chantblog: Early Music Resource

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.