A Faint Echo

Album: Johannes Regis: Missa Ecce ancilla Domini; Missa Dum sacrum mysterium
Composer: Johannes Regis
Instruments: 5 vocals
Musical Form: Mass
Year: ~1460

At least once before I've been disappointed by the whims of modern recording artists applied to early music, but this time it's a real shame because it's preventing me from hearing a key turning point in Renaissance music. Johannes Regis, a Franco-Flemish composer from the mid 15th century, was important for his part in establishing a tradition of five-voice arrangements in masses and motets. Yes, five is tougher to compose than four (and much tougher than three), so this is not a trivial change. Regis' masses made a big impression on later composers, including the likes of Josquin des Prez, for whom five voices would be the standard.

In the only album I could get my hands on, Johannes Regis: Missa Ecce ancilla Domini; Missa Dum sacrum mysterium, the crime was not so much the arrangement as the presentation; just because music was originally written to be performed in cathedrals and just because it projects a "deep" mood doesn't justify adding echo to match a German yodeler at the Grand Canyon. I can barely make out the notes in these masses, so the usual "texture" of early Renaissance polyphony is all but gone. Yes, it's true that being able to distinguish individual notes is not a universal quality of good music -- try making out every note in a Dead Kennedys album sometime -- but composers of early polyphony had no intention of blurring the lines between notes anymore than da Vinci meant for the Mona Lisa to be viewed through a fish-eye lens.

This is no artful reinterpretation, it's just careless production. Moving on.

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

Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux: A Canon Wrapped Inside a Puzzle

Album: Ockeghem: Missa "De plus en plus" & Chansons
Track: "Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux" (Track #7)
Composer: Johannes Ockeghem
Instruments: 3 vocals
Musical Form: rondeau cinquain
Year: ~1460

Long before quasi-psychedelic rock bands were syncing their LPs to Judy Garland movies and artists with postmodern aspirations were using backmasking to dodge censors, there was the puzzle canon. These deceptively simple pieces would be notated with only a single voice, but the composer would leave some clue that would indicate how the other voices were meant to be sung. For example, the other voices might sing the melody of the first voice in reverse or at half the tempo.

In the most well-studied example of this technique, "Prenez Sur Moi Vostre Exemple Amoureux," Ockeghem presents a rondeau and leaves the simple hint, "Take from me your example …" Using this and the form of the musical notation, the singers are to deduce that they sing the same melody as the first voice, but in different musical modes; that is, transposed up intervals of a fourth and a seventh. The result has an elegant, if somewhat bland, sound and illustrates how the juxtaposition of melody lines that are related to one another by a simple musical transformation can be pleasing to the ear.

These puzzle canons must have presented an intriguing game to early composers, as they would challenge themselves to find melody lines that could be transformed in simple ways to produce a pleasant harmony, much like a mathematician solving a complex equation. Indeed, the very relations that they sought were mathematical in nature. It would be interesting to see if any of the melodies that we are familiar with in the modern world could be self-replicated in such a way. Nevertheless, I have trouble seeing the lasting quality of this music. Despite its novelty, the music has little to offer our brains once we have "solved" -- that is, familiarized ourselves with -- the relationships between voices. One or two listens should be enough, then feel free to move on.

Related Links: Allmusic

Mort Tu As Navré De Ton Dart: A Fitting Tribute

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

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

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

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

Related links: YouTube

L'Homme Armé: Mass at Arms

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

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

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

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

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

Related Links: YouTube

chantblog: Early Music Resource

I recently came across a great resource for early music in the blogosphere:

chantblog

It includes links to recordings (YouTube, mp3, etc.), song transcripts, quotes from experts, as well as general information about chant and polyphony. Take a gander (but not under my frock).

Anonymous 4 and "Secret Voices": A Concert Review

One unfortunate side effect of starting my journey from the very beginning of Western music was the relative obscurity of the subject matter -- medieval music isn't exactly a big draw and you really have to plan carefully if you want to attend a professional performance. As a consequence, it took me a full six months before I was finally able to make it to a concert with music from the time periods covered so far in the Journey. I thought it would be worthwhile to describe the experience here, especially considering that the performance included material that I hadn't covered in previous entries.

Unlike the other sections of my blog, the concert reviews will discuss the entire experience, including the skill of the performers and the atmosphere they create. Whereas most of my entries are designed to help develop familiarity with the different composers and styles of times gone by, I view the concerts as a sort of culmination -- whatever this music might have to offer, the live performance should present it in its purest form.

It is perhaps unfortunate, therefore, that I wasn't able to find a recording to familiarize myself with before attending this particular concert. The program was entitled "Secret Voices," and the set was performed by Anonymous 4, a famous quartet of vocalists/scholars based in New York City. Named after the author of an ancient treatise on medieval music (circa ~1280), Anonymous 4 has been performing medieval vocal music for over fifteen years. My first exposure to them was in a recording of ballate by Francesco Landini called "The Second Circle," where they delivered beautiful renditions, despite my general distaste for the composer. In "Secret Voices," their set is composed entirely of music from the Codex Las Huelgas, a tome of polyphony that was compiled for use in a medieval Spanish nunnery. Although scholars aren't sure whether the nuns themselves sang this music -- it was supposed to be forbidden for women to sing polyphony in those days -- Anonymous 4 choose to believe that they are following in the footsteps of these ancient pioneers.

Needless to say, the performance itself was excellent -- if there were flaws in their renditions, they were beyond my ear to catch -- but I still found myself somewhat disappointed by the experience. Some of the material was intriguing, including the rhythmically-bold Parens patris natique and the conductus that inspired "Secret Voices," Mater patris et filia. However, a great deal of the rest felt like filler; I find it hard to believe that the hexachord excercise, Fa fa mi/Ut re mi was, as the program declared, among the "greatest music of [the nuns'] time." Even the canon, Benedicamus Domino a 3, failed to impress with its barely-overlapping phrases.

I would note also that the quartet chose not to use any form of sound system for their performance. I was seated in the middle of a small auditorium and could hear them clearly enough, but even with skilled singers, a quartet of unamplified female voices will tend sound thin in a large concert hall. I've listened to a lot of pretonal music for my blog, but even I felt like their sound needed a stronger foundation... perhaps the Cistercian probation on women singing polyphony was motivated by more than simple gender discrimination.

Regardless, I want to tip my cap to Anonymous 4 for their efforts. Few music groups will devote themselves solely to early music, and fewer still will restrict their repertoire to the Medieval period. These are truly the origins of Western music. If I had an opportunity, I would see them again in a heartbeat and I recommend that others do the same.

Related Links: Secret Voices Program

The Burgundian School: Volume IV of the Hopeless Journey

It seems that every new volume I put together becomes my favorite. Volume IV, which covers the period of the Burgundian School (1400 - ~1440), is no exception, though the music contained within is a considerable departure of that of the ars subtilior period covered in Volume III. Compared to their late medieval predecessors, the early Renaissance composers were more fond of grace and simplicity than experimentation. These trends are most vividly demonstrated in the work of Gilles Binchois, two of whose chansons are included in this playlist. The birth of triadic harmony is apparent in several pieces on the list, with John Dunstaple's "Veni Sancte Spiritus -- Veni Creator" being the best example. Finally, the most famous practitioner of the Burgundian style, Guillaume Dufay, is given his due respect, with four tracks including three motets and one chanson.

The order of the following tracks was selected for flow and is not chronological:

1. O Regina Seculi - Reparatrix Maria
2. Nuper rosarum flores
3. Triste plaisir et douleureuse joie
4. De Cuer Je Soupire
5. Ma Belle Dame Souveraine
6. Confort d'amours
7. Veni Sancte Spiritus - Veni Creator
8. Ecclesiae militantis
9. Se la belle n'a le voloir
10. Salve flos Tuscae gentis
11. In Tua Memoria

The total running time is ~50 minutes.

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

1. Guillaume Dufay: Quadrivium - Beautiful performances of the best work by the best composer of the early 15th century. This recording focuses on Dufay's motets, all of which were written in the early part of his career before ~1440. I think Dufay was at his best when he was allowed the compositional freedom offered by the motet, so consider this a must-listen for this period.

2. Gilles Binchois: Chansons - A brilliant demonstration of the 15th-century aesthetic, Binchois' chansons emphasize melody above all else.

3. Dunstable: Sweet Harmony - This recording is a excellent compilation of Dunstaple's work, especially considering the limited number of his pieces that have survived to the present day. Unlike some of the older collections, Sweet Harmony places emphasis on those elements of the music that made it so influential, most notably the full triadic harmonies.

4. Guillaume Dufay: Tempio dell'Onore e delle Vertù - Although probably not the best composer of chansons during his time (that honor should go to Binchois), Dufay's brilliance would occasionally shine through even in his secular. This recording is worthwhile, even if only for the beautiful "Ma Belle Dame Souveraine."

5. Music and Chants from the Time of Joan of Arc - For a somewhat broader view of the early 15th century, Music and Chants would be my recording of the choice. Not all of the selections are winners, but gems by Arnold de Lantins and Conrad Paumann stand out. Dufay's chansons are also well represented here.

6. Song for Francesca - An interesting but uneven sampling of late Trecento/early Renaissance pieces. The anonymous recordings stand out most pleasantly, though the collection includes works by Landini, Dufay, and Richard Loqueville.

7. Dunstaple: Musician to the Plantagenets - The Orlando Consort always deliver professional performances, but their selections from Dunstaple's catalog were somewhat underwhelming. This recording predates Sweet Harmony by a decade, so it may be that they were working from a more limited sampling of his music.

8. Dufay: Music for St. James the Greater - Perhaps spoiled by the triadic harmony and tonal feel of the later Renaissance masses, I found Music for St. James to be a bit tedious. The recording itself was widely considered to be breakthrough in the performance of early music -- my reaction is based more on a distaste for this compositional style. Perhaps the rigid forms would be more pleasing to less fanciful ears.

Latest Update: 11/07/09

Listening to Early Cyclic Masses

We don't often think of listening to music as a skill; after all, those of us who aren't listening for the purpose of writing a paper or preparing for a performance are hoping that the music will serve us. There should be little or no obligation in the other direction...

And it's true, we owe nothing to the music. Nevertheless, I believe we do owe it to ourselves to put in the legwork when we have trouble understanding the appeal of a particular style of musical composition or performance. I can safely say that there have been few things in my life that have been more rewarding than discovering new music, but even putting that aside, understanding the appeal of music from another culture (or subculture, as the case may be) can help us to better understand the people who created it. If all United States politicians went out of their way to develop an appreciation for hip-hop, I guarantee this country would have fewer problems with racism.

There are no real political implications when it comes to developing an appreciation for early music, but the experience can still broaden one's horizons a great deal. For me, the most difficult musical form to develop an appreciation for was the cyclic mass. In addition to being very long (typically 30-90 minutes in length), cyclic masses don't feature a great deal of repetition and seldom put emphasis on melody. It is very easy to become disconnected from the music -- I often caught my mind wandering, even when using headphones.

It may be that part of the problem was my inability to place the music in its proper context. As the name suggests, these pieces were written to accompany religious masses, all together with the solemn adornments, vast halls, and pious followers. As it is, lying in bed with my headphones on scarcely seems an apt replacement. Nevertheless, I believe I am beginning to understand what the Renaissance composers were trying to achieve.

Some modern critics describe early cyclic masses as "ornamental," implying that they served only to decorate an already lavish ceremony. I don't think this description does these pieces justice, however. Late music critic, Wilfrid Mellers, was a bit more generous in reference to John Dunstaple's early cyclic masses:

"He was not concerned with his own emotional response, which could only seek incarnation in time, but was rather, like Machaut, concerned to create, through his music, an 'atmosphere' in which an act of revelation might occur. He did not know when, or even if, it would happen, but he did his best to create the conditions in which it might. Just as an Indian vina player would perform for hours or even, with a few necessary intermissions, all day or all night while his audience of 'participants" came and went, so the ritual music in a medieval cathedral might resound for hours, while the congregation fluctuated."

The reference to an Indian vina player may be a tad obscure, but the point is clear. These masses were not meant to be approached like a movie, for which the director aims to tell a cohesive story that suffers when viewed in pieces. Rather, it is more analogous to a meteor shower. Any momentary display of brilliance may sweep the listener off their feet, but successive bursts do little to build upon one another. A cyclic mass is, quite literally, equal to the sum of its parts.

With this realization, I became less concerned about keeping a constant focus on the music. Often I would play the masses in the background while doing work or surfing the internet and every now and then they would pull me in, providing a fleeting but soothing experience. Whether I will ever achieve a true "revelation" through cyclic masses... only time will tell. In the meantime, I will enjoy them for what they are.

Related Links: Wilfrid Mellers' book

De Cuer Je Soupire and Early Harmony: A Whisper of Things to Come

Album: Music and Chants from the Time of Joan of Arc
Track: "De Cuer Je Soupire" (Track #9)
Composer: Anonymous
Instruments: 2 vocalists
Musical Form: Lai
Year: before 1420

There are many ways in which Medieval and Renaissance music can present a challenge to the modern ear -- not least of which are its use of unfamiliar rhythms, musical modes, and dissonances. Perhaps the most difficult thing of all, however, is learning to listen to compositions that are based on the principles of polyphony. Crudely speaking, polyphony treats the voices of a composition as independent entities, each moving through the musical space in a manner that is conscious of, but not tied to, the motion of the other voices. Unfortunately for the modern fan of early music, the majority of pieces composed since ~1600 have not been polyphonic, but have rather been based on the principles of harmony. Harmony, by contrast, treats the majority of voices in a piece like accompaniment to the melody, all coming together to form chords that change as the piece progresses.

To better understand the differences between the two approaches, think of a piece of music as a building. The parts of a polyphonic composition (the girders, bricks, etc.) are carefully interwoven so that the composite whole can remain stable and please the senses. However, this building lacks a foundation, so there are a limited number of ways in which pieces can be combined to achieve stability and still remain aesthetically pleasing. The use of harmony, however, provides the building with a foundation. Although the composer may use up many of the available parts to build this foundation, the stability it provides allows them more freedom in the design of the building. Whether or not the use of harmony over polyphony is better is a question of personal taste, but it is certainly easier, both on the composer and the listener.

Early Renaissance music was still being composed on the principles of polyphony, but there were hints of movement towards a more harmony-oriented style of composition. I already discussed the development of triads in 15th-century England. In "De Cuer Je Soupire," an anonymous composition included in a French manuscript written around ~1420, we hear two voices interacting in a manner that almost sounds like a chord progression. The higher voice clearly sings the melody and the lower voice acts as accompaniment. They undergo oblique motion for most of the piece, as the lower voice changes its pitch only for cadences and line changes. The effect is stunning, and perhaps somewhat familiar, at least in comparison to other compositions from the same time period.

Related Links: YouTube