tone before coming back up to the tonic, "ti-la-do". This note did not give the listener the feeling that the composition was moving anywhere different than it would with the standard cadence, it simply "dressed up" the ending to his pieces. If you listen to enough of his compositions (such as "Nella partita pianson," referenced above), you'll begin to recognize it, but personally, I don't think it adds much to the music. Perhaps it's important for historical reasons, but I don't think it would be of much interest to the casual listener.

Related Links: Advanced discussion of Landini cadence; Youtube; Wikipedia; Intervals

Ars Subtilior: Subtle Art

2009-07-11T01:47:00.010-04:00

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux)
Year: ~1350 - 1400

This music really floored me. My reaction upon first listening to pieces from the ars subtilior was akin to a dog's ears perking up at the arrival of its master. Music like this was the reason I originally set out on my Hopeless Journey -- I craved something that was new... and yet also very old. I wanted to hear something that stimulated the ears of many great musicians but also something that was virtually unknown in the 21st century. I wanted to be challenged by something more than a placebo effect.

And so I was. These are not songs you can hum along to after one listen... or perhaps even ten listenings. They explore the musical space in a way that's both exciting and new. At first, they may sound as if the composers randomly chose notes to splotch together, like a child fingerpainting for an exhibit of abstract art. Eventually, however, the tunes will come together, and begin to sound energizing, somber, or perhaps even catchy.

The origins of this music are in the French ars nova movement, which was the first to challenge established polyphonic traditions in Western Europe. The music of the ars nova was still generally accessible to the casual listener; it was different, but not too different. Ars subtilior, however, took things to the next level -- it was music written for the musician or connoisseur, it was experimental, and it was challenging. Not until the 20th century would experimental music again attain such a prominent position in the musical world.

For the modern listener, this music is a special treat because it explores realms of musical space that are sparsely sampled by most composers, even in the six centuries that followed. It doesn't always contain the same tired cadences and chord structures that litter medieval music and which led to the standard musical practices that are so familiar today. It's true that some of the experiments carried out in this movement were influential on later composers, but the majority of what you hear will be fresh for most any listener. My first exposure to ars subtilior was in En seumeillant, in which the pieces are performed with recorders (simple wind instruments with that create very pure tones). This may have been a good jumping-off point because every note came through very clearly, but ultimately the pieces sound best performed vocally. Such recordings hard to come by, as ars subtilior pieces are notoriously difficult to perform. The collection linked above, Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux), is the only pure ars subtilior vocal recording that I have been able to find. I strongly recommend it.

Related Links: Ars Subtilior

En Amer a Douce Vie: A Medieval Traveling Song

2009-07-08T02:28:00.009-04:00

Album: Machaut: Chansons
Track: "En Amer a Douce Vie" (Track #10)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Ballade
Year: ~1350

One of the difficulties with listening to new genres of music is that we need to get our bearings; that is, our minds aren't accustomed to the structure and style of the compositions we're listening to. As such, the music often sounds like a garble of phrases, perhaps with some familiar note patterns, but lacking any coherent flow. I found that I had these same difficulties with medieval music, despite the fact that the composition structure is generally simpler than that found in modern music and the sections of the composition are usually very clearly delimited. When I made an effort to look for this structure, however, the music began to feel more comfortable and listenable.

In medieval music, one of the forms with the simplest song structure is the ballade (distinct from a "ballad"). Essentially, a ballade is two verses followed by a refrain, repeated some number of times (usually three, in my experience). The length of the sections can vary from one piece to the next, but it's usually clear when they're ending because medieval composers have a tendency to establish their cadences very clearly -- the voices all sound at once and hold a sustained note. I think these rigid section endings detract from the flow of the piece, but it may be that the medieval ear would have gotten lost without them. I'm sure our music would sound like a garbled mess to them.

Anyway, one of the best ballades that I've heard is "En Amer a Douce Vie" by Guillaume de Machaut. It has a distinct rhythm that I tend to associate with some steady motion, perhaps walking or some other kind of traveling. For those trying to get their bearings, the first verse ends at 0:27 and the first refrain ends at 1:57. The verse 1-verse 2-refrain sequence appears three times in the piece. The refrain is unusually long in this ballade and I especially like how the bass line (established by the tenors) moves toward the end of that section.

La Messe de Nostre Dame: The Advent of the Cyclic Mass

2009-07-05T00:07:00.020-04:00

Album: De Machaut: La Messe de Nostre Dame -- Le Voir Dit
Track: "Kyrie" (Track #1)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Cyclic mass
Year: ~1365

The development of music as an art form was not something that happened overnight, nor was it something that happened entirely within one musical period. In 14th century France, the freedom and sophistication of musical composition was increasing rapidly, but the musical community was still learning how to express itself. The ars nova revolution was bringing about great changes in the form and style of both sacred and secular music, while the Italian Trecento was integrating the expression of love into polyphonic composition. Nevertheless, music was still written in the form of independent motets or chansons lasting ~5 - 10 minutes, not long enough to express a broad or complex artistic message.

This first began to change in the sacred realm with the advent of the mass. In a previous entry, I commented on musical settings to individual portions of the Catholic mass, some of which date back to the early 14th century. It wasn't until ~1350, however, that the first cyclic mass (that we know of) was written. By cyclic mass, I mean a coherent work of art written by the same composer and with parts intended to be performed in a particular order. It should come as no surprise that the composer in question was Guillaume de Machaut, arguably the most important musician of the medieval period. His mass was titled, Messe de Nostre Dame (Mass of Our Lady).

Messe de Nostre Dame has six parts in total, the most interesting and impressive of which is the opening number, the Kyrie. The entire text to the Kyrie consists of a pair of two-word phrases repeated over and over again,

Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison,

which literally mean "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy." Despite the simplicity of the text, the musical setting is extremely complex, including four voices and an isorhythmic structure. I consider this portion of the mass a must-hear for interested readers -- the voices undulate like a wave in motion, creating an effect that is both beautiful and characteristically medieval in style. The remainder of the mass is pleasant as well, though it resorts to simple parallel vocal motion to recite the more wordy texts of, for example, the Gloria and the Credo.

Whether or not Renaissance composers were even aware of this mass is unclear, but the idea of creating complete musical settings to the Ordinary of the Mass caught on fairly quickly. By the 15th century, any composer of sacred music worth his salt had composed at least one mass. The mass offers a unique opportunity to make a direct comparison between the compositional styles of different composers in different eras and I'll no doubt be returning to it many times in future blog entries.

External Links: YouTube

Geisslerleider: Blogging of Sloggin, Singing, and Flogging

2009-07-04T01:05:00.008-04:00

So far I've been impressed with how much music I have been able to find on iTunes and amazon.com, but with this juicy morsel, I finally hit a roadblock: Geisslerleider. No, I didn't sneeze, I'm referring to a musical movement of the 13th and 14th centuries, the most famous examples of which date to the time of the Black Plague. In this wacky tradition, a procession of devout monks slog through the streets, flogging themselves and chanting inane proto-folk tunes as a vivid demonstration of their faith. I can think of few things that I'd rather listen to from the middle ages, but sadly, I haven't been able to locate any recordings.

I know that some of the songs have survived, as a resourceful monk by the name of Hugo Spechtshart transcribed note-for-note what he witnessed of these rituals and published it in 1349. The music is monophonic and is performed in a call-and-response format; that is, with one flagellant chanting the verse and his posse responding in unison with the refrain. Although it's hard to imagine any modern artist successfully capturing the sheer agony and desperation of the Geisslerleider, I would love to hear them try. If anybody stumbles on recordings of this music, please let me know.

Medieval Instrumentation: Without a Voice

2009-07-04T00:16:00.008-04:00

I've always considered myself a musician, but the instruments I use (guitar and piano) are largely a mystery to me. I know some basics about how they work and how to maintain and care for them, but don't even think of asking me about the differences between individual designs or models. For me, the most interesting part of music has always been its composition and, as such, most of my musical experiments have been devoted to songwriting. Some of this prejudice may have crept into my blog entries as well since, to date, I haven't written any blog entries that discuss medieval instrumentation or instrumental notation. However, this is in large part due to the fact that there is very little evidence of how instruments were used in that era, with instrumental notation only being invented at the end of the period. We do know that instrumental accompaniment to vocal pieces was commonplace, particularly in secular music, but it was believed to be largely improvisational in nature.

Many of the basic types of instruments were already in use in the middle ages, including plucked (lute, harp, mandora, gittern, psaltery), bowed (fiddle, rebec, lyra), wind (shawm, cornett, recorder, pan flute), and percussion (tabor). Furthermore, organs were in extensive use in churches and were often extremely complex in design. Despite this panoply of available instrumentation, the lack of instrumental notation or a description of their use in performances leaves much to guesswork when reproducing medieval music. Many of the recordings I've reviewed have included instrumental accompaniment, but because we don't really know how these instruments were used, I've focused on the structure and feel of the vocal parts.

I'll continue in this vein in the short term -- devoted instrumental compositions don't appear until the middle of the Renaissance period. As a compromise, however, I've included the instrumentation in the headers of my past blog posts (at least, in those referring to specific recordings). If nothing else, it's worth revisiting these recordings to hear what the individual instruments sounded like and what means of expression were available to medieval composers. My prejudice need not be yours.

Journey Highlights: June 2009

2009-07-01T16:40:00.009-04:00

Composer of the Month: Philippe de Vitry

I compared him to both the Beatles and Lou Reed, acknowledging his ability to appeal to larger audiences and his penchant for experimentation. Although none of the individual pieces jumped out at me, his contributions to the development of musical notation, as well as the ars nova and Roman de Fauvel, have led me to select him as the composer of the month. The revolution he started in the early 14th century has been compared by some to the introduction of perspective into painting -- its importance for the later development of music cannot be understated. To really get a feel for the ars nova movement, I suggest listening to the Roman de Fauvel. His other work, although interesting, fails to capture the spirit of the changes that were occurring during that time period.

Composition of the Month: "Clap, clap, par un matin" (Anonymous)

Although more of a novelty piece than anything else, "Clap, clap, par un matin" was my favorite of the month, holding up quite well to repeat listenings. The early ars nova pieces were fairly erratic and experimental -- it was clear that they were not yet making the best use of their newfound musical freedom. "Clap, clap, par un matin" was not as complex or experimental as many of the de Vitry pieces, but it created an ambience that was both energetic and unique. A close runner-up was a motet called, "Lasse! comment oublieray" by Guillaume de Machaut. It certainly demonstrates more sophistication than "Clap, clap, par un matin", but is more representative of the latter half of the 14th century, which will be the focus of the coming month.

Douce Dame Jolie: Verse, Chorus, Virelai

2009-06-28T23:51:00.023-04:00

Album: Machaut: Mirror of Narcissus
Track: "Douce Dame Jolie" (Track #12)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 1 voice
Musical Form: Virelai
Year: ~1330-1350

Seldom do we hear a song from the middle ages in our everyday lives... even of the musicians I've spoken to, few listen to medieval music. Our rationale for this may vary -- some will say that early music was primitive and therefore couldn't possibly be as "good" (or perhaps "complex") as the modern counterparts. Others will say that they simply cannot relate to the sentiments of the ancients; perhaps the music was too often religious or gentle for the modern ear. Quite frankly, I don't buy either explanation. Even in modern music, a gifted musician can make a great song in the simplest of forms (for example, punk or folk music). Furthermore, the basic human emotions and drives have changed little over the course of a millenium. We still feel the same love, loss, gratitude, and wonder that medieval composers express in their compositions. No, we haven't changed much, it's primarily our perception of ourselves that has changed. Perhaps it's this very perception that causes us to distance ourselves from our musical past.

Whatever the reason, it's worth examining the similarities between music composed in the medieval and modern eras. Perhaps the most striking similarities can be found in early secular music, where the poetic and musical forms bear a strong resemblance to modern pop music. To illustrate this point, let's compare two compositions: "Douce Dame Jolie" by Guillaume de Machaut and "Beat It" by Michael Jackson (may he RIP). The former is a virelai, a type of monophonic secular composition that was developed in the medieval period. The latter, of course, is a pop/rock song released in 1983.

First, let's consider the more familiar of the two songs. The first verse and chorus of "Beat It" are as follows:

They told him don't you ever come around here

Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear

The fire's in their eyes and their words are really clear

So beat it, just beat it

Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it

No one wants to be defeated

Showin' how funky and strong is your fight

It doesn't matter who's wrong or right

Just beat it, beat it

In the verse we see a poetic structure of aaab, meaning that the first three lines rhyme with one another and the final line ends in a different sound. The chorus, by contrast, has the form aabba. The differences in the two sections are reflected in the musical structure, where the chorus uses a completely different melody and rhythm. These poetic and musical properties are typical of modern pop music -- indeed, of many genres of modern music.

Virelais, on the other hand, were chansons, French lyric-driven songs that dominated secular music in the 14th and 15th centuries. These early songs were essentially poems with a melody, where changes in the melodic structure would often mimic changes in the poetic form, just as they did in "Beat It". Consider the first two stanzas of "Douce Dame Jolie":

Douce dame jolie,

Pour dieu ne pensés mie

Que nulle ait signorie

Seur moy fors vous seulement.

Qu'adès sans tricherie

Chierie

Vous ay et humblement

Tous les jours de ma vie

Servie

Sans villain pensement.

In the first stanza we see a poetic structure of aaab, just as in "Beat It," while in the second stanza the structure is aabaab. The poem takes on a different rhythm in the second stanza, so it also carries a different melody and feel. The remainder of the virelai alternates between these two poetic/musical forms, creating a melodic structure that is very similar to the verse--chorus--verse structure of modern music.

It would not be fair to say that all secular music of the middle ages was so similar to our familiar radio tunes. "Douce Dame Jolie" is arguably the most enduring song of the medieval period, a fact that is due in part to its familiar structure, so it does not represent an unbiased sampling of the period. Nevertheless, I believe we are closer to our musical ancestors than is often appreciated. Give it a chance, you might be surprised.

External Links: YouTube

Mass Settings: Sitting Through Church

2009-06-27T00:56:00.017-04:00

Album: Guillaume de Machaut: Motets & Music from the Ivrea Codex
Track: "Gloria: Et verus homo" (Track #2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Mass movement
Year: ~1350-1370

I don't usually enjoy the music in church services. In my youth, I remember spending many Sunday mornings squirming in the pews as the church organ bleated out some droning melody that did more to test my faith than reinforce it. The simplistic and monotonous arrangements seemed little meant for human ears, although the pews were sufficiently moved that they would rattle and creak at the rise of each note. At the outset of my Hopeless Journey, I had hoped that the great composers of medieval polyphony would help to elucidate the original beauty and appeal of sacred music. Sadly, with the possible exception of Pérotin, these composers have, despite fairly complex arrangements, succeeded at capturing the monotony of my early childhood church experiences. The most tedious of all are the mass movements, like "Gloria: Et Versus Homo," referenced above. These polyphonic compositions are written to accompany individual sections of the Catholic Mass and necessarily incorporate a standard religious text as lyrics.

Up to this point, I have primarily discussed motets, which incorporate a traditional gregorian chant but are generally played as an addendum to the standard mass rituals. Individual mass movements did not begin to appear until the middle of the 14th century and some of the earliest are found in the Ivrea Codex. In that manuscript, the mass movements -- Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei -- are written separately and by different composers, but they could have been used to accompany an entire mass. The Gloria referenced above is a typical example of how polyphony was used to express standard religious texts. Unlike motets and secular compositions, these mass movements emphasize the words over the music; the vocal parts move primarily in parallel motion to ensure that the text comes through clearly. This effect is most pronounced in Gloria and Credo mass movements, in which significant portions of text must be recited.

Although it helps a little to see a translation of the texts in these movements (it can be found on wikipedia), I wouldn't recommend spending a lot of time on individual medieval mass movements. However, as the medieval period progressed, the mass evolved and composers began constructing entire masses as individual works of art. Stay tuned for this, the mass will soon become more interesting.

Mining the Ivrea Codex: Clap 'Em Like You Just Don't Care... Par Un Matin

2009-06-26T01:37:00.014-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" (Track #12, disk 2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 voices, 1 harp, 1 fiddle, 1 psaltery, 1 mandora
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1350-1370

Beginning a long tradition of unsolicited choreographic suggestions by overzealous musicians, "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" presents a clever use of the rare second rhythmic mode to create a sound that is both peppy and bizarre. I can almost imagine hordes of medieval peasants clapping their hands and dancing to this peculiar number, though I doubt that their modern-day counterparts could find the beat. Personally, I find it intriguing and I suspect that other musicians agree with me; I stumbled upon at least two other recordings of it on my journey.

The piece is unique, even within the Ivrea Codex. The Ivrea Codex is a collection of medieval polyphony from the middle 14th century France and, although no composers are given credit within, stylistic analysis of elements in individual pieces suggests that it contains works by famous composers, like Philippe de Vitry and Guillaume de Machaut. "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" could not be attributed to any particular composer and so remains something of an enigma -- to me, anyway. The style is likely to have originated in secular music and it may be that a great many secular pieces of this kind were composed but not transcribed for posterity. Our knowledge of music of that era was biased toward sacred music, as the church was one of the few entities with the means and motivation to distribute large volumes of transcribed music. However, one of the defining features of the ars nova movement was the increasing use of secular styles and techniques in sacred music, so perhaps these gaps will slowly be filled in later periods.

The Italian Trecento: Finding Other Ways to Occupy Blind Men

2009-06-20T00:12:00.013-04:00

Album: The Second Circle: Love Songs of Francesco Landini
Track: "Che chos'è quest'amor" (Track #3)
Composer: Francesco Landini
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Ballata
Year: ~1350-1370

The late medieval period is most often represented by the French ars nova, but a parallel musical movement was occurring in Italy in the 14th century. Known as the "Trecento," this period in Italian music is characterized by its "love songs," sweet but simple polyphonic compositions with fixed poetic forms. Although there is a certain grace associated with its expression, Trecento love has little to offer the modern ear and its quaint charm quickly becomes tiresome on repeated exposure.

The most popular composer of the Trecento was Francesco Landini, a blind organist from Florence with a penchant for ballate and cadential escape tones (more on both subjects later). Many of his compositions utilize only two voices and venture little from the simple parallel motion that was so abundant in early polyphony. His three-voice ballate, such as "Che chos'è quest'amor" are marginally more titillating, but still fall short of the poetry and sophistication of their French counterparts. I can imagine the subtlety and grace of Trecento music might appeal to a dancer, but whether these works are themselves dancable I could not say.

Admittedly, my prejudice against this music may be more due to personal taste than any failing of the composer. Whether it be in minimalist music or folk rock, I am often happy to indulge in stripped-down arrangements of well-crafted music. However, these ballate feel oversimplified in more than just their arrangement -- their mood is almost stubborn in its optimism, as if fearful of expressing vulnerability. Indeed, this may have been a sign of the times, the Black Death having swept through Europe from 1348 to 1350. Perhaps people were themselves fearful of expressing vulnerability and sought escape in their music.

Isorhythm: The Hidden Patterns

2009-06-19T01:34:00.013-04:00

One of the defining characteristics of the late medieval period (and the ars nova, in particular) was the use of isorhythm. In short, isorhythm is the repetition of an arbitrary pattern of note durations in all or part of a musical composition. This repetition may occur in more than one voice, but each voice need not carry the same rhythm. In contrast to the rhythmic modes, isorhtyhm allows the vocal parts of a composition more freedom by, 1) allowing for a rhythm of arbitrary duration and structure and, 2) allowing for overlap between the rhythmic units of different voices. Isorhythm is essentially nonexistent in modern music, but it is instructive to consider a similar musical technique, the round.

Most of us are familiar with the campfire song, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," in which one person starts singing the melody and then, after one or more measures are complete, another person begins singing the same melody. After each singer completes main melody line, they return to the beginning and repeat. This song structure could be considered a special kind of isorhythm because each singer repeats a rhythmic structure (that of the melody line) and the rhythms overlap -- that is, the singers finish the melody at different times. In medieval motets, a similar technique was used, but each singer would be singing a different melody and using a different rhythm. To generalize the previous example, imagine instead that, after the first singer completes a measure of the song, another singer jumps in singing only, "Row, row, row." This second singer repeats these three words over and over again, using a different set of pitches each time but speaking the words at the same rate. This three-word sequence can serve as the basic unit of isorhythm and is perhaps a closer approximation to how medieval composers would craft the lower voices of a motet.

Despite this basic understanding of isorhythm, the technique has so far eluded me in the pieces I've listened to. Unlike "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," medieval motets are highly complex and isorhythm was generally only used in some of the voices and for only part of a piece. Two of the most prominent practitioners of isorhythm were Philippe de Vitry and Guillaume de Machaut, but their pieces were composed to blend into a graceful whole, hiding the underlying structure. It's likely that the "undulating" feeling I get from Machaut's compositions is in part due to his use of isorhythm, but seldom can I pinpoint its origin. For the casual listener, I would recommend against trying too hard to find it -- their motets are better experienced as a unified whole.

Guillaume de Machaut: A Man of Many Hats

2009-06-16T01:48:00.011-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Lasse! comment oublieray" (Track #18 on disk 2)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1330-1350

It is not uncommon for the great figures of a generation to excel in more than one area -- Leonardo da Vinci and Aristotle are two of the more dramatic examples -- but what I've read about Guillaume de Machaut is almost out of this world. It is unlikely that any future time period in my Journey will be so dominated by a single composer as the 14th century was by Machaut. His primary occupation was as a priest, but he is known today for his work as a poet and composer. His impact was immense in both areas; in the latter, he wrote some 150 pieces, including the first known cyclic mass. In addition, he was a trouvére (a Northern French equivalent of a troubadour) and an important figure in the development of secular musical formes, including the lai, the virelai, the ballade, and the rondeaux.

I will discuss all of the above contributions in more detail in later posts, but first listen to one of his motets, "Lasse! comment oublieray." When I was first immersing myself in the latter half of Music of the Gothic Era, this piece jumped out at me because of its contrapeuntal sophistication; that is, the contrary up-and-down interaction of the voices. The melody seems to undulate in a manner that you'll soon see to be characteristic of Machaut. I suggest listening to one of the anonymous motets of the early 14th century before experiencing Machaut because it really puts his work in context. There was simply no equal for the beauty and sophistication of Machaut's pieces and it's with good reason that he is the most revered composer of the middle ages.

External Links: YouTube

Le Roman de Fauvel: The Spirit of Rebellion

2009-06-14T01:41:00.017-04:00

Album: Le Roman de Fauvel: Clemencic Consort
Composer: Anonymous/Philippe de Vitry
Year: 1314

Challenging the listener is not as risky as it used to be. In fact, originality is greatly valued in our culture... and if that originality is rebellious in nature, all the better; after all, what better way to draw attention to your work than to have it mock established tradition? Not so in the middle ages, when the dissemination of music and art was difficult without the support of the establishment. It is therefore somewhat incredible that a work such as Le Roman de Fauvel would garner so much attention in the 14th century. Although the recording, Le Roman de Fauvel: Clemencic Consort, presents only one possible interpretation of the manuscript (they perform only fragments, the full collection contained ~3000 verses and 169 musical pieces), this music possesses a quality I had previously not heard in my Journey... edge.

Written by a French clerk named Gervais du Bus, with musical arrangements by composer Philippe de Vitry (along with a collection of anonymous composers), this cheeky manuscript mocks both church and state and makes no apologies for crudeness. The story surrounds the exploits of an upwardly mobile donkey, whose continuous dissatisfaction with the improvements in his life lead him quickly into the grips of the seven deadly sins. I don't understand a word of what is being said, but the biting nature of the verse and the unconventional musical compositions remind me at times more of punk music than medieval polyphony. In "Veritas arpie", bagpipes accompany a monophonic lament similar to something you might expect to be performed by a drunken sailor. "Ad solitum vomitum" resembles the musical accompaniment to a Late Night with Conan O'Brien sketch that was written by a drunken sailor. Finally, in "Charivari", we hear a hodgepodge of chanting, percussion, and sound effects that were almost certainly drawn from a Yoko Ono wet dream (perhaps about a drunken sailor).

Nevertheless, having immersed myself so completely in the (largely sacred) music of the early medieval period, I find this music to be a welcome change -- and perhaps for the same reasons medieval listeners did. It doesn't take a modern listener very long to get tired of the repetitive rhythmic structures used by early composers. It's true, music need not be "edgy" to do away with these structures -- the changes originated here would be carried over to sacred music and would eventually become integrated into the entirety of Western music. This gradual development of the "new art" would bring with it the pretensions I alluded to in my last post. Nevertheless, I believe it is in Le Roman de Fauvel that we hear the true spirit of the original ars nova transition; that is, cheeky, rebellious, and crude.

I'm left wondering... in the later years of the movement, did devotees to this "new art" complain in the same way as aging members of 20th century countercultural movements? Perhaps they felt that the later ars nova composers "sold out" or lost the spirit of the movement... perhaps so, but there are always a few whiners.

It was 687 years ago today...

2009-06-04T01:57:00.014-04:00

...Philipe de Vitry taught the French to play... without rhythmic modes. The point here, which should have escaped all but the most dim-witted readers (no, I didn't get that wrong), is that Philipe de Vitry is like the Beatles. How, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you. Up until the early 14th century, French musicians had been restricting themselves half-heartedly to a set of rhythmic modes (yes, I know you're tired of hearing about rhythmic modes), in part because they had become embedded in the musical notation. In 1322, de Vitry may have changed all that with a collection of "avant garde" music in which he broke all the rules (you might say he left nothing sacred, LOL).

I say he may have changed things because historians still aren't sure that he was the author, but let's say for the sake of pseudo-simplicity that he was. This "new" art music turned more than a few heads, and so was dubbed ars nova (that is, "new art"). It wasn't very good at first -- composers mainly liked it because it was different and gave them more rhythmic space in which to be unpleasant to listen to. I'll admit that de Vitry had a few good pieces, but for the most part he was just feeding the community's hunger for something new... like a medieval Lou Reed. I started out saying that he was like the Beatles, however, so I'll try to make that (seemingly contradictory) case as well.

You see, until the 14th century, music wasn't much of an art form. Nobles used it to dress up their courts and churches used it to augment their drone-happy services, but it wasn't generally viewed as an intellectual pursuit. That began to change with the ars nova, however, as musicians stopped being decorative and became something much more annoying -- they became artists. Just as Sgt. Pepper ushered in an era in which rock musicians could begin to snub their noses at one another, ars nova blanketed the music world in an air of pretension that it would never really escape from.

Many believe the true beginnings of ars nova can be traced back to the Roman de Fauvel, an allegorical play about a self-important equine antichrist. Philippe de Vitry composed most of the score, but I haven't gotten around to listening to it just yet. Its "rebellious" political satire could be compared to the drug-induced, postmodern fumblings of the late 1960's... or perhaps to some elaborate Orwellian version of an Aesop's fable. Either way, I'm happy to see musicians getting more pretentious, because it makes my journey a lot more interesting.

Journey Highlights: April and May 2009

2009-05-31T13:14:00.006-04:00

For all you lazy brutes out there who don't want to follow my regular blog entries, I present my journey highlights. In these posts (framed in red), I pick my favorite composers and tracks from the last month of the Journey, along with an explanation for why their awesomeness wowed my senses. Since I have two months of posts already, I will pick two from each category. First, my composers of the month:

April: Pérotin
May: Anonymous

The Notre Dame School of Polyphony pretty much got things started for music worth listening to on the European continent. Without a doubt, the best of the Notre Dame composers was Pérotin, who flourished around 1200. I reviewed two of his songs (Beata Viscera and Sederunt Principes) and read much about his influence on later composers. His simple approach to composition remains accessible to this day and was a major influence on the modern minimalist movement.

The fallout from the musical blast that was the Notre Dame School spread throughout Europe. Many of the techniques pioneered by this school (most notably the rhythmic modes) were used by composers of both sacred and secular music. Unfortunately, the vast majority of compositions from this period were written anonymously and may have been copied many times before finally appearing in collections like the Montpelier Codex. The identities of these lost masters may have been erased from historical records, but they will live on through their music.

The compositions of the month are:

April: Sederunt Principes (Pérotin)
May: Hoquetus I - II (Anonymous)

My favorite of Pérotin's compositions, Sederunt Principes impresses me more each time I listen to it. This four-voice motet demonstrates all of the major musical advances of the early medieval period, including the rhythmic modes and parallel and contrary vocal motion. Similarly, Hoquetus I - II is an excellent demonstration of early medieval techniques, including the hocket and the rare second rhythmic mode. This piece has garnered a lot of attention from the people I've spoken to about my journey, so I suggest giving it a listen.

Medieval Musical Modes: A Modal Frame of Mind

2009-05-31T02:30:00.014-04:00

Album: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
Track: "Scarborough Fair" (Track #1)
Composer: Simon & Garfunkel/Traditional
Instruments: 2 voices, 1 piano, 1 guitar
Year: 1966

Medieval music has a particular sound to it that for most of us is difficult to describe. We may be able to connect it to particular movies or plays (or perhaps the renaissance fair our friends with questionable taste dragged us to), but unless we happen to have a background in music theory, these will only be vague associations. Some of these associations may be due to the medieval composers' use of rhythmic modes (see Sederunt Principes and the Rhythmic Modes), but these were not in common use much beyond the 13th century. Most likely, the "medieval" sound is dominated by the use of musical modes, a set of intervals between notes that are used to compose a particular piece.

One example of a musical mode is the major scale -- if you've ever heard a singer do their "Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do" exercises, you've heard the major scale (listen). If you have a piano handy, this mode corresponds to the seven white keys starting with C. The vast majority of modern popular composers use this set of intervals (or those of a similar minor scale) to write their songs, but neither the major nor minor scales were recognzied as modes in medieval times and pieces were very rarely composed with them. One mode that was frequently used, however, was the Dorian mode. On a piano, this corresponds to the seven white keys starting with "D." The mode has something of a minor sound to it, but differs from the minor scale in its sixth note (the Dorian sixth is a half step higher, listen). To my ear, the Dorian mode has something of a "transcendental" feel to it and that may be why the church was so fond of using it.

Although many of the pieces I have reviewed use the Dorian mode, you would be hard-pressed to find it in modern music. A famous exception is "Scarborough Fair," a song released by Simon & Garfunkel in 1966. The song is actually a reworking of a traditional English ballad that dates back to the middle ages, so the use of Dorian mode is in retrospect not that surprising. Compare "Scarborough Fair" to Beata Viscera, also written in the Dorian mode -- see if they evoke similar images and associations.

External Links: YouTube

A Final Note on the Troubadours

2009-05-28T02:06:00.006-04:00

Album: Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs
Track: "Ples de tristor, marritz e doloiros" (Track #2)
Composer: Guiraut Riquier
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 viol
Musical Form: Troubadour song
Year: ~1200

Although much romanticized even in modern culture, I believe that the essence of troubadour music is much further from our grasp than we might think. Even if we disregard all of the uncertainties in its arrangement (discussed in detail in Troubadour Shmoubadour), those of us not fluent in Occitan, the language in which troubadour music was written, will still be deprived of the imagery that accompanies good lyric poetry. Fans of the 20th century troubadours, those of us with an appreciation of Bob Dylan and Niel Young, understand that the impact of good folk music is rooted in these images. Although we might have access to translations of 13th century troubadour lyrics, their words will never have the same impact on us that they had on their contemporaries. Even a crash course in Occitan would likely not be sufficient -- words mean much more than what they refer to and without proper context, their spirit is lost.

The track I refer to above shouldn't necessarily be listened to in full -- it's only meant to illustrate my point. At over 12 minutes in length, "Ples de tristor, marritz e doloiros" feels repetitive and drab after around the fifth stanza. The melody is sweet and gentle -- it certainly offers more to the casual listener than the Gregorian Chant -- but we are still left wondering how it might have sounded to a 13th century ear. The troubadours are an important stage in the development of medieval music, but I wouldn't recommend them to a modern listener searching for anything more than ambient music.

Zelus Familie: Perfect Simplicity

2009-05-28T00:57:00.009-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Zelus Familie" (Track #7 on disk 2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1300

The compositions of the ars antiqua period could only have been categorized as such in retrospect -- it is only in view of the musical advances of the following century that these pieces seem antiquated. In music, however, even the strictest and most simplistic rubric allows for beauty and we should not dismiss "primitive" work simply because of these limitations. In a modern context, perhaps punk music or blues are simplistic in comparison to progressive rock, but does that mean that they are inferior? Perhaps as music, but not as art.

It is with that mindset that I approach "Zelus Familie", an anonymously-composed motet from the early 14th century. Although technically classified as ars nova (more on this artistic movement soon), "Zelus Familie" has most of the elements of a 13th century composition. It keeps primarily within the third rhythmic mode and the voices remain tightly coupled throughout the piece. The only progressive element is its increased dynamic range, but I'm not sure if this was notated in the original manuscript or chosen by the performers. Either way, the results are beautiful in their simplicity -- a composition that might otherwise be hypnotic becomes emollient with the increased dynamic motion.

As far as medieval polyphony is concerned, the road gets rockier from here on. Although the most revered works from the medieval period were produced after 1300, the increased musical freedom that composers were allowed can be something of a burden to the untrained listener trying to cull the wheat from the chaff... bear with me, I'm sure there will be many gaps in my explorations.

The Petronian Motet: Baby Steps

2009-05-24T23:52:00.017-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Aucun ont trouvé" (Track #2 on disk 2)
Composer: Petrus de Cruce
Instruments: 2 voices, 1 fiddle
Musical form: Motet
Year: ~1290

Any politician will tell you that tradition can often be a sizable impediment to progress, even when progress is the universal goal. So it goes with music as well. Suppose you decided one day that you were going to write a song about... I don't know, your favorite piece of dishware. Any song you would sit down to write would likely be some combination of music you had already heard, even if that music had not itself been about dishware (most likely it wasn't). This applies equally in the 21st century as in the 13th century, but imagine further if all of the music you had heard previously had been performed (and likely written) within 100 miles of your house. Even further, imagine that when you want to write this music down (there are no recording devices onhand), you need to write within a preexisting rhythmic structure if anyone is going to be able to translate what you have written into a performance. In other words, you have two choices. You either write your song the traditional way or you invent your own notation for a new rhythmic structure, write a treatise explaining that notation, and then write a song within this new untested rhythmic structure.

Given these barriers, it should be no surprise that it took over a century to break from the traditions established by the Notre Dame School of Polyphony, particularly when the latter had exploited them so effectively. Nevertheless, two medieval composers, Petrus de Cruce and Philippe de Vitry, chose the more difficult of the two options described above. In this case, the tradition was the rhythmic modes, structures that had at that point become embedded in the musical notation. Phlippe de Vitry essentially started from scratch and I will discuss his work in a later entry. Petrus de Cruce did not eliminate the rhythmic modes, but in his treatise, Ars cantus mensurabilis, he invented a notation that allowed for an arbitrary number of rhythmic subdivisions within each mode repetition. For example, if I was writing within the first rhythmic mode, I could have the lower voice keep a "long - short" rhythm at an arbitrarily slow tempo while the highest voice filled the gaps with an elaborate melody many notes in length. Any motet that used this technique (and accompanying notation) was called a "Petronian motet," named after Petrus de Cruce himself.

The example given, "Aucun ont trouvé", has only two voices and works primarily within the first rhythmic mode. The Petronian technique certainly makes the piece sound more "free", but at the expense of substance. The upper voice sounds like it's performing a monologue, while the lower voice carries a rhythm, performed in a slow drawl, that often gets lost in the flowery melody. Although there is no doubt in my mind that the technique could be used effectively, this Petronian motet really does feel like a short-term fix to a long-term problem -- like treating hemorrhagic fever with band-aids. Well, it's not really anything like that, but bigger changes (and better similes) are to come. Stay tuned.

External Links: YouTube

O Mitissima: The Hypnotic Modes

2009-05-22T00:23:00.005-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "O mitissima" (Track #15 on disk 1)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 3 voices, 1 shawm, 1 tabor
Year: ~1200

One of the defining characteristics of the ars antiqua period was the strict adherence to the set of rhythmic modes laid out by the Notre Dame School of Polyphony (see Sederunt Principes and Rhythmic Modes for a full description). Since there were six modes -- only three of which were commonly used -- and the modes were only two or three strikes in length, these early pieces tended to be repetitive in nature, with fairly simple dynamics. Furthermore, the preponderance of octaves, fifths, and fourths in the harmonic structure (anything else was viewed as a dissonance) made ars antiqua compositions sound very rigid.

Although this rigidity was often a bad thing (see Honking Geese), a clever composer could use it to give their music a hypnotic feel. Nowhere is this more apparent than in "O mitissima", one of the many Gregorian chants converted to polyphony by an anonymous ars antiqua composer. Interestingly, the composer here chooses to overlay the stanzas from the original chant, giving one to each voice and making it seem as if the singers are all part of a larger, ongoing conversation with God. In the modern era, rhythmic repetition is often used in dance music to put the listeners (or dancers) into a trance-like state, perhaps not so unlike that of a devout monk praying to God.

Medieval Minimalism: Polyphony in the Shape of a Square

2009-05-20T23:56:00.005-04:00

Album: Music in the Shape of a Square
Track: "Piece in the Shape of a Square" (Track #3)
Composer: Philip Glass
Instruments: 2 flutes
Year: 1967

The purpose of my Hopeless Journey is not just to collect listenable tracks from ancient composers, but also to connect the music of days gone by with that of the present -- to help me better understand the music of my own time. Therefore, I will occasionally include blog entries on contemporary music (framed in blue, like this one), making explicit reference to the connections between these modern works and their humble predecessors.

In one of my first posts, Sederunt Principes and Rhythmic Modes, I mentioned how the repetitive structures in Pérotin's work had been an influence on modern minimalist composers. Philip Glass, perhaps the most famous minimalist composer of them all, takes a page from the works of the Notre Dame School of Polyphony with, "Piece in the Shape of a Square." Although not restricted to the simplistic rhythmic modes that dominated Pérotin's work, the slow and subtle shifts in Glass' repeated structures are reminiscent of the undulating patterns of "Sederunt Principes." Almost as striking is the harmonizing of the two flutes, which remain in unison or an octave apart for most of the piece, much like the early Notre Dame polyphony.

Reis Glorios: The Morning After, Courtly Love and the Walk of Shame

2009-05-20T01:16:00.007-04:00

Album: Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs
Track: "Reis Glorios" (Track #1)
Composer: Giraut de Bornelh
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 viol
Musical Form: Troubadour song
Year: ~1200

In Troubadour Shmoubadour, I explained my feelings about bastardized versions of medieval troubadour music and how they were ruining our culture... or something like that. In Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1, the performers duck my wrath with their stripped-down renditions of ancient chansons. In this volume, they truly capture the romantic aesthetic inherent in the music and poetry of troubadours, accompanying the vocalist with a single stringed instrument (a viol) that may or may not have resembled the instruments used by the troubadours of the time. Troubadour music is mostly about courtly love; that is, rich people comitting adultery. Despite the popular myth of the troubadour strapping an instrument to his back and traveling from town to town, troubadours were themselves mostly rich people, working in the courts of kings and lords. The myth is a more accurate description of the "jongleurs", who were essentially poor one-man cover bands and were often the subject of scorn and ridicule in troubadour poetry.

The author of "Reis Glorios", Giraut de Bornelh, actually began his life poor, but developed a reputation as the "Master of Troubadours" and was especially renowned for his ability to craft beautiful melodies to surround his poetry. Only four melodies survive, including that for "Reis Glorios." This song describes the coming of morning for a pair of adulterers who have just spent the night together. Presumably one or the other is preparing to take the walk of shame to their respective dwelling and isn't really looking forward to it. Although I can't really blame them, I'm glad that their infidelity was captured in song, as this really is a beautiful piece worthy of a listen. Troubadour music is all monophonic and tends to be very repetitive if you don't understand what they're singing about, but this one stands well on its own.

External Links: YouTube

Hoquetus I-II and Hoquetus David: Hocket Up

2009-05-17T00:23:00.007-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Hoquetus I-II" (first ~2 minutes of Track #1 on disk 2) and "Hoquetus David" (Track #20 on disk 2)
Composer: Anonymous and Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 2 cornetts, 1 shawm
Year: ~1300 - 1400

That's right, the hocket. Basically, a hocket is a piece where two voices alternate on notes of the melody, one resting while the other sounds. In modern music, you'll often hear a second voice harmonizing, backing the lead, or alternating on verses, but seldom will you hear two voices alternate on the melody multiple times in a measure. I was excited when I discovered this lost art, because it offers something that you'll never hear listening to the radio.

The hocket was actually pioneered by the Notre Dame School of Polyphony, but survived into the 14th century in secular music. I unknowingly encountered the hocket for the first time in "Amor Potest" (see Honking Geese), where its use was so simple-minded that I dismissed it almost immediately. In that piece, they alternated with uniform rhythm and minimal melodic complexity, but the two hockets listed above, "Hoquetus I-II" and "Hoquetus David", demonstrate a much more thorough mastery of the technique. Most notably, they offer rhythmic complexity ("Hoquetus David" is in 9/4 time) -- the way in which the voices pop in and out at irregular intervals, it feels as if they're surprising me even when I know exactly what's coming next.

External Links: YouTube

Music of the Troubadours: Troubadour Shmoubadour

2009-05-06T01:08:00.004-04:00

Album: Music of the Troubadours
Year: 1100 - 1350

There is an endless debate among musicians, music theorists, and music historians about the value of authenticity in performances of old music. Is it best to perform the music as the composer originally envisioned it or should one include modern elements that will make it more palatable to the audiences of our time? This question has featured prominently in my Hopeless Journey, as I'm often forced to choose between renditions of Medieval music, each of which puts its own spin on old formula. Most such recordings will restrict themselves to instruments that were available at the time the music was written, but the performance itself is often improvisational, as is the chosen combination of instruments. Such is the case with Music of the Troubadours, a collection of old troubadour songs performed with everything from bagpipes to reed-flutes. Now you don't have to be a music historian to figure out that these performances are lacking in authenticity, but the real question is, does that matter? Can't we just enjoy the music for what it is?

No, I can't, and I think it's easy to see why -- these songs were written the way they were because of the limitations in accompaniment. How can we be expected to enjoy the lament of troubadour who has lost his castle when his poem is being drowned out by the buzzing and jangling of a cadre of overzealous 20th century musicians? It's true that my stated goal of immersing myself in ancient music is not necessarily shared by the average listener, but these "creative" additions may as well have included a computer-generated disco beat for all the good it did for the music.

I'm still determined to explore the music of the troubadours, but after listening to this recording a few times I decided that I'll have to look elsewhere. I found a more promising recording in Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs and I'll post about it in the coming weeks.

S'on Me Regarde: Pop Sensibilities

2009-05-03T22:50:00.008-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "S'on me regarde" (Track #3)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 voices, fiddle, mandora, harp, psaltery
Year: ~1250

Another piece included in the Montpellier Codex, "S'on me regarde" is a French love song in motet form. Of what I've heard during my journey thus far, this song comes closest to what I think of as a "traditional" song; that is, the sort of thing I might have sung in summer camp or high school french class. The tune is catchy and, interestingly, either of the two vocal parts could be argued to carry the melody. One can imagine that the composers of this time would have had only the crudest notion of how to write effective accompaniment -- perhaps here they chose to simply write another melody line to accompany the first, we can only guess. Either way, the result is impressive and I'm not aware of any equivalent in modern music.

External Links: YouTube

Amor Potest: Honking Geese

2009-05-02T01:48:00.007-04:00

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Amor Potest" (Track #2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 voices, 1 shawm
Year: ~1250

Although I dug up many gems on my Hopeless Journey, "Amor Potest" was not one of them. Music of the Gothic Era is a diverse collection of motets spanning the medieval periods of ars antiqua (~1170 - 1310) and ars nova (1310 - 1375). This particular motet was included in the Montpellier Codex, a vast collection of French polyphony from the ars antiqua period that consisted of only anonymous works. Although it may have passed for creative composition in medieval times -- perhaps some ancient equivalent of "Love Shack" -- it sounds to me more like the triangulation honks of a gaggle of Canada geese migrating south for the winter. The techniques used, such as the staccato rhythmic interplay between voices, are fresh to my ears and if it weren't for their more effective use in later motets in this collection, I would be inclined to say that I hold an unfair prejudice against them. However, after many listens I still feel that the composition is overly simplistic and borderline annoying.

External Links: YouTube

The Rhythmic Modes and Sederunt Principes

2009-04-28T22:36:00.012-04:00

Album: Leonin & Perotin: Sacred Music from the Notre Dame Cathedral
Track: "Sederunt Principes" (Track #31)
Composer: Pérotin
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Conductus
Year: ~1200

The Notre Dame School was renowned not just for polyphony, but also for its use of rhythm, which came in the form of one of six rhythmic modes. These modes can be thought of as groupings of notes with the same relative durations. For example, the first mode is simply a long note followed by a short note. If you skip to 1:45 in "Sederunt Principes", the second-to-last piece on L&P, you can hear the first rhythmic mode clearly in multiple voices, being repeated over the steady drone of the lowest voice. The full set of modes are as follows:

1) long - short
2) short - long
3) long - short - medium
4) short - medium - long
5) long - long
6) short - short - short

Pérotin utilizes a variety of modes in Sederunt Principes, most frequently the first, third, and fifth modes. Listen to the whole piece and see if you can identify modes as they pop up in the different voices, keeping in mind that voices aren't always in the same mode at the same time.

The piece is also worth a listen in its own right. The way it slowly shifts in rhythm and pitch structure, I am reminded of modern minimalist composers such as Philip Glass and Steve Reich; in fact, the latter acknowledges drawing inspiration from Pérotin. This fact alone reassures me that I haven't wasted my time revisiting the music of the ancient world.

External Links: YouTube

Parallel, Oblique, and Contrary Motion

2009-04-19T23:13:00.009-04:00

Album: Leonin & Perotin: Sacred Music from the Notre Dame Cathedral
Track: "Viderunt Omnes" (Tracks #2 - 8)
Composer: Léonin
Instruments: 2 voices
Musical Form: Conductus
Year: ~1150

Following "Beata Viscera", the album Leonin & Perotin: Sacred Music from the Notre Dame Cathedral takes a purposeful step backwards and presents the first of five renditions of an ancient Christmas chant, Viderunt Omnes (meaning "all have seen"). Written by an unknown medieval composer, the first arrangement demonstrates polyphony in its simplest form. To begin the piece, we hear only a single voice performing a traditional Gregorian chant, a chant not unlike the ones reviewed in my second entry. After only a minute of this, however, we hear a another voice arise, moving in parallel motion above the first and adding texture that must have been thrilling to the medieval ear (listen to an example of parallel motion). Not impressed? Of course you're not, modern music is replete with harmonies much more complex than this one, but be patient.

Continuing to the next track, we hear the first contribution from Léonin and the beginning of the second rendition of Viderunt Omnes, this time split into five sections. Léonin preceded Pérotin by ~50 years and most of his compositions had only two voices, but his work helped lay the foundation for the more complex four-voice motets that would follow. In addition to experimenting with parallel, oblique, and contrary motion in the vocal parts, he also was among the first composers to use rhythmic modes, a set of very simple rhythms common to later medieval music. In this third track, he demonstrates a mastery of oblique motion; that is, the motion of one voice over the constant or slowly changing pitch of another (listen to an example).

Léonin works with a mix of parallel and oblique motion through the next few sections of the piece, until we reach "Dominus." Here, he begins to experiment with contrary motion in the voices, one moving up in pitch as the other moves down (listen to an example). This technique, which was developed by the Notre Dame School of Polyphony, would later be formalized into a system of "counterpoint" and would be mastered in the early 18th century by none other than Johann Sebastian Bach. At this point, however, we only hear a glimmer of the complexity exhibited in Bach's much later work. The lower voice in "Dominus" exhibits a slow, deliberate motion, while the upper voice moves with relative freedom through the musical space carved out by Léonin. The combined effect is worth more than the sum of its parts.

External Links: YouTube

Correction

2009-04-19T22:15:00.004-04:00

Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music From Notre Dame Cathedral can no longer be found on iTunes for some reason. You can get it from here:

http://www.amazon.com/Leonin-Perotin-Sacred-Notre-Dame-Cathedral/dp/B000QQOWUW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1240193799&sr=8-1

_

Beata Viscera

2009-04-17T15:05:00.006-04:00

Album: Leonin & Perotin: Sacred Music from the Notre Dame Cathedral
Track: "Beata Viscera" (Track #1)
Composer: Pérotin
Instruments: 1 voice
Year: ~1200

Although you can't yet tell from the number of blog entries written so far, I've actually traveled quite a distance in my Hopeless Journey. Of all the songs I've listened to, it may be that the most beautiful is "Beata Viscera", the first track on Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame. The title translates to "blessed is the womb" and the piece is composed as a tribute to the Virgin Mary. This rendition is appropriately performed with only one voice -- its haunting beauty would likely be spoiled by a more complex arrangement. Although the mood of the piece would be more appropriate near the end of L&P, it begins our experience on a high note, demonstrating that even primitive medieval monophony can be beautiful when crafted by the hand of a composer like Pérotin. Where the Gregorian chant is stubborn in its single-mindedness, Beata Viscera explores a much broader spiritual space and feels as if it is speaking to us from the heavens themselves.

If you have iTunes (or an equivalent), I urge you to download this track and listen to it. In many ways, the medieval musical mind was primitive -- unlike modern composers, they did not have a plethora of techniques developed from centuries of musical experimentation to use as a reference point. Nevertheless, their analytical and creative minds were no less capable and their aesthetic was no less relevant than ours. "Beata Viscera" is a demonstration of how we can learn from the masters of any age; one should never underestimate the power of simplicity in music.

External Links: YouTube

1160 - 1250: The Notre Dame School of Polyphony, Introduction

2009-04-17T14:06:00.006-04:00

Every once in a blue moon, an album comes along that completely changes your perspective on hackneyed opening sentences to music reviews. Performed by the vocal group, Tonus Peregrinus, Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame details the progression of polyphony in early medieval music, all the while offering something more than just a history lesson.

The collection features performances of pieces composed by Léonin and Pérotin, as well as by a number of anonymous (that is, unknown) composers, all products of the Notre Dame School of Music between the years 1160 and 1250. Named after the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, this collection of composers was renowned for its role in the development of early polyphony; that is, compositions using more than one independent voice. The pieces themselves were generally written around a traditional Gregorian Chant and would include variations in voicing, tempo, and rhythm. The most advanced compositions of the time, the motets, would include as many as four voices, often in contrary motion.

Since my experiences with this recording were both positive and educational, I will return to it in subsequent entries. If my blog encourages you to listen to anything, it should be this collection, not just because it is a pleasure to listen to, but also because it will enhance your appreciation of music in general.

~1000 A.D.: Gregorian Chant

2009-04-17T13:39:00.003-04:00

To begin my journey, I downloaded the album The Ecclesiastical Year in Gregorian Chant by the Schola Cantorum of Amsterdam Students & Wim Van Gerven. The artist performing the chant sounded sufficiently pretentious as to make it of likely high quality and the number of tracks (31) seemed large enough that I would get a good sampling of the music. As it turned out, however, 10 probably would have been enough, as I could have put it on a loop and not noticed that it was repeating for several days.

The music is a cappella, monophonic, arhythmic, and entirely sung in Latin. Since I don't speak Latin, the experience was one-dimensional, the only redeeming quality being its soothing nature. Of course, this music was never meant to be "listened to" in the sense that you would listen to a symphony or prog rock album. Rather, it was meant to "hypnotize" and elevate the listener to a different state of consciousness. Insomuch as boredom is a state of consciousness, it achieved this end, but I will admit that I sometimes play the chants as I'm going to sleep. Other possible uses include for meditation, ambient music for infants, and cool-down music for those with anger management issues.

The realm of "sacred" music, the foundation for which was the Gregorian chant, dominated Western art music in the late medieval period, so my developing a familiarity with these chants was not without purpose. Many later composers would use a traditional Gregorian chant as the driving force for their compositions, styling elaborate polyphonic motets about this "cantus firmus". In modern terms, it is akin to a hip hop artist sampling "Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay" to a chorus of scantily clad women moaning and feigning coitus. Ok, not exactly, but the principle is similar, as the composer is elaborating on a melody already familiar to the listener. I will attempt to continue developing this familiarity with the Gregorian Chant as I prepare for my review of Leonin & Perotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame. I promise the next review will be more positive... if before then I don't give up on my Hopeless Journey.

The Hopeless Journey: A Modern Music Lover's Journey Through the History of Western Music

2009-04-17T13:37:00.002-04:00

"I think I'm approaching a complete knowledge of music," said a certain friend of mine whose identity I will take to the grave. "Is that so, Tiberius," I said, "then what about the Beatles and Radiohead?" A look of disdain crossed his face as he carefully formulated his response. "Music that matters," he said.

Poor taste aside, this exchange got me thinking about the limitations of my own musical experience. What about those genres of music that I had completely written off? For that matter, what about the cultural and musical origins of my favorite artists? Surely they have something to offer me. As it turned out, my failure to grasp Tiberius' use of hyperbole as a rhetorical device had inadvertently led me down a path of destiny. No ordinary path of destiny, mind you, but one so absurd and tedious that its only likely claim to a destiny was one of abject failure. As such, I will call this, "The Hopeless Journey."

The Hopeless Journey is my attempt to explore the entire history of western music, or at least the important parts of it... that we know about... and that I can purchase on iTunes in some form. Although I'm sure to give up on this quest in the very near future, I will share with you here its beginnings. Clearly, it would make little sense to structure these "reviews" in the traditional sense, as I'm no more qualified to judge the quality of a medieval motet than I am qualified to compete in the 200m wheelchair dash at the Special Olympics. As such, rather than try to ask, "How good is this music?", I will try to answer the question, "What does this music have to offer me?" By "me", here, I of course mean "myself". Any resemblance the content of this blog has to the value the music might have to, say, "you", is purely coincidental.