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

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

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

Ars Subtilior and the Late Trecento: Volume III of the Hopeless Journey

The quantity of recorded music from the ars subtilior and late Trecento period (~1370 - 1400) is actually quite sparse, but the music is so intriguing that I had no trouble compiling a volume worth of my favorite tracks. I highly recommend this particular volume.

The ars subtilior was not dominated by any particular composer, although Baude Cordier makes two appearances on this collection. The late Trecento period is represented by Johannes Ciconia, an exhuberant Italian composer with a taste for French music. His works are rife with hocket and imitation, decorated with melismatic interludes. The order of the following tracks was selected for flow and is not chronological:

1. Una panthera
2. Belle, Bonne, Sage
3. Leray au soleyl
4. O felix templum jubila
5. Tout Par Compas (recommend recorder version)
6. Dieux gart
7. Fumeux Fume Par Fumee
8. Doctorum principem -- Melodia suavissima -- Vir mitis
9. En Seumeillant

The total running time is ~45 minutes.

The albums/collections I've heard, in order of preference:

1. The Saracen and the Dove - I already devoted a blog post to this album -- it is probably my Journey favorite to this point.

2. Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux) - This album includes vocal performances of some of the must-hear ars subtilior pieces, including "Belle, Bonne, Sage" and "Fumeux Fume Par Fumee." Unfortunately, it also includes some mediocre instrumental interludes.

3. En Seumeillant (French Ars Subtilior) - It's hard to believe that they can do so much with a trio of bass recorders, but this album really stands out for its interpretation of the ars subtilior pieces. Although Codex Chantilly presents more historically accurate renditions, I still recommend checking out this recording.

4. Popes & Antipopes - Music for the Courts of Avignon & Rome - The latter half of this album dips into the Renaissance, but the whole thing falls kind of flat anyway. Although from the same group that did Saracen, their choice of material here may have sacrificed quality for thematic continuity (songs about the Great Schism).

Latest Update: 09/12/09

Anonymous Composers: The Price of Anonymity

Album: Song for Fransesca
Track: "O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria" and "Confort d'amours" (Tracks #10 and 15)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: motet and rondeau
Year: ~1400-1430

It is an unfortunate fact of life that the appreciation of art is dependent upon who we can ascribe it to. Perhaps we have a primitive need for an idol, an artist who we can hold up as a standard for excellence, either for ourselves or for others... or perhaps we don't trust ourselves to judge a work of art unless we know the source. Whatever the reason, anonymous compositions from the medieval and renaissance period are difficult to come by in modern recordings. The vast majority of the existing choral recordings of early music are from the big-name composers, but every now and then a recording artist will include anonymous works on their album.

A number of such works were included on the recording, Song for Francesca, including the motet, "O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria," and the rondeau, "Confort d'amours." These are two of the best compositions that I've heard in my journey thus far, but I'm afraid that there is little I can say about them. I know that they were composed sometime in the late 14th or early 15th century in France and are fairly advanced, four-part works. The latter contains an intriguing rhythmic structure and may have been influenced by the ars subtilior. They also sound as if they could be isorhythmic, but I don't have the sheet music to confirm this.

Related Links: Song for Francesca review

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

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

Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée: Putting the Hippies to Shame

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades and Rondeaux)
Track: "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée" (Track #10)
Composer: Solage
Instruments: 3 voices
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: 1389
Composition for Comparison: "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground

Now this one's a real gem... here I thought I was going to have to wait until I reached the 20th century to partake in the drifting melodies of a composition crafted amidst a drug-induced haze. Go right now to iTunes (or your favored equivalent) and download "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée," a rondeau composed by Solage in the late 14th century. Also, go and download "Heroin" by the Velvet Underground as well, being sure to play the two songs in succession.

Before you listen, let me provide a little background on the Solage piece. It was written about a "secret" society of smokers from 14th century France, where men would gather to smoke drugs of various kinds, including tobacco and hashish. It's not known for sure if Solage was a member of this club, but the unusual character of his music has led many scholars to speculate to this effect. The composition is distinctively ars subtilior; that is, many of the rhythmic techniques it uses are actually typical of the period. Nevertheless, little else about the piece could be called normal from any point of view.

Possibly the most striking thing about "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée" is the way in which the vocal parts descend chromatically, both in short sections and throughout the piece. By the end, the vocal parts extend to a register far lower than found in the majority of polyphonic compositions of the period. The net effect is a feeling of aimless wandering, as the melody doesn't seem to be progressing to a definite conclusion and the vocal parts feel as if they're interacting in an increasingly counterproductive manner.

The melody in the Velvet Underground song, "Heroin," is relatively benign by comparison, but the song manages to achieve the same sense of aimless drifting with its erratic dynamic structure and heavy use of syncopation. It's certainly interesting that composers separated by 600 years manage to communicate drug addiction in such a distinctive and unconventional manner. Another song from the 20th century that makes for an interesting comparison is "The Crunge," by Led Zeppelin, which is about marijuana and, like "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée," features syncopated, chromatic progressions.

Related Links: YouTube, "Fumeux, Fume, par Fumée"

Journey Highlights: July 2009

Composer of the Month: Guillaume de Machaut

There is really no equal for Guillaume de Machaut in the late medieval period. His work has already been the subject of four Hopeless Journey blog entries, each covering a different musical form. He is the composer of arguably the most recognizable song from the medieval period, "Douce Dame Jolie,", and he is the first person known to have composed a cyclic mass. I would recommend different recordings to different folks, but at minimum, you should listen to "Douce Dame Jolie" and the Kyrie from La Messe de Nostre Dame.

Composition of the Month: "En Seumeillant" (Trebor)

The somber grace of "En Seumeillant" is truly timeless. Despite my failure to uncover a vocal performance of the piece, I would still mark it as my favorite of the ars subtilior period and would recommend it to anyone. A close runner-up is "Belle, Bonne, Sage," of which there are many excellent recordings. Its upbeat and offbeat melody are in stark contrast to "En Seumeillant," despite sharing the syncopative rhythmic style so characteristic of ars subtilior compositions.

En Seumeillant: Recorder Heaven

Album: En Seumeillant (French Ars Subtilior)
Track: "En Seumeillant" (Track #12)
Composer: Trebor
Instruments: 3 bass recorders
Musical Form: Ballade
Year: ~1380 - 1400

There is something very haunting about old songs. When a song becomes so old that the stylistic trends that gave birth to it are no longer familiar to its listeners, it becomes stripped down to its most naked form and the emotions it evokes spring only from those facets of ourselves that are universal to all human beings. In this way, we forge a connection to a long-dead society of people, but with the context lost, we never fully grasp the message of the song. The feelings are there, but cannot be understood or explained... they are ghosts trapped in sound.

Never did I feel this haunting quality so profoundly than when listening to "En Seumeillant", a ballade in the French ars subtilior style. The piece was composed by a medieval composer who, mysteriously, is known as Trebor (a backwards anagram of "Robert"). Very little is know about him -- he appears to have had several aliases -- but he was well regarded in his time and his pieces often make references to significant historical events. I don't know anything about the meaning of the lyrics, since I could find only one recorded version and it was performed entirely with bass recorders. However, unlike for many of the other ars subitlior pieces, I suspect the ambience of "En Seumeillant" is captured best by the recorders, rather than vocal performers. I recommend playing it in a very quiet place, with all of the lights out. If you listen carefully, you might hear the ghosts.

Related Links: Trebor

Belle, Bonne, Sage: Music in the Shape of a Heart

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux)
Track: "Belle, Bonne, Sage" (Track #7)
Composer: Baude Cordier
Instruments: 2 voices, vielle, clavicythérium
Musical Form: Rondeau
Year: ~1380 - 1400

I can't think of any song better suited to provide an introduction to one of the most popular musical forms of the 14th and 15th centuries than "Belle, Bonne, Sage." This piece is not only a good listen, but as with most ars subtilior compositions, is also rhythmically complex and experimental. It's certainly one of the most recorded compositions from its time period, though every performance seems to carry a unique style and feel. The piece was originally written as sheet music that was wrapped into the shape of a heart, where red notes are meant to indicate a slight alteration of the note values. These stylistic tendencies have sometimes been associated with mannerism (a Renaissance art movement), but there doesn't seem to be any direct link to that later cultural phenomenon.

"Belle, Bonne, Sage" is a rondeau. As I mentioned previously, medieval secular music generally used one of three formes fixes: the ballade, the virelai, and the rondeau. Rondeaux generally follow ABaAabAB, where A (or a) is a verse-like section and B (or b) is a refrain/chorus-like section. Here, capital letters indicate one set of lyrics and lowercase letters indicate another -- the reasoning behind this structure is a mystery to me. It nearly follows an alternating verse-chorus structure, but there's an additional verse in the middle of the song; perhaps it was used to provide buildup and lyrical context for the finishing phrases. Whatever the reason, this form was widely used by composers throughout the 14th and 15th centuries.

As ars subtilior pieces go, this is one of the easier ones to listen to, so it's a good place to start if you're interested in developing a taste for the music. I would also recommend it to a listener interested in listening to only one piece from the movement. If you're looking to follow the rondeau structure, the first verse ends at 0:30 and first refrain ends at 1:06.

Related Links: "Belle, Bonne, Sage" lyrics and translation , The poetic rondeau form

Ars Subtilior: Subtle Art

Album: Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux)
Year: ~1350 - 1400

This music really floored me. My reaction upon first listening to pieces from the ars subtilior was akin to a dog's ears perking up at the arrival of its master. Music like this was the reason I originally set out on my Hopeless Journey -- I craved something that was new... and yet also very old. I wanted to hear something that stimulated the ears of many great musicians but also something that was virtually unknown in the 21st century. I wanted to be challenged by something more than a placebo effect.

And so I was. These are not songs you can hum along to after one listen... or perhaps even ten listenings. They explore the musical space in a way that's both exciting and new. At first, they may sound as if the composers randomly chose notes to splotch together, like a child fingerpainting for an exhibit of abstract art. Eventually, however, the tunes will come together, and begin to sound energizing, somber, or perhaps even catchy.

The origins of this music are in the French ars nova movement, which was the first to challenge established polyphonic traditions in Western Europe. The music of the ars nova was still generally accessible to the casual listener; it was different, but not too different. Ars subtilior, however, took things to the next level -- it was music written for the musician or connoisseur, it was experimental, and it was challenging. Not until the 20th century would experimental music again attain such a prominent position in the musical world.

For the modern listener, this music is a special treat because it explores realms of musical space that are sparsely sampled by most composers, even in the six centuries that followed. It doesn't always contain the same tired cadences and chord structures that litter medieval music and which led to the standard musical practices that are so familiar today. It's true that some of the experiments carried out in this movement were influential on later composers, but the majority of what you hear will be fresh for most any listener. My first exposure to ars subtilior was in En seumeillant, in which the pieces are performed with recorders (simple wind instruments with that create very pure tones). This may have been a good jumping-off point because every note came through very clearly, but ultimately the pieces sound best performed vocally. Such recordings hard to come by, as ars subtilior pieces are notoriously difficult to perform. The collection linked above, Codex Chantilly (Ballades & Rondeaux), is the only pure ars subtilior vocal recording that I have been able to find. I strongly recommend it.

Related Links: Ars Subtilior

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.

Douce Dame Jolie: Verse, Chorus, Virelai

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

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

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

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

They told him don't you ever come around here

Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear

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

So beat it, just beat it

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

No one wants to be defeated

Showin' how funky and strong is your fight

It doesn't matter who's wrong or right

Just beat it, beat it

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

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

Douce dame jolie,

Pour dieu ne pensés mie

Que nulle ait signorie

Seur moy fors vous seulement.

Qu'adès sans tricherie

Chierie

Vous ay et humblement

Tous les jours de ma vie

Servie

Sans villain pensement.

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

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

External Links: YouTube

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.