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

En Amer a Douce Vie: A Medieval Traveling Song

Album: Machaut: Chansons
Track: "En Amer a Douce Vie" (Track #10)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Ballade
Year: ~1350

One of the difficulties with listening to new genres of music is that we need to get our bearings; that is, our minds aren't accustomed to the structure and style of the compositions we're listening to. As such, the music often sounds like a garble of phrases, perhaps with some familiar note patterns, but lacking any coherent flow. I found that I had these same difficulties with medieval music, despite the fact that the composition structure is generally simpler than that found in modern music and the sections of the composition are usually very clearly delimited. When I made an effort to look for this structure, however, the music began to feel more comfortable and listenable.

In medieval music, one of the forms with the simplest song structure is the ballade (distinct from a "ballad"). Essentially, a ballade is two verses followed by a refrain, repeated some number of times (usually three, in my experience). The length of the sections can vary from one piece to the next, but it's usually clear when they're ending because medieval composers have a tendency to establish their cadences very clearly -- the voices all sound at once and hold a sustained note. I think these rigid section endings detract from the flow of the piece, but it may be that the medieval ear would have gotten lost without them. I'm sure our music would sound like a garbled mess to them.

Anyway, one of the best ballades that I've heard is "En Amer a Douce Vie" by Guillaume de Machaut. It has a distinct rhythm that I tend to associate with some steady motion, perhaps walking or some other kind of traveling. For those trying to get their bearings, the first verse ends at 0:27 and the first refrain ends at 1:57. The verse 1-verse 2-refrain sequence appears three times in the piece. The refrain is unusually long in this ballade and I especially like how the bass line (established by the tenors) moves toward the end of that section.

La Messe de Nostre Dame: The Advent of the Cyclic Mass

Album: De Machaut: La Messe de Nostre Dame -- Le Voir Dit
Track: "Kyrie" (Track #1)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Cyclic mass
Year: ~1365

The development of music as an art form was not something that happened overnight, nor was it something that happened entirely within one musical period. In 14th century France, the freedom and sophistication of musical composition was increasing rapidly, but the musical community was still learning how to express itself. The ars nova revolution was bringing about great changes in the form and style of both sacred and secular music, while the Italian Trecento was integrating the expression of love into polyphonic composition. Nevertheless, music was still written in the form of independent motets or chansons lasting ~5 - 10 minutes, not long enough to express a broad or complex artistic message.

This first began to change in the sacred realm with the advent of the mass. In a previous entry, I commented on musical settings to individual portions of the Catholic mass, some of which date back to the early 14th century. It wasn't until ~1350, however, that the first cyclic mass (that we know of) was written. By cyclic mass, I mean a coherent work of art written by the same composer and with parts intended to be performed in a particular order. It should come as no surprise that the composer in question was Guillaume de Machaut, arguably the most important musician of the medieval period. His mass was titled, Messe de Nostre Dame (Mass of Our Lady).

Messe de Nostre Dame has six parts in total, the most interesting and impressive of which is the opening number, the Kyrie. The entire text to the Kyrie consists of a pair of two-word phrases repeated over and over again,

Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison,

which literally mean "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy." Despite the simplicity of the text, the musical setting is extremely complex, including four voices and an isorhythmic structure. I consider this portion of the mass a must-hear for interested readers -- the voices undulate like a wave in motion, creating an effect that is both beautiful and characteristically medieval in style. The remainder of the mass is pleasant as well, though it resorts to simple parallel vocal motion to recite the more wordy texts of, for example, the Gloria and the Credo.

Whether or not Renaissance composers were even aware of this mass is unclear, but the idea of creating complete musical settings to the Ordinary of the Mass caught on fairly quickly. By the 15th century, any composer of sacred music worth his salt had composed at least one mass. The mass offers a unique opportunity to make a direct comparison between the compositional styles of different composers in different eras and I'll no doubt be returning to it many times in future blog entries.

External Links: YouTube

Journey Highlights: June 2009

Composer of the Month: Philippe de Vitry

I compared him to both the Beatles and Lou Reed, acknowledging his ability to appeal to larger audiences and his penchant for experimentation. Although none of the individual pieces jumped out at me, his contributions to the development of musical notation, as well as the ars nova and Roman de Fauvel, have led me to select him as the composer of the month. The revolution he started in the early 14th century has been compared by some to the introduction of perspective into painting -- its importance for the later development of music cannot be understated. To really get a feel for the ars nova movement, I suggest listening to the Roman de Fauvel. His other work, although interesting, fails to capture the spirit of the changes that were occurring during that time period.

Composition of the Month: "Clap, clap, par un matin" (Anonymous)

Although more of a novelty piece than anything else, "Clap, clap, par un matin" was my favorite of the month, holding up quite well to repeat listenings. The early ars nova pieces were fairly erratic and experimental -- it was clear that they were not yet making the best use of their newfound musical freedom. "Clap, clap, par un matin" was not as complex or experimental as many of the de Vitry pieces, but it created an ambience that was both energetic and unique. A close runner-up was a motet called, "Lasse! comment oublieray" by Guillaume de Machaut. It certainly demonstrates more sophistication than "Clap, clap, par un matin", but is more representative of the latter half of the 14th century, which will be the focus of the coming month.

Mass Settings: Sitting Through Church

Album: Guillaume de Machaut: Motets & Music from the Ivrea Codex
Track: "Gloria: Et verus homo" (Track #2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Mass movement
Year: ~1350-1370

I don't usually enjoy the music in church services. In my youth, I remember spending many Sunday mornings squirming in the pews as the church organ bleated out some droning melody that did more to test my faith than reinforce it. The simplistic and monotonous arrangements seemed little meant for human ears, although the pews were sufficiently moved that they would rattle and creak at the rise of each note. At the outset of my Hopeless Journey, I had hoped that the great composers of medieval polyphony would help to elucidate the original beauty and appeal of sacred music. Sadly, with the possible exception of Pérotin, these composers have, despite fairly complex arrangements, succeeded at capturing the monotony of my early childhood church experiences. The most tedious of all are the mass movements, like "Gloria: Et Versus Homo," referenced above. These polyphonic compositions are written to accompany individual sections of the Catholic Mass and necessarily incorporate a standard religious text as lyrics.

Up to this point, I have primarily discussed motets, which incorporate a traditional gregorian chant but are generally played as an addendum to the standard mass rituals. Individual mass movements did not begin to appear until the middle of the 14th century and some of the earliest are found in the Ivrea Codex. In that manuscript, the mass movements -- Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei -- are written separately and by different composers, but they could have been used to accompany an entire mass. The Gloria referenced above is a typical example of how polyphony was used to express standard religious texts. Unlike motets and secular compositions, these mass movements emphasize the words over the music; the vocal parts move primarily in parallel motion to ensure that the text comes through clearly. This effect is most pronounced in Gloria and Credo mass movements, in which significant portions of text must be recited.

Although it helps a little to see a translation of the texts in these movements (it can be found on wikipedia), I wouldn't recommend spending a lot of time on individual medieval mass movements. However, as the medieval period progressed, the mass evolved and composers began constructing entire masses as individual works of art. Stay tuned for this, the mass will soon become more interesting.

Mining the Ivrea Codex: Clap 'Em Like You Just Don't Care... Par Un Matin

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" (Track #12, disk 2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 voices, 1 harp, 1 fiddle, 1 psaltery, 1 mandora
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1350-1370

Beginning a long tradition of unsolicited choreographic suggestions by overzealous musicians, "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" presents a clever use of the rare second rhythmic mode to create a sound that is both peppy and bizarre. I can almost imagine hordes of medieval peasants clapping their hands and dancing to this peculiar number, though I doubt that their modern-day counterparts could find the beat. Personally, I find it intriguing and I suspect that other musicians agree with me; I stumbled upon at least two other recordings of it on my journey.

The piece is unique, even within the Ivrea Codex. The Ivrea Codex is a collection of medieval polyphony from the middle 14th century France and, although no composers are given credit within, stylistic analysis of elements in individual pieces suggests that it contains works by famous composers, like Philippe de Vitry and Guillaume de Machaut. "Clap, Clap, Par Un Matin" could not be attributed to any particular composer and so remains something of an enigma -- to me, anyway. The style is likely to have originated in secular music and it may be that a great many secular pieces of this kind were composed but not transcribed for posterity. Our knowledge of music of that era was biased toward sacred music, as the church was one of the few entities with the means and motivation to distribute large volumes of transcribed music. However, one of the defining features of the ars nova movement was the increasing use of secular styles and techniques in sacred music, so perhaps these gaps will slowly be filled in later periods.

Isorhythm: The Hidden Patterns

One of the defining characteristics of the late medieval period (and the ars nova, in particular) was the use of isorhythm. In short, isorhythm is the repetition of an arbitrary pattern of note durations in all or part of a musical composition. This repetition may occur in more than one voice, but each voice need not carry the same rhythm. In contrast to the rhythmic modes, isorhtyhm allows the vocal parts of a composition more freedom by, 1) allowing for a rhythm of arbitrary duration and structure and, 2) allowing for overlap between the rhythmic units of different voices. Isorhythm is essentially nonexistent in modern music, but it is instructive to consider a similar musical technique, the round.

Most of us are familiar with the campfire song, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," in which one person starts singing the melody and then, after one or more measures are complete, another person begins singing the same melody. After each singer completes main melody line, they return to the beginning and repeat. This song structure could be considered a special kind of isorhythm because each singer repeats a rhythmic structure (that of the melody line) and the rhythms overlap -- that is, the singers finish the melody at different times. In medieval motets, a similar technique was used, but each singer would be singing a different melody and using a different rhythm. To generalize the previous example, imagine instead that, after the first singer completes a measure of the song, another singer jumps in singing only, "Row, row, row." This second singer repeats these three words over and over again, using a different set of pitches each time but speaking the words at the same rate. This three-word sequence can serve as the basic unit of isorhythm and is perhaps a closer approximation to how medieval composers would craft the lower voices of a motet.

Despite this basic understanding of isorhythm, the technique has so far eluded me in the pieces I've listened to. Unlike "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," medieval motets are highly complex and isorhythm was generally only used in some of the voices and for only part of a piece. Two of the most prominent practitioners of isorhythm were Philippe de Vitry and Guillaume de Machaut, but their pieces were composed to blend into a graceful whole, hiding the underlying structure. It's likely that the "undulating" feeling I get from Machaut's compositions is in part due to his use of isorhythm, but seldom can I pinpoint its origin. For the casual listener, I would recommend against trying too hard to find it -- their motets are better experienced as a unified whole.

Guillaume de Machaut: A Man of Many Hats

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Lasse! comment oublieray" (Track #18 on disk 2)
Composer: Guillaume de Machaut
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1330-1350

It is not uncommon for the great figures of a generation to excel in more than one area -- Leonardo da Vinci and Aristotle are two of the more dramatic examples -- but what I've read about Guillaume de Machaut is almost out of this world. It is unlikely that any future time period in my Journey will be so dominated by a single composer as the 14th century was by Machaut. His primary occupation was as a priest, but he is known today for his work as a poet and composer. His impact was immense in both areas; in the latter, he wrote some 150 pieces, including the first known cyclic mass. In addition, he was a trouvére (a Northern French equivalent of a troubadour) and an important figure in the development of secular musical formes, including the lai, the virelai, the ballade, and the rondeaux.

I will discuss all of the above contributions in more detail in later posts, but first listen to one of his motets, "Lasse! comment oublieray." When I was first immersing myself in the latter half of Music of the Gothic Era, this piece jumped out at me because of its contrapeuntal sophistication; that is, the contrary up-and-down interaction of the voices. The melody seems to undulate in a manner that you'll soon see to be characteristic of Machaut. I suggest listening to one of the anonymous motets of the early 14th century before experiencing Machaut because it really puts his work in context. There was simply no equal for the beauty and sophistication of Machaut's pieces and it's with good reason that he is the most revered composer of the middle ages.

External Links: YouTube

Le Roman de Fauvel: The Spirit of Rebellion

Album: Le Roman de Fauvel: Clemencic Consort
Composer: Anonymous/Philippe de Vitry
Year: 1314

Challenging the listener is not as risky as it used to be. In fact, originality is greatly valued in our culture... and if that originality is rebellious in nature, all the better; after all, what better way to draw attention to your work than to have it mock established tradition? Not so in the middle ages, when the dissemination of music and art was difficult without the support of the establishment. It is therefore somewhat incredible that a work such as Le Roman de Fauvel would garner so much attention in the 14th century. Although the recording, Le Roman de Fauvel: Clemencic Consort, presents only one possible interpretation of the manuscript (they perform only fragments, the full collection contained ~3000 verses and 169 musical pieces), this music possesses a quality I had previously not heard in my Journey... edge.

Written by a French clerk named Gervais du Bus, with musical arrangements by composer Philippe de Vitry (along with a collection of anonymous composers), this cheeky manuscript mocks both church and state and makes no apologies for crudeness. The story surrounds the exploits of an upwardly mobile donkey, whose continuous dissatisfaction with the improvements in his life lead him quickly into the grips of the seven deadly sins. I don't understand a word of what is being said, but the biting nature of the verse and the unconventional musical compositions remind me at times more of punk music than medieval polyphony. In "Veritas arpie", bagpipes accompany a monophonic lament similar to something you might expect to be performed by a drunken sailor. "Ad solitum vomitum" resembles the musical accompaniment to a Late Night with Conan O'Brien sketch that was written by a drunken sailor. Finally, in "Charivari", we hear a hodgepodge of chanting, percussion, and sound effects that were almost certainly drawn from a Yoko Ono wet dream (perhaps about a drunken sailor).

Nevertheless, having immersed myself so completely in the (largely sacred) music of the early medieval period, I find this music to be a welcome change -- and perhaps for the same reasons medieval listeners did. It doesn't take a modern listener very long to get tired of the repetitive rhythmic structures used by early composers. It's true, music need not be "edgy" to do away with these structures -- the changes originated here would be carried over to sacred music and would eventually become integrated into the entirety of Western music. This gradual development of the "new art" would bring with it the pretensions I alluded to in my last post. Nevertheless, I believe it is in Le Roman de Fauvel that we hear the true spirit of the original ars nova transition; that is, cheeky, rebellious, and crude.

I'm left wondering... in the later years of the movement, did devotees to this "new art" complain in the same way as aging members of 20th century countercultural movements? Perhaps they felt that the later ars nova composers "sold out" or lost the spirit of the movement... perhaps so, but there are always a few whiners.

It was 687 years ago today...

...Philipe de Vitry taught the French to play... without rhythmic modes. The point here, which should have escaped all but the most dim-witted readers (no, I didn't get that wrong), is that Philipe de Vitry is like the Beatles. How, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you. Up until the early 14th century, French musicians had been restricting themselves half-heartedly to a set of rhythmic modes (yes, I know you're tired of hearing about rhythmic modes), in part because they had become embedded in the musical notation. In 1322, de Vitry may have changed all that with a collection of "avant garde" music in which he broke all the rules (you might say he left nothing sacred, LOL).

I say he may have changed things because historians still aren't sure that he was the author, but let's say for the sake of pseudo-simplicity that he was. This "new" art music turned more than a few heads, and so was dubbed ars nova (that is, "new art"). It wasn't very good at first -- composers mainly liked it because it was different and gave them more rhythmic space in which to be unpleasant to listen to. I'll admit that de Vitry had a few good pieces, but for the most part he was just feeding the community's hunger for something new... like a medieval Lou Reed. I started out saying that he was like the Beatles, however, so I'll try to make that (seemingly contradictory) case as well.

You see, until the 14th century, music wasn't much of an art form. Nobles used it to dress up their courts and churches used it to augment their drone-happy services, but it wasn't generally viewed as an intellectual pursuit. That began to change with the ars nova, however, as musicians stopped being decorative and became something much more annoying -- they became artists. Just as Sgt. Pepper ushered in an era in which rock musicians could begin to snub their noses at one another, ars nova blanketed the music world in an air of pretension that it would never really escape from.

Many believe the true beginnings of ars nova can be traced back to the Roman de Fauvel, an allegorical play about a self-important equine antichrist. Philippe de Vitry composed most of the score, but I haven't gotten around to listening to it just yet. Its "rebellious" political satire could be compared to the drug-induced, postmodern fumblings of the late 1960's... or perhaps to some elaborate Orwellian version of an Aesop's fable. Either way, I'm happy to see musicians getting more pretentious, because it makes my journey a lot more interesting.

Zelus Familie: Perfect Simplicity

Album: Music of the Gothic Era
Track: "Zelus Familie" (Track #7 on disk 2)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: ~1300

The compositions of the ars antiqua period could only have been categorized as such in retrospect -- it is only in view of the musical advances of the following century that these pieces seem antiquated. In music, however, even the strictest and most simplistic rubric allows for beauty and we should not dismiss "primitive" work simply because of these limitations. In a modern context, perhaps punk music or blues are simplistic in comparison to progressive rock, but does that mean that they are inferior? Perhaps as music, but not as art.

It is with that mindset that I approach "Zelus Familie", an anonymously-composed motet from the early 14th century. Although technically classified as ars nova (more on this artistic movement soon), "Zelus Familie" has most of the elements of a 13th century composition. It keeps primarily within the third rhythmic mode and the voices remain tightly coupled throughout the piece. The only progressive element is its increased dynamic range, but I'm not sure if this was notated in the original manuscript or chosen by the performers. Either way, the results are beautiful in their simplicity -- a composition that might otherwise be hypnotic becomes emollient with the increased dynamic motion.

As far as medieval polyphony is concerned, the road gets rockier from here on. Although the most revered works from the medieval period were produced after 1300, the increased musical freedom that composers were allowed can be something of a burden to the untrained listener trying to cull the wheat from the chaff... bear with me, I'm sure there will be many gaps in my explorations.