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

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

A Final Note on the Troubadours

Album: Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs
Track: "Ples de tristor, marritz e doloiros" (Track #2)
Composer: Guiraut Riquier
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 viol
Musical Form: Troubadour song
Year: ~1200

Although much romanticized even in modern culture, I believe that the essence of troubadour music is much further from our grasp than we might think. Even if we disregard all of the uncertainties in its arrangement (discussed in detail in Troubadour Shmoubadour), those of us not fluent in Occitan, the language in which troubadour music was written, will still be deprived of the imagery that accompanies good lyric poetry. Fans of the 20th century troubadours, those of us with an appreciation of Bob Dylan and Niel Young, understand that the impact of good folk music is rooted in these images. Although we might have access to translations of 13th century troubadour lyrics, their words will never have the same impact on us that they had on their contemporaries. Even a crash course in Occitan would likely not be sufficient -- words mean much more than what they refer to and without proper context, their spirit is lost.

The track I refer to above shouldn't necessarily be listened to in full -- it's only meant to illustrate my point. At over 12 minutes in length, "Ples de tristor, marritz e doloiros" feels repetitive and drab after around the fifth stanza. The melody is sweet and gentle -- it certainly offers more to the casual listener than the Gregorian Chant -- but we are still left wondering how it might have sounded to a 13th century ear. The troubadours are an important stage in the development of medieval music, but I wouldn't recommend them to a modern listener searching for anything more than ambient music.