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

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"

The Trecento Madrigal: Art by Improvisation

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

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

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

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

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

Related Links: Improvisation in Madrigals

Douce Dame Jolie: Verse, Chorus, Virelai

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

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

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

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

They told him don't you ever come around here

Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear

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

So beat it, just beat it

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

No one wants to be defeated

Showin' how funky and strong is your fight

It doesn't matter who's wrong or right

Just beat it, beat it

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

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

Douce dame jolie,

Pour dieu ne pensés mie

Que nulle ait signorie

Seur moy fors vous seulement.

Qu'adès sans tricherie

Chierie

Vous ay et humblement

Tous les jours de ma vie

Servie

Sans villain pensement.

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

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

External Links: YouTube

Medieval Musical Modes: A Modal Frame of Mind

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

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

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

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

External Links: YouTube

Medieval Minimalism: Polyphony in the Shape of a Square

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

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

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