Mort Tu As Navré De Ton Dart: A Fitting Tribute

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

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

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

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

Related links: YouTube

L'Homme Armé: Mass at Arms

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

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

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

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

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

Related Links: YouTube

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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