All I Can Expect

I recently discovered that Allmusic.com has compiled a virtual treasure trove of information on classical composers and even individual classical pieces, far beyond that found on wikipedia. The reviews are remarkably erudite considering the open nature of the source. Since I download most of my music from iTunes, I don't get any booklets with the music I buy, but the list of reviews on Answers.com is often a more than satisfactory substitute, as it usually contains historical context, musical analysis, and biographical information on the composer. Of course, I can't be sure that the information is accurate, but I expect it's close enough for those of us that aren't planning to write a thesis on the material. In the future, when I write about a particular composition, I'll try to include links to the reviews along with my blog entries (see "Related Links," below).

Related Links: Allmusic.com

Kalenda Maya: You Can Dance if You Want To

Album: The Dante Troubadours
Track: "Kalenda Maya" (Track #11)
Composer: Raimbaut de Vaqueiras
Musical Form: Dance music, Troubadour song
Year: ~1200

One of the difficulties with listening to dance music is that is wasn't really meant to just be listened to. I know, dance music isn't supposed to be deep -- I'm supposed to let the rhythm of the music carry me away. Problem is, it always takes me somewhere boring. I was hoping that something I found on my Hopeless Journey would free me of this prejudice, but so far I've been unimpressed.

One of the earliest recorded examples of dance music is "Kalenda Maya," a song with lyrics written by a troubadour called Raimbaut de Vaqueiras (no relation to John Rambo, I think). The melody was composed by some long-forgotten jongleur who fancied plucking triple-meter ditties for drunk Frenchmen for naught but a swig of brandy... or somesuch. Thing is, dance music was seldom written down in medieval times because it wasn't considered important enough. The troubadours would tell you that if a jongleur could compose a danceable melody, anybody could. Regardless, this one was written down because a troubadour decided to put poetry to it and make it respectable. I'm not sure they succeeded, but I'll let you judge that for yourself.

The type of dance that this song was written for was the estampie, in which the dancer either dances with only one foot or stamps both feet... etymologists aren't quite sure which (I wonder who got a Ph.D. for that). Anyway, the dance is a close relative of the Saltarello, a medieval dance that appeared in Italy in the 13th century that gets a good bit of attention in modern popular culture. One notable recording of a Saltarello is by Dead Can Dance, an '80s group famous for popularizing "world music."

For the time being, I can't recommend spending a lot of time on saltarellos or estampies, but this may change as I delve into the Renaissance. Gutenberg invented his printing press in 1440, and the standards for what was considered worthy of being written down dropped significantly. Perhaps the propagation of written dance music even brought it to the level of an art form...

External Links: YouTube

Johannes Ciconia: Art Imitates Art

Album: The Saracen and the Dove
Track: "Doctorum principem - Melodia suavissima - Vir mitis" (Track #1)
Composer: Johannes Ciconia
Instruments: 4 voices
Musical Form: Motet
Year: 1409 - 1411

For an artist, catching someone's attention is much more difficult than it may seem at first. It doesn't matter the form of expression, a work of art always seems much more significant to the maker than it does to the casual listener. Over the years, musicians in particular have developed a wide variety of techniques to help overcome this difficulty, the synthesis of which led to what we would now call "pop" music. If implemented carelessly, the use of pop techniques can cheapen music, but in the hands of a gifted composer, their use can enhance the elegance and impact of a piece.

Among the most common tools of this trade is repetition. Whether on the scale of short sequences of notes or entire verses, repetition acts to reinforce a particular musical or lyrical theme. Even in medieval times, composers made use of repeated poetic stanzas (as in, for example, the virelai) or musical sections. In the late Trecento period, composers used "imitation," in which brief musical passages would be repeated, one singer after another. The repetitions were not always identical to the original passage, but the effect often resembled an echo.

Imitation was a particularly potent musical tool when combined with the hocket, as can be heard in "Doctorum principem - Melodia suavissima - Vir mitis," by Johannes Ciconia. The motet is about Francesco Zarabella, the archpriest of Padua Cathedral in the early 15th century, and it makes extensive use of the imitation and hocket techniques to construct an emphatic tribute to the man and his cathedral. The rapid melodic jumps, particularly at the end of the piece, are vaguely reminiscent of modern electronic music, but lend a more regal feel to the music in this context. This is one of the most impressive performances on the engaging album, The Saracen and the Dove, so I highly recommend it.

Related Links: YouTube, Doctorum Principem

Saracen and the Dove: This Dove Can Fly

Album: The Saracen and the Dove
Instruments: Vocal
Musical Form: Mixed Sacred Music
Period: Late Trecento (~1380-1420)

I had nearly lost hope for Trecento music after listening to the work of its supposed shining star, Francesco Landini. However, the recording, The Saracen and the Dove, is one of the most impressive and fascinating that I've heard so far. It is a collection of music from the late Trecento period, especially highlighting the work of Johannes Ciconia and Antonia Zachara da Teramo. Included in the collection are motets, madrigals, ballata, and even a short canon (like a round, more on this in a later post). In addition, although this blog has thus far avoided discussing individual performances and recording artists, I feel inclined to tip my cap to the vocal group, the Orlando Consort. I've encountered them several times on my journey and every time they have delivered superb vocal renditions, often of extremely difficult material. The Saracen and the Dove is no exception, give it a listen.

Related Links: Orlando Consort

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.

Ars Antiqua: Volume I of the Hopeless Journey

The inclusion of a cantiga de amigo puts the finishing touches on the first collection of music from my Hopeless Journey. What follows is a playlist of songs written before ~1320 (the approximate beginning of the ars nova period) that I consider to be among the best I've encountered on my travels. The purpose of this list is not to recommend any particular set of recordings, but rather to compile a set of compositions that represent a fair sampling of the time period and provide a pleasant listening experience. The ordering of the list attempts to compromise between listenability and chronological development, with an emphasis on the former. I may update the volume (add and/or remove tracks) as I continue to listen to music from the period.

1. Reis Glorios
2. Viderunt Omnes (Track #3, Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame)
3. Sederunt Principes
4. Cantiga de amgio: Ai Deus, se sab'ora meu amigo
5. Hoquetus I-VII - Neuma / Virgo / In seculum longum / D'Amiens longum / In seculum
6. Beata Viscera

The total running time is ~40-45 minutes, depending upon which versions you download.

I haven't sampled a great many albums/collections as compared to the total volume of recordings out there, but the best I've heard, in order of preference, are

1. Léonin & Pérotin: Sacred Music from Notre-Dame - A collection of Notre Dame polyphony from ~1200, presented in the order of musical development
2. Music of the Gothic Era - A rather diverse sampling of early medieval music that
also includes ars nova pieces
3. Wanderers' Voices - Medieval Cantigas & Minnesang - The nicest set of monophonic medieval songs that I've heard
4. Music of the Middle Ages, Vol. 1: Troubadour and Trouvere Songs - relatively bare-bones recordings of some of the better troubadour songs.

I don't have much to offer those looking for recordings of Gregorian chant, as I wasn't impressed with anything I heard. However, Salve Regina: Gregorian Chant is one of the more critically acclaimed collections.

Latest Update: 09/01/09

Cantigas de Amigo: The Gender-Confused Jongleur

Album: Wanderers' Voices - Medieval Cantigas & Minnesang
Track: "Cantigas de amigo" (Track #11-17)
Composer: Martin Codax
Instruments: 1 vielle, 1 voice
Musical Form: Cantiga
Year: ~1230 - 1300

Not everyone who listens to the Beatles' recording, "Please Mister Postman" (a song from their Cavern Club days that made it onto With the Beatles), realizes that the original version of the song was written from the point of view of a woman. The song was first released as a single by the Marvelettes in 1961 and laments the tragedy of a woe begotten girl whose boyfriend is away at war. Desperate for word from her beau, she implores the postman for comfort, with "just a card... or just a letter." Alas, the song ends with her unanswered pleas fading into the distance... If you're familiar with the Beatles' recording, this image likely never entered your mind, as the fab four deftly transformed it into a fast-paced power pop number, with guitars ringing and John Lennon belting out the now pronoun-reversed lyrics.

It's likely that the song's message was of little concern to the Beatles, since pop music was seldom written to be poetic in 1963 (the Beatles would later help to change this, but that's for another post). Even today, it's not uncommon for pop standards to have their pronouns changed to suit the vocalist in question. What is uncommon, however, is for a vocalist to sing from the point of view of a member of the opposite sex. Nevertheless, this is exactly what Spanish jongleurs did in the 13th century when performing one of the most popular musical forms, the cantiga de amigo.

In short, a cantiga de amigo is a love song in the voice of a woman. Women seldom performed music in the 13th century, so it seems likely that it was the jongleurs themselves (all male) who performed these pieces. The recording in question features seven cantigas de amigo, all composed by Martim Codax, and in the manuscripts from which these pieces are drawn, they always appear in the same order. This suggests that it may have composed a coherent work of art or perhaps a performance set list. The songs have some of the most beautiful monophonic melodies that I've heard from medieval music, so I highly recommend them to the interested listener. Perhaps the Beatles should have taken a cue from these ancient minstrals -- there is no shame in voicing a woman.

Related Links: Book of translated cantigas de amigo lyrics

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

The Trecento Madrigal: Art by Improvisation

Album: Landini and His Time: 14th Century Italian Ars Nova
Track: "Vestisse la Cornachia" (Track #9)
Composer: Jacopo da Bologna
Instruments: 1 voice, 1 vielle
Musical Form: Madrigal
Year: ~1350
Composition for comparison: "Freddie Freeloader" by Miles Davis (1959)

For those of us who like to sing or hum along to our favorite songs, improvised music can present an unwelcome challenge. Unlike arranged music, it should not be approached with the intention of developing familiarity; just the opposite, the thrill of improvisation is in the unexpected. It's not completely random (like the more obscure "chance music") -- the musicians are still working within a prearranged structure -- but the driving melody is seldom predictable or repetitive. The notes that are played depend more upon the mood of the musician at the moment it was recorded than on any larger artistic purpose. The casual listener may allow the music to carry them astride, like an elaborate neural massage, while for the connoisseur the experience may be more like a voyage of discovery -- notes arise in new and unexpected patterns as the performers freely explore the vast musical spaces stored in their brains.

Truly improvisational music is, of course, a fleeting thing. There is no way for a modern performer to play ancient improvised music in the way it was intended to be played because our minds are polluted by exposure to the many centuries of subsequent musical development. Nevertheless, there do exist musical forms that are written in a pseudo-improvisational manner; that is, with a melody that is fairly free in form and not adhering to any larger-scale melodic structure. One such form is the madrigal, a development of the Italian Trecento in the mid-14th century.

A short but characteristic example of the madrigal is "Vestisse la Cornachia" by Jacopo da Bologna. The piece is composed for two voices, but in this particular arrangement, only the melody is carried by a vocalist. Note the relatively simple manner in which the two parts interact, with the accompanying vielle moving steadily in the background as the lead voice provides an elaborate melismatic foreground. There is a great deal of similarity between melodic motion heard here and that found in modern improvisation forms, such as jazz and blues. For comparison, listen to "Freddie Freeloader," a jam off of Miles Davis' groundbreaking album, Kind of Blue (1959). Listen to how the saxophones, piano, and trumpet exchange the lead melody, while the backing musicians provide a skeletal accompaniment.

The madrigal did not last much beyond the 14th century, although an unrelated form with the same name arose in 16th century Italy. It seems that the early madrigals of this type had very little popular appeal... if only Coltrane had been born six centuries earlier.

Related Links: Improvisation in Madrigals