It's Christmas, I'm on vacation, so here's a short post for you to enjoy.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
SATB
That stands for soprano, alto, tenor, bass. That's just a scoring for choral works common enough to get an abbreviation. You may have noticed if there are choirs in your church that there are the high and lowish female sections and highish and low male sections of the choir. SATB
Well, that's easy enough. But I also wondered, what's a baritone? Doesn't treble mean something? The three tenors don't sound that high. I never heard them singing falsetto. (That's the higher register of your voice associated with yodeling which, by the way, is really hard whether you enjoy it or not. Try it.) If you've wondered these things, too, then read on.
Well, that's easy enough. But I also wondered, what's a baritone? Doesn't treble mean something? The three tenors don't sound that high. I never heard them singing falsetto. (That's the higher register of your voice associated with yodeling which, by the way, is really hard whether you enjoy it or not. Try it.) If you've wondered these things, too, then read on.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Quicklink 1
Heard about this from NPR today: http://howtolistentomusic.tumblr.com/
Or for the YouTube channel directly: http://www.youtube.com/user/howtolistentomusic
This music critic goes through popular songs and rates each section (identified in the upper right) on the instrumental, lyrical, and vocal aspects with notes when appropriate. (It's a little awkward when he can't get permission to play the actual song...) It's rather subjective, of course. But it's still an interesting look at how one critic makes his judgments. What I found most useful is seeing the sections identified (i.e. the form of the piece). You may notice a frequent formula emerge from the more banal songwriters. Enjoy.
Or for the YouTube channel directly: http://www.youtube.com/user/howtolistentomusic
This music critic goes through popular songs and rates each section (identified in the upper right) on the instrumental, lyrical, and vocal aspects with notes when appropriate. (It's a little awkward when he can't get permission to play the actual song...) It's rather subjective, of course. But it's still an interesting look at how one critic makes his judgments. What I found most useful is seeing the sections identified (i.e. the form of the piece). You may notice a frequent formula emerge from the more banal songwriters. Enjoy.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Austin-auto
A kind friend forgave my ignorance of popular and indie music since I know a fair deal about classical music. This, she deemed, was an elevated sort of knowledge. The compliment was appreciated, but I can't logically justify it to myself. Knowledge of classical music is just as useless in everyday life as baseball stats or celebrity gossip. Perhaps more useless since people rarely ever know what I'm talking about. Also, I can't say that my focus is any more intense during a performance than a football fan's is during a game, though perhaps my memory is more actively engaged. I can't see how naming members of any of the world's orchestras (which I can't do) is any more valuable than naming players on sports teams. My performance abilities are no more keen for my interest than the Guitar Hero addict or the guy who plays pickup basketball on weekends. You're probably just as able to pick out a song appropriate to a mood or situation from popular music as I am from classical.
As another example, I complain that so many popular songs are little more than looped tracks with maybe some key changes and vocals on top. Well, guess what? That's existed in classical music for centuries. A phrase that's repeated over and over like that is called a ground bass or an ostinato. You know Pachelbel's canon, right? A lot of string players (pretend they) hate playing it because it's the same GD thing over and over again. Ravel's Bolero is another example that uses an ostinato which I won't link because I hate it that much. The use of ostinati went out of fashion for a century and a half but came back for different purposes. And while not technically an ostinato, listen to the different repeated figurations in the left hand of this Mozart sonata. (Who can name what the low-high-middle-high bass pattern that starts the piece is called?) Or in the right hand of this Beethoven sonata. So I can't say I'm above repetitive music either.
Granted, most of what gets played is not heavy on ostinati the way jazz or rap music is. But there are other sorts of repetition. A song in strophic form repeats a theme with each stanza. Fugues consist of several statements of a main subject sometimes with episodes between each statement. Rondo or ritornello form similarly repeats a statement of a main theme between other themes. Even the grand sonata-allegro form involves a total of three statements of the first, second, and closing themes along with any variations in the development and coda.
In some respects, repetition serves to lighten the burden on the composer to write new material. But it also offers a chance for brilliant development of ideas. For a very fundamental example, take Beethoven's Symphony no. 5 in C minor. (All four movements there for ya.) It opens with the most famous four notes in the world. And that simple rhythmic motive, short-short-short-long, is used in a thousand variations of mood, melodic contour, key, texture, and so on throughout the entirety of the work. Repetition that's not repetitive. Certainly there are artists today who accomplish this as well, but they tend not to be as popular. I have a theory about that, but that's another post.
So maybe that's one aspect to classical music that earns it the epithet of 'elevated'. Quite often, you have to really be paying attention to even notice when it's being repetitive. And isn't it a joy to be paying attention? You can walk past the Mona Lisa and think it's just a painting of an odd-looking woman. Or you can understand the history, details, and genius behind and in that masterpiece and feel honored for the experience.
As another example, I complain that so many popular songs are little more than looped tracks with maybe some key changes and vocals on top. Well, guess what? That's existed in classical music for centuries. A phrase that's repeated over and over like that is called a ground bass or an ostinato. You know Pachelbel's canon, right? A lot of string players (pretend they) hate playing it because it's the same GD thing over and over again. Ravel's Bolero is another example that uses an ostinato which I won't link because I hate it that much. The use of ostinati went out of fashion for a century and a half but came back for different purposes. And while not technically an ostinato, listen to the different repeated figurations in the left hand of this Mozart sonata. (Who can name what the low-high-middle-high bass pattern that starts the piece is called?) Or in the right hand of this Beethoven sonata. So I can't say I'm above repetitive music either.
Granted, most of what gets played is not heavy on ostinati the way jazz or rap music is. But there are other sorts of repetition. A song in strophic form repeats a theme with each stanza. Fugues consist of several statements of a main subject sometimes with episodes between each statement. Rondo or ritornello form similarly repeats a statement of a main theme between other themes. Even the grand sonata-allegro form involves a total of three statements of the first, second, and closing themes along with any variations in the development and coda.
In some respects, repetition serves to lighten the burden on the composer to write new material. But it also offers a chance for brilliant development of ideas. For a very fundamental example, take Beethoven's Symphony no. 5 in C minor. (All four movements there for ya.) It opens with the most famous four notes in the world. And that simple rhythmic motive, short-short-short-long, is used in a thousand variations of mood, melodic contour, key, texture, and so on throughout the entirety of the work. Repetition that's not repetitive. Certainly there are artists today who accomplish this as well, but they tend not to be as popular. I have a theory about that, but that's another post.
So maybe that's one aspect to classical music that earns it the epithet of 'elevated'. Quite often, you have to really be paying attention to even notice when it's being repetitive. And isn't it a joy to be paying attention? You can walk past the Mona Lisa and think it's just a painting of an odd-looking woman. Or you can understand the history, details, and genius behind and in that masterpiece and feel honored for the experience.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Form and Its Function
What's your favorite form for poetry? Haiku? Sonnet? I bet you like the limerick. If I told you I had a limerick to share, you would expect a five-line poem with an aabba rhyming scheme and probably a dirty subject. If you wanted to compose a love poem, the sonnet is an obvious choice. We tend to like poetry with a set meter and rhyming convention because then we know what to expect. It's useful for both poet and listener/reader.
The same applies to music. There are forms with fancy names like ritornello, sonata-allegro, or fugue. Even popular music tends to follow a form with verses, refrains, an outro and such. As with poetry, knowing the form of a piece you're listening to gives you an idea of what to expect and sometimes an indication of the tone. The third movement of symphony will tend to have a dance-like or playful quality, for example. I find form in music to be much harder to track, though. It often involves hearing a theme once at the beginning, and recognizing that theme when it recurs as a variation. When you've heard three other themes in between, well, that's a lot to hold in your head even without getting distracted by thoughts like, "wasn't I supposed to call someone?" or "oh yeah, this reminds of that one time on that orchestra trip when..." I think I'm learning some tricks, like paying attention to key changes, but any others would be appreciated.
As with poetic forms, composers have long pushed the boundaries of musical forms. Beethoven expanded just about every part of the symphony. Mendelssohn placed the cadenza of his violin concerto before the coda, rather than after. People like Schoenberg invented totally new forms. Compare a Mahler symphony to a Mozart one, and you'd scarcely recognize any similarities. That's how art advances. As long as there is some semblance of the original form, I think the function is still served. It's like writing a poem with an abab rhyming scheme for 20 lines, then throwing in a different couplet. It's not what you expect, so it gets your attention.
What doesn't work for me is when people claim an established form and do something completely different. Last night, I watched Stanislav Pronin perform Lera Auerbach's "Par.Ti.Ta". Now, a partita is traditionally a suite of dances performed on a solo instrument. The movements in this were titled Adagio, Moderato, Andantino Scherzando, and so on. These are tempi, not dances. And they were anything but dancelike. Pronin said he'd asked Auerbach why it was spelled the way it was. The response was, "First of all, it looks cool." Auerbach seems to have solid credentials and a long publication history, so maybe it's me missing something here. But if I sold you a Com.Bo.5 and you got a sandwich with nothing else, you'd be a bit miffed. It doesn't matter how good the sandwich is; your expectations were not met. Even if it was two sandwiches, it's not what you think of as a combo. You want some kind of side and a drink, right?
So there you have it. There is organization and tradition in the forms of western art music that takes time to learn, but provides a richer, more active listening experience. You can even try listening to the form of popular songs. See who has the creativity to break away from the simpler forms. It's fun, as long as your mind doesn't drift off to your shopping list, or whether you just missed your turn....
The same applies to music. There are forms with fancy names like ritornello, sonata-allegro, or fugue. Even popular music tends to follow a form with verses, refrains, an outro and such. As with poetry, knowing the form of a piece you're listening to gives you an idea of what to expect and sometimes an indication of the tone. The third movement of symphony will tend to have a dance-like or playful quality, for example. I find form in music to be much harder to track, though. It often involves hearing a theme once at the beginning, and recognizing that theme when it recurs as a variation. When you've heard three other themes in between, well, that's a lot to hold in your head even without getting distracted by thoughts like, "wasn't I supposed to call someone?" or "oh yeah, this reminds of that one time on that orchestra trip when..." I think I'm learning some tricks, like paying attention to key changes, but any others would be appreciated.
As with poetic forms, composers have long pushed the boundaries of musical forms. Beethoven expanded just about every part of the symphony. Mendelssohn placed the cadenza of his violin concerto before the coda, rather than after. People like Schoenberg invented totally new forms. Compare a Mahler symphony to a Mozart one, and you'd scarcely recognize any similarities. That's how art advances. As long as there is some semblance of the original form, I think the function is still served. It's like writing a poem with an abab rhyming scheme for 20 lines, then throwing in a different couplet. It's not what you expect, so it gets your attention.
What doesn't work for me is when people claim an established form and do something completely different. Last night, I watched Stanislav Pronin perform Lera Auerbach's "Par.Ti.Ta". Now, a partita is traditionally a suite of dances performed on a solo instrument. The movements in this were titled Adagio, Moderato, Andantino Scherzando, and so on. These are tempi, not dances. And they were anything but dancelike. Pronin said he'd asked Auerbach why it was spelled the way it was. The response was, "First of all, it looks cool." Auerbach seems to have solid credentials and a long publication history, so maybe it's me missing something here. But if I sold you a Com.Bo.5 and you got a sandwich with nothing else, you'd be a bit miffed. It doesn't matter how good the sandwich is; your expectations were not met. Even if it was two sandwiches, it's not what you think of as a combo. You want some kind of side and a drink, right?
So there you have it. There is organization and tradition in the forms of western art music that takes time to learn, but provides a richer, more active listening experience. You can even try listening to the form of popular songs. See who has the creativity to break away from the simpler forms. It's fun, as long as your mind doesn't drift off to your shopping list, or whether you just missed your turn....
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Introduction, first loves
Welcome to my new classical music blog. As you probably know, I'm approaching the end of my PhD work in condensed matter physics. In the time I've been here I've found myself more and more enamored with the world of classical music, by which I mean Western art music. Bravo if you know why the former term is somewhat ambiguous. Visitors to this site probably fall under two categories. You're probably either scientifically-inclined with a curiosity about classical music, or you're one of my friends who was a music major. I aim to write primarily for the former group. I want to spread this love I have so that more people can come to appreciate the beauty that I experience. But I ask for assistance from the latter group. I may know more than the average person, but I will leave out details or context or get things wrong from time to time. I make no claim to be an expert (not even with physics, ha!). I mean really, I've only very recently begun to be able to discern the form of a piece I'm listening to. (I still suck at it, but it's pretty exciting.) In my never-ending quest to learn more about classical music, I ask that you enrich my posts with any knowledge, corrections, opinions, or suggestions that you have. Even if you're saying that a post is completely erroneous or naive, I will love you for it. You may even gain something from the physical/scientific perspective I may take. We'll see how it goes.
As I've stated, my primary reason for starting this blog is to share my passion with the uninitiated. I plan to do this by sharing stories, articles, and videos with you. I may write about a piece that's stuck in my head, concerts I've attended, or some factoid that I think is entertaining. I already have a list of topics going. Requests will be honored if I feel capable. Should I be allowed to post on other topics that strike my fancy such as food, literature, or science? I haven't decided. For now I think it's best to keep this blog to one topic.
So let me start things off by sharing my background with classical music. Through playing the violin in middle and high school, I came to know much of the standard violin and symphonic repertoire. But I found myself far outclassed by the time I reached college to continue playing. So I lost my enthusiasm for, but was never too far removed from, classical music. Then I attended a monumental (for me) concert during my first year here in grad school. I had seen and met this particular violinist in college when she was just starting to cause a stir in the classical music community and was awestruck by her talents then. Seeing the now-world-famous Hilary Hahn perform the Glazunov violin concerto (and the Ernst transcription of Schubert's Der Erlkönig as her encore) ignited in me a new passion for this music that's persisted since. Yes, I met her again after that concert, and yes, she's still my favorite musician ever. But that story is worth a post of its own. At this point I started listening and listening to my old favorite symphonies and violin concertos, then to ones I didn't know and also to piano concertos, cello concertos, lieder, chamber pieces, opera, sonatas, character pieces, and so on. Eventually I took a freshman level music history class which was wonderful for consolidating and organizing the random tidbits that I knew. That was followed by a group introductory piano class and, most recently, private lessons in piano. I go to concerts when I can, especially if I'm traveling, and I started a small group to watch operas on DVDs. To say I'm hooked is an understatement.
A recent segment on "All Things Considered" discussed listeners' 'first loves' in classical music. I encourage you to follow the link. Some of the stories are particularly moving. Specifically, though, they asked about pieces of music. That disqualifies Hilary Hahn as my answer, so I'll give my actual first. The earliest piece I can remember loving is Antonio Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons." I guarantee you'll recognize it. My uncle had a videotape of some ensemble (which one I never knew) performing it. I remember the short, fat, old solo violinist's impeccable technique bewildering my young mind. That image with the evocative and memorable melodies gave me a reason to practice my technique. Eventually, I was able to hack my way through the suite, which I did. Often. Much to my classmates' chagrin. I'm somewhat thankful that no recordings exist of my playing back then. It would be painful to hear today.
So that's my first love in classical music. If you have one, what's yours? Do share. I would love to hear. Please comment or message/email me about this post and others you find interesting in the future. If I don't feel that I'm reaching anyone or learning anything in the process, it will be hard for me to continue this. I've enabled anonymous posting. As regards the title, well, it makes sense if you know my given name. Thanks for reading. I hope we can keep this up.
As I've stated, my primary reason for starting this blog is to share my passion with the uninitiated. I plan to do this by sharing stories, articles, and videos with you. I may write about a piece that's stuck in my head, concerts I've attended, or some factoid that I think is entertaining. I already have a list of topics going. Requests will be honored if I feel capable. Should I be allowed to post on other topics that strike my fancy such as food, literature, or science? I haven't decided. For now I think it's best to keep this blog to one topic.
So let me start things off by sharing my background with classical music. Through playing the violin in middle and high school, I came to know much of the standard violin and symphonic repertoire. But I found myself far outclassed by the time I reached college to continue playing. So I lost my enthusiasm for, but was never too far removed from, classical music. Then I attended a monumental (for me) concert during my first year here in grad school. I had seen and met this particular violinist in college when she was just starting to cause a stir in the classical music community and was awestruck by her talents then. Seeing the now-world-famous Hilary Hahn perform the Glazunov violin concerto (and the Ernst transcription of Schubert's Der Erlkönig as her encore) ignited in me a new passion for this music that's persisted since. Yes, I met her again after that concert, and yes, she's still my favorite musician ever. But that story is worth a post of its own. At this point I started listening and listening to my old favorite symphonies and violin concertos, then to ones I didn't know and also to piano concertos, cello concertos, lieder, chamber pieces, opera, sonatas, character pieces, and so on. Eventually I took a freshman level music history class which was wonderful for consolidating and organizing the random tidbits that I knew. That was followed by a group introductory piano class and, most recently, private lessons in piano. I go to concerts when I can, especially if I'm traveling, and I started a small group to watch operas on DVDs. To say I'm hooked is an understatement.
A recent segment on "All Things Considered" discussed listeners' 'first loves' in classical music. I encourage you to follow the link. Some of the stories are particularly moving. Specifically, though, they asked about pieces of music. That disqualifies Hilary Hahn as my answer, so I'll give my actual first. The earliest piece I can remember loving is Antonio Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons." I guarantee you'll recognize it. My uncle had a videotape of some ensemble (which one I never knew) performing it. I remember the short, fat, old solo violinist's impeccable technique bewildering my young mind. That image with the evocative and memorable melodies gave me a reason to practice my technique. Eventually, I was able to hack my way through the suite, which I did. Often. Much to my classmates' chagrin. I'm somewhat thankful that no recordings exist of my playing back then. It would be painful to hear today.
So that's my first love in classical music. If you have one, what's yours? Do share. I would love to hear. Please comment or message/email me about this post and others you find interesting in the future. If I don't feel that I'm reaching anyone or learning anything in the process, it will be hard for me to continue this. I've enabled anonymous posting. As regards the title, well, it makes sense if you know my given name. Thanks for reading. I hope we can keep this up.
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