The Rhythmic Modes and Sederunt Principes

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

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

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

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

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

External Links: YouTube

Parallel, Oblique, and Contrary Motion

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

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

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

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

External Links: YouTube

Correction

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

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

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Beata Viscera

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

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

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

External Links: YouTube

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

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

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

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

~1000 A.D.: Gregorian Chant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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