Missa Prolationum

Album: Ockeghem: The Ockeghem Collection
Track: "Missa Prolationum" (Track #9)
Composer: Johannes Ockeghem
Instruments: 4 vocals
Musical Form: Cyclic Mass
Year: ~1460

Who says that beauty is the ultimate goal? Music, as any art form, ostensibly aspires to please the senses and stimulate our emotional center. However, for many of the self-proclaimed cognoscenti (myself included, at times), it also serves a higher intellectual purpose. We tip our caps to those artists who possess such technical skill that their quantifiable achievements seem out of the grasp of an ordinary practitioner. These artists appeal especially to those who appreciate more than enjoy (insomuch as those two things are mutually exclusive).

So it was, and is, with Johannes Ockeghem. An extremely skilled composer, Ockeghem composed, among other things, a thirty-six voice motet and a mass that was everywhere a double canon. For the latter composition, he wrote for four voices, two with original musical lines and two that mimicked the others, using the same pitch intervals but performing in different time signatures and at different absolute starting pitches. Constructing a listenable mass under such constraints is no small feat and Ockeghem is rightly viewed as a master at the manipulation and construction of vocal lines in the Renaissance style.

But is it really good music? This guy can play a piano upside-down, with his arms crossed and his head under the keyboard. Although the performance is impressive and no doubt took a lot of practice, what actual value does it have? Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying that Ockeghem is on the same musical level as our kitschy piano-playing friend, but before we crown Ockeghem the king of Renaissance music, I think it's fair to ask the question.

In the visual arts, perhaps the closest analog to Ockeghem's technique would be a hand-drawn fractal (see here for an example), where an artist is able to construct a complex figure connecting some initial geometric shape using a series of simple rules. In this analogy, the initial shape is like Ockeghem's melody for a single voice, a melody that he replicates in the other voices using simple mathematical relationships. Although there is an undeniable beauty in fractals, particularly when iterated many times over by a computer (example), do such images really compare to the work of artists like Pablo Picasso or Leonardo Da Vinci? Likewise, how do Ockeghem's "trick" compositions really compare to the works other great composers of the Renaissance and beyond?

My personal feeling is that they lack the pathos of his peers' work, as well as much of his own. The example quoted here, "Missa Prolationum," is a fascinating listen the first time you hear it. The elaborate canons produce a sort of long-period rhythmic pulsation that can be entrancing to those unfamiliar, but over the course of an entire mass cycle or on repeat listenings, the novelty value quickly wears off. Eventually, it becomes clear that the melodic restrictions Ockeghem was forced to impose in order to create his compositional miracle are ultimately suffocating the piece.

I won't go as far as to recommend avoiding Ockeghem, or even avoiding the pieces discussed here. Rather, I'll just say not to expect a deep personal connection to the music. It is interesting, but little more.


Related Links: Allmusic

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

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

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.

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