Total what?

So I don't really understand Totalism. I don't really understand the term itself, how it differs from post-minimalism, and what that means for the compositional process.
Gann starts off by stating that the genre on whole is akin to post-minimalism, but in his precise bullets that discuss the background of totalism, it doesn't particularly strike me as MUSICAL aspects that differ from other pigeon-holed genres. The justification for Totalism and reasons Gann state are largely sociological and historical, such as the environment in which this generation of composers were growing up. Okay, I acknowledge that this is a massive part of the process of composition, but being the budding theorist that I am, where is my analysis? Okay so they use come poly-rhythms? Is that it? great thanks for being so thorough.

Perhaps these questions will be resolved, or at least discussed to my satisfaction during class discussion. Or I can only hope.

So in my confusion I tried to focus on one of the composers discussed to try to latch onto something I could recognize and acknowledge and learn about correctly. Mikel Rouse was my choice, after watching this clip of Dennis Cleveland online:



At first, my reaction was merely "what is this 90's pseudo pop crap?" And as soon could latch onto something more musical about it, rather than just talking about the composer's life and background, I knew there was something more there.

Then I found THIS VIDEO. And all was made clear. Thank you so much Mikel Rouse, for clearly and succinctly explaining your process, as well the rhythms, using examples from your composition (like the part about Soul Train from Dennis Cleveland)

WATCH:


I also enjoy his discussion of "structured pop music", not that he claims that his works are quite applicable to this term, but the evolution of more 'academic' pop music. I am wholly glad that Rouse is bringing the importance of intelligent popular music to the forefront of the mind through his compositions, as I am pretty passionate about understanding and analyzing popular music (I jokingly tell everyone I would love to write my dissertation on Michael Jackson...except I'm not actually kidding).


As a sidenote, the idea of performance art is always astounded me. I think a lot of people, including myself, find it pretty funny in several cases, and it might be because of artistic endeavors like this one:


Media site Gawker tells the tale of Alison Knowles making a giant salad as performance art. Just makes me pretty hungry. Actually, one of the more provoking questions I thought of while watching her performance at the Tate museum in London was, "why does she choose classical string quartets to accompany her salad performance?" If performance art is to encompass the entire artistic being in a work, was choosing Mozart or Beethoven chamber music a conscious decision?

I don't know. I'm going to go eat a salad now.

Goldilocks' problem.

As I read the articles assigned this week and pondered the role of race in the avant garde, I noticed a lot of trends throughout both articles that bring up an issue.

Do we over analyze or under analyze avant garde works? and how does this analysis affect the role of race in the music or art form?
In Whitesell's article I noticed he spoke much more to the general themes of avant garde, but also contained a lot of examples drawn from the minimalist sub-genre (which was fantastic for me, because it is something I can relate to and expand upon based on my preexisting knowledge).

Whitesell presents the idea of getting back to "zero", wiping the slate clean and removing what centuries of Western music had covered up. Cage was a large proponent of this, but the author even cites the Beatles as assistants in this task (unnamed album, 1968). This idea is largely evidenced and supported by real statements from composers and artists, but I couldn't help but think that looking at these works from this angle only could potentially under analyze their true statement and/or value.

Then all of a sudden the shift is back to minimalism, and discussing different aspects of it. First Reich's early tape and phasing pieces, "It's Gonna Rain" and "Come Out", most emphasizing the role of race in their composition and foundation. Then there is another tangent about the complexity of Reich's music, citing "Music for Pieces of Wood" as a broken down, analyzed example. Whitesell does an eloquent job of explaining how the music undergoes processes and reaches temporal climaxes and points in the piece that are clearly non-traditional, but anchor the listener (and likely the performer!). I am pretty fond of this term actually, and appreciated the analysis.
However, I took a step back: How did we get to this very intrinsically sought out point in a specific example of Reich's music? This seems like examining tiny carpet fibers, versus looking at the entire room if we were considering the Zero concept.

So what is the moral here? There's Too much, Too little and "just right". Maybe Goldilocks was a cunning little thief, but she knew just how much she wanted. I don't know if a mean type analysis is available or how practical its application would be, but these seem like two extremes, present in an article that isn't all that long or exhaustive.

Listening to Dubstep on loop can be good for your health

What is avant garde in rock today? Well that's a really tough question when you consider how poorly I follow current pop and rock trends. (I really like Michael Jackson? can we talk about that?)

Anyway, I want to digress a little about Dubstep, something we haven't discussed since our exploration of conceptualism and Edgar Varese. I recently have been discovering the world of electronic music, and being shown how sounds are created, analog synthesis, tracked and performed gives me an entirely new appreciation of the world of electronic music.

We discussed a more 'classical' style development of electronic music, like that of Lucier, Oliveros, etc. I only mean classical in its broadest term, such as music that would be performed in a concert venue.
Yet electronic music has transformed pop and rock music in every facet of its creation, and the entire sub-genre of electronic/dance/house music.

So let's go back to Dubstep. After looking it up, I realize that I am just beginning to scratch the surface of electronic pop music. Not so coincidentally, Dubstep was born in the 90's in south London (I say uncoincidentally because both Laurie Anderson and the members of Pink Floyd were British musicians).

Let's look at the Grammy award winning track from Skrillex, easily the top selling dubstep single of the decade:



Since Chris showed us this song in class, I have been literally obsessed with it (much to my roommates disdain). As Wikipedia so eloquently states, "Musically, "Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites" is prominently a Brostep song that uses elements of electro house, progressive house and glitch."

To clarify, "brostep" is an even further sub-genre of dubstep used to describe much of American dubstep, especially the music of Skrillex. If is characterized by agressive tempo, style and use of electronics, as well as a very thick texture especially around the middle range of sounds.

Anyway, Why is this avant garde? Because I haven't heard of it before this semester? Well, yes. But also because it is a completely electronic (minus sampling and intermittent and processed vocals) form of popular music that most of us wouldn't hear on the radio, seek out readily or invest time in analyzing. I personally have become absolutely fascinated by the rhythm that is produced in these sounds, as well as the complete variety of unique sounds, as well as the intensity of emotion that these songs are able to convey with little to no vocals or lyrics.

Also, it makes me want to dance. And I do. Something about Skrillex's other track, "Kill EVERYBODY" does not inspire at all the sentiment that the title suggests; a little disturbing.

Anthony Braxton is severely underrated. His virtuosity, technique, sound and progress in the jazz world is vital, but not always acknowledged.

So, I spent most of the evening comparing Braxton's many different tunes posted on youtube. And one detail I kept uncovering is how he never ceases to make a new mark on traditional heads and tunes that even every jazz musician on earth has played. Listen to him blow over the popular tune "Black Orpheus", noting a few things:
-the use of sopranino saxophone (huh!?)
-The way in which Braxton's combo stay pretty nicely within the changes during their solos, but the registral, timbral, harmonic and melodic outgrowths Braxton takes advantage of in his solo (beginning at 4:55)



Braxton played several standards (in fact, this tune is off a set of 23 standard tunes which Braxton plays with his quartet). Yet, he is widely criticized, some very harshly so, stating that he barely can be defined as Jazz. One of these critics is the dictator of the trumpet, Wynton Marsalis. Pardon my french, but I think Marsalis is a giant douchebag. He is notorious for his lack of knowledge and acknowledgement of jazz past 1965 into the more avant garde sub-genres. In classical music terms, I would equate this to someone who insists that Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven is the be-all-end-all of music and our attention should stop there.

Is this complete ignorance for monumental progress in jazz music? Of course. I think Braxton does a wonderful job of bridging the gap between the more accepted "traditional" jazz tunes, forms, and harmonic and melodic frameworks, slowly edging in his new ideas into each tune. His compositions, like "Composition 40B" are not truly that extreme, but with the knowledge that many of these compositions utilized graphically notated scores is another huge step in the genre. By taking better know jazz material and applying his avant garde concepts to it, new listeners can be drawn in. Take for example the tune Nefertiti, by Wayne Shorter. Off the album by Miles Davis of the same name, it is a very standard and popular album and tune (one that I was familiar with by the time I was 16!). Listen for Miles' quintessential sound, as well as the little arragements of the head that Shorter and Davis play together, as well as the accompanying rhythm section, made up of jazz GIANTS Herbie Hancock, Tony Williams and Ron Carter. This isn't anything too jarring, even for the most naive of jazz listeners.



Now, I present Braxton's version of Nefertiti: Full of extremes, risks, and new material you would never find on Miles' album. Also note that he is accompanied by Chick Corea and Dave Holland, two artists who are not necessarily considered avant garde in their styles, but exhibit unique versatility in this recording. I'll admit I was skeptical at first because the opening of the tune, before the head played by Braxton is quintessentially Chick Corea (aka, it sounded like every piano intro off of every Corea album), but as soon as Braxton enters, that sensation disappears very quickly.




Lastly, I will leave you of this recent video of Braxton, and the premiere performance of his Composition 358, recorded and sold as a live performance from Iridium (a jazz club in Manhattan) in 2006. Here Braxton's style does not adhere to any sort of traditional jazz means. Things to watch for:
-The pictures of Braxton's unique notation: not truly 'graphic notation', but certainly not adhering to traditional notational means
-the diverse instrumentation (bassoon, tuba, sopranino saxophone, etc.)
-The insightful dialogue over the music by Braxton



"Redefine the idea of thematic...motivic..."

"The last 2,000 years have been wonderful, but we're not at a point we need to get away from the idea of Sonata Form... we need to find a formal space equal to the possibilities we have in this genre."

In closing; suck it Wynton.

The Hunger Games: heralding the Avant Garde

So I picked up the Gann to read chapter 10 and literally groaned out loud at the prospect of reading 30 pages about electronic music. Then I caught myself in quite the hypocritical situation. The self-proclaimed patron of new music is scoffing at a huge major genre of Avant Garde music? What a travesty. So I took it to my friends, like I have been.

They, surprisingly, didn't mind it. They convulse at the sign of Meredith Monk and heave at the first measures of Milton Babbitt. However, they didn't mind a little bit of Subotnick. I then put on some Laurie Spiegel... which really set them off. All of a sudden, I was sitting amongst 12 year old fangirlz:
"THIS IS FROM THE HUNGER GAMES! OMG OMG! THIS IS FROM THE SCENE WHERE SHE..."
blah, blah, blah.

A disclaimer: I'm sure the Hunger Games are a delightful and well written book series and film. It's just not my thing, nor do I have the time to spend reading the books.

Okay, so why does this certainly Avant Garde music strike them as okay? It wasn't Laurie Spiegel that did this, it was the massive, billion dollar film industry.
Think of the scores Philip Glass has written for films, such as the Hours or the Illusionist. These scores have certainly reached out to an audience that would never consider listening to Glass' music.

So, I listened to all of Spiegel's work "Sediment" (the one featured in the film) and actually quite enjoyed it, and I continued to listen to different parts of the movie soundtrack. It is quite electronic in many pieces, and I think for those who pay attention, and are obsessed with the movie like many are, this situation can be a stepping stone for electronic music.



Personally, I am currently in Electroacoustic music class and have been able to appreciate electronic music because I understand the means in which it is made. Similar to a non-musician who cannot appreciate a difficult violin concerto because they have no concept of technique or knowledge of classical music. As I've come to discover, anything that can promote classical or avant garde music, especially music that perhaps may hold a stigma such as electronic music, is good in my book. Good job, "Hunger Games".

Remember how much I love Steve Reich? Well don't tell, but I'm cheating on him...with John Adams. I've heard some (lay-)people accuse Adams of being "minimalism-lite".

So after I'm done chastising them for their ignorance, I'll retreat back to my lair and listen to several hours of John Adams. I'll read his autobiography for the fourth time, then watch a full length opera by him. Okay this is a little extreme, but I'd like to think that John Adams has been a vital and flexible pillar of the contemporary composition.

Why do I believe this? I didn't really realize it until I was watching a recent broadcast of his newer piece, City Noir premiered by the Los Angeles Philharmonic under Dudamel, where Adams is resident composer.

I am well aware of his experience in electronics and tape music, the little known repertoire that was written even before Phrygian Gates (which he considers to be his opus one, the first real and coherent of his works). One professor once told me about how she spent time in San Francisco at the conservatory and needed to make recordings; John Adams was her "recording engineer". A decade later she was in touch with him and reminisced about their time recording, and allegedly he said "I don't do that any more..." ...he had reached 'legitimacy'.

After our discussions about Glass and Reich in past classes, I had become paranoid that these most famous minimalists had "sold out" to the music scenes that never really seemed like they never fit into. Reich is now writing for Kronos (like his more programmatic and doesn't appear to endure the same processes as his previous works). Glass has written several film scores in recent years, that almost barely resemble his symphonies, operas or especially the earlier works (ex. pretty much anything written for the Philip Glass ensemble). Granted, we must take into account that commissions or genre (such as film) changes composition in many facets. John Adams has encountered similar criticism; even I noticed it in City Noir: it sounded kind of like glorified, post 2000 Gershwin. Not that I disliked this at all, I simply prefer the golden age of Adams...Nixon in China, Shaker Loops, Harmonielehre, etc.

At the end of the day, we all have to eat. I don't blame any of these compositional giants for taking the new and unique opportunities presented to them, as an opportunity to evolve compositionally and musically.

When comparing the differences between Reich, Glass and Adams, I feel it's fundamentally important, and also fundamentally ignored that Adams is not in the same generation as the former two. Reich and Glass were New Yorkers, conservatory trained, but seasoned city dwellers. Adams grew up in New England, attended Harvard, then lived the bohemian life in San Francisco. Adams is also over a decade younger than Reich and Glass, as if location and experience weren't enough! Comparing these three is like apples and oranges. I do agree with the more romantic aspects of Adams' music; but is it the programmatic aspects? instrumentation? Perhaps a combination of several factors. In the end, I feel as though I can connect emotionally more to John Adams' works (in most cases), which I try for in Glass' music, for example, but sometimes fail.

"I've got a secret"

I have a confession to make...
.........I love Steve Reich.

I love everything about Steve Reich. His music, his philosophy, his Judaism, his compositional evolution...I could go on and on.
When I started listening to minimalism back in high school, I did it mostly as a reaction towards my mother. She would complain about my lack of discipline while practicing piano and suggest that I listen to more Beethoven or Glenn Gould's Bach recordings (not to knock Gould, those recordings are masterpieces).
This only made me blast Music for 18 Musicians even louder. I explored Philip Glass, Terry Riley, John Adams...minimalism's greatest hits; but I always latched on to Steve.

For one reason, I believe it's because his process, which he discusses in depth in the article from Contemporary Composers on Contemporary Music. I was so sick of identifying the recapitulations, the 'secondary themes', the fugue subjects and countersubjects, etc, that this new means of unfolding musical form was fascinating.
In Reich, all the audible facets of music come together to aid in the process. The rhythm, harmony, instrumentation, melodies change gradually over time to make subtle changes and take what was once a small amount of material, spinning out into a larger canvas of musical form and ideas.

What I also wholly appreciate about Reich is his dedication to cultural ideas and allowing it to enhance his music. Many of my favorite works are those influenced by Judaism, for example the lesser known opera "The Cave", based on the Old Testament, as well as the even lesser known yet newer "Daniel Variations". Daniel Variations strike a particular chord, as they were written after the passing of journalist Daniel Pearl, who was executed in the Middle East by terrorists. Pearl was also Jewish, and the text of the piece is drawn from Pearl's own writing and songs, as well as excerpts from the Bible. Bringing intensely deep meaning to the music, beyond the fascinating analytical aspects, really makes the strongest connection for me as a listener.

As I thought about Reich tonight, I also thought of other artistic mediums in which Steve Reich and the types of minimalism he embraced might be influential or have influenced his work. Out of the blue, I thought of French impressionist Claude Monet and his "Water Lilies" works. Monet completed around 250 of these valuable and stunning works...Many of them are subtly different, but Monet manipulates light, color, perspective and an array of other perceptions to change a single subject matter into a prolific body of works. Monet uses a different process to take each painting by, and despite using the same materials, oil and canvas (just as a composer would use an ensemble, string quartet, orchestra over and over for different works), he manages to result in a new and innovative process each time.
In this respect, Reich does similar things with his composition: for example, he is often conservative with his harmonies and tonalities, just as Monet does not use radical colors or non-lifelike perspective in his paintings.

I cannot imagine Monet was criticized for being "repetitive" in his lifetime for creating so many works surrounding water lilies alone, yet minimalists have to bear this stigma often.
We can visually see that so many of Monet's works were strikingly different and each one beautiful in its own unique way, despite that they center around the same subject matter. (scroll down to the end of the Wiki article for an array of the paintings!)

Reich himself said the following, coincidentally surrounding French impressionism, but referencing music and composers:

"The point is, if you went to Paris and dug up Debussy and said, 'Excusez-moi Monsieur…are you an impressionist?' he'd probably say 'Merde!' and go back to sleep. That is a legitimate concern of musicologists, music historians, and journalists, and it's a convenient way of referring to me, Riley, Glass, La Monte Young[...] it's become the dominant style. But, anybody who's interested in French Impressionism is interested in how different Debussy and Ravel and Satie are—and ditto for what's called minimalism. [...] Basically, those kind of words are taken from painting and sculpture, and applied to musicians who composed at the same period as that painting and sculpture was made [...].

—From an Interview with Rebecca Y. Kim, 2000

Carving the path for minimalism, or maybe just a niche?

So I sat down over vacation to do the assigned listening pieces for the blog; I was shocked by the vocal pieces by Joan LaBarbera, the spoken "I am sitting in a room", and by most of the music in general. Then I reached James Tenney's Chromatic Canon...

Now let it be known that I love, love, love minimalist music. I may or may not be listening to Reich right now as I right this. And as soon as I heard Tenney's piece, my ears and brian instantly snapped into the mindset I enter when I listen to minimalist works. There was such an astounding difference to me between this piece and the others, but I couldn't quite pin the reason why, what or how this was different.

Was in the instrumentation? 2 pianos, acoustic. Well, of course this is certainly different than spoken word or voice, or the early tape music of Oliveros, etc. Yet even if Chromatic Canon had been performed on electric organ, for example, like is often utilized in Glass and Reich, I would still feel compelled to associate it with minimalism.

How about the form? Well Tenney's use of "process" as Gann discusses is what also made me think of minimalism in the first place; a small amount of material undergoing a process or journey in a very organic fashion. Tenney does not ensure or desire a "rhetorical process" in form (ex. Wow the recapituation should happen in about 10 measures, oh there it is! Silly Haydn).

So I went on a little James Tenney binge, reading about his work at Bell laboratories and his work with sound perception and how his works reflected it. I listened to For Ann (rising) about four times before my ears started to hurt, but I could even see the pre-minimalist influences here. Wanting the audience to perceive an overall arch and growth of line, yet also playing on the notion that we will adjust to and recognize the small shifts in the music as well; is an idea that I could see being applied to many of my favorite minimalist works.




It is important to keep in mind Tenney was working at the same time as minimalism's heroes, Philip Glass and Steve Reich (not to exclude all my other favorites), but Tenney remains largely in the shadow and probably really isn't considered minimalist in most circles. I don't think, however, it is a coincidence that Tenney was one of the four performers in Steve Reich's Pendulum Music in 1969.

I definitely see myself investigating a little more into James Tenney's works and compositional style. At one point Gann says of a piece circa 1990 that "Tenney gradually brings about evolutions of melodic contour and tonality within a generally postminimalist tonal language" (Gann, 169).

Whoa wait, when did we get to post minimalism? I'm going to leave that for the later blogs on minimalism :)

Not being particularly aware or familiar with this particular work of John Cage, HPSCHD was something I was able to bring a fairly fresh perspective and clean slate to while I read the article. I read and read and read until I was blue in the face, then I LISTENED to the piece. Oops.

I will first address one of the primary passages I noted in the article. Heimbecker states that "As a theater piece it did not tell the story of one "great hero", but created the space for a number of individual narratives not necessarily based on stable language connections, and not necessarily communicable(!)"

The general sentiment of the passage and its context appears to assert that many tend to place a narrative perspective on the piece, both due to it's political implications, as well as the space and time traits of it. Yet Cage insists that HPSCHD is an experiential learning and type of piece, in which listeners will discard predetermined notions and the audience may move freely. Cage also 'does away' with the traditional definition of "symbols" that we all yearn for, insisting that symbols are not filled with a deeper meaning, but works of art, such as his piece are simply "An action which is implicitly nothing."

Then I listened to it. And I can guarantee that listening to it this late at night was not a great idea. If music could be applicable to those "Well, you had to be there..." jokes, this is one of them. Johnny Cage, I had to be there.

I have been thinking long and hard about the assignment of creating a 'found' instrument. As the sole wind instrument player in my group, I feel obligated (but also fortunate!) with the task of incorperating some type of aerophone into our ensemble of recycled materials.

First I struggled: What can you hit or strike? Pretty much anything. But can you incorporate air into a lot of the same materials as well? Yes!
Surely blowing on a cinderblock won't achieve a certain and unique timbre, but I needed to find something new. I could have spent hours blowing atop all sorts of bottles, cans, but doesn't everyone do that?
As of yet, I'm still pursuing the instrument(s) that will work.
The toughest part on developing notation is that our instruments are not completely finalized, and therefore I have trouble settling on which type of notation I see fit. If the instrument is suited to a particular timbre, perhaps using color to notate it would be more accurate than using a shape! I would also like to experiment with the use of vocalization while writing. Whether it is droning (ex. represented by a stagnant thin line) or perhaps in a percussive manner (Written as a syllable and then altered to show its development).

Meanwhile, I took to heart the comment about Earle Brown's investigation as to what "classical musicians can't improvise", through the use of studying the "dynamic aesthetics" of Jackson Pollack and Alexander Calder. Naturally, I saw the connections in the improvisatory style of Pollack, but I knew it could be taken a step further. I wanted to pick one of my favorite artists and exploit and certain style that could influence notation and performance.
I picked Marc Chagall. I know and acknowledge he is widely viewed as an early modernist and known for his Jewish influence, but I appreciated most his use of different mediums. He was best known for his work with paintings, naturally, but has done a huge range of works on other materials such as tapestry, stained glass and ceramics.
The use of different materials can be used as inspiration as to different timbres or instrumentation. The art itself and influence the notation. There is also typically a common thread of religion that can be used or abandoned as the piece may see fit. For example, his ceramic piece "Moses" compared to the many church stained glass pieces he completed, as well as a plethora of Jewish-influenced paintings.
I don't know exactly what role this experimentation will play on my instruments and pieces, but the connection to art, even one that is not overtly modernist or indeterminate, I feel is important regardless.

I hate the word AESTHETIC.

I really latched on to the reading by Morton Feldman as soon as he used the word "aesthetic". In relation to new composers emerging at the time of this interview, 1964, Feldman denounces many peers as "revisionists", simply and endlessly going on a crusade for political reasons behind their composition, yet denying the aesthetic.

"Remember that 'revisionists' do not see chance as an aesthetic. They see it as a process they must "humanize" and present in a very portentous technical fashion. This is, of course, done without aesthetic goals in mind."

The issue I take with this is almost as simple as the nomenclature that Feldman chooses. (I'll explain in a minute!) Later, he speaks about why music is stuck running in place: "The reason music is ailing is because everyone is still following the same historical process..."

Of course I agree with you, Morton! Music is stuck in place with every new performance of Beethoven 5 each year (no worries, I love Beethoven 5). However, many young composers likely do feel the need to adapt to this mold (in which tonality, non-chance procedures, etc.) for many reasons; financial and employment security, popularity, the list would go on and on.
Yet I think audience's perception of aesthetic is one of the most prevailing reasons that music is still being held back. If people walked out of Lincoln Center humming and buzzing about a new piece by Thomas Adès, instead of simply saying "Well it was a nice opener, but I don't really remember liking it", perhaps we might be on the right track. But all too often, Adès and his composer comrades are not exactly the aesthetic that audiences look for.

I even see this in my close friends; After class last week I went up to them, very excited about our discussion about Babbitt and showed them a page from a score. The conversation lasted about 1 minute, and went exactly like this:

Me: "Guys, look how crazy these rhythms are! I would have to spend so much time working out these nested rhythms before even attempting to play this. So mathematical!"
Friend x: "Looks like saxophone music to me, haha!" [the piece was for clarinet]
Me: "Well did you know Babbitt had no real concern for his audience? He was a pretty ego-centric dude and felt his music was so advanced that the audience couldn't appreciate it anyway"
Friend x: "Alyssa, that's how all twentieth century music is. They don't care about anyone." (Walks away)

Friend y: "Well he's kinda right, generally that's how a lot of that a tonal music is and how the composers felt".

Cue: My jaw hitting the floor, walking away defeated and flabbergasted.
End scene

______

I'm kind of ashamed that these musician friends actually have generalized over 110 years of music into a single group, and openly admit that they have no care for their audiences.
And I have thought about it non-stop since last week: Why do they feel this way? Is it because they have learned in such an "academic" way, just like Feldman denounced? Is it because they have not had the proper education? I don't think these are any of the answers, but all I could focus upon was that they could read, understand and perform this music, but simply wanted something a little more singable.

So why do I hate the word aesthetic? Because it's vague, meaningless and an opportunity to 'cop out' when you're trying to decide exactly why you don't like that piece by Cage or Babbitt (e.g."Oh well I can't really appreciate the aesthetic...") Feldman uses it to characterize the new movement of chance music beginning since the 50's, while simultaneously denouncing the work of new composers that does not accept willingly these new and radical aesthetics that the "New York School" was creating (also a vague term, as Feldman notes). Yet composers will and have become successful more radical and less revisionists; now we need to work on the audiences and performers.

When attempting to relate John Cage to other musicians and artists that may have been influenced by his thoughts, composition and music of chance. The first artist that immediately came to mind was Jackson Pollack.

A couple months ago I had the absolute pleasure of going to MoMA in New York (I say this entirely seriously; I love MoMA). Starting from the top floor down, my boyfriend and I perused the works starting chronologically. Around floor 7 of 8 we encountered none other than Jackson Pollack. Prior to this I had tried my best explaining to him a little art history and it seemed to help latch on to a rather unfamiliar medium for him. When Pollack came up, he pleaded "Alyssa, what the hell does this even mean?", and I was speechless. I didn't know what to say to describe Pollack's works, other than I knew they were typically completed using the 'drip' method, a technique that is very chance related.

So upon looking into Mr. Pollack's works, I found a quote from an interview with the artist, describing how he goes about 'composing' his works:

"My painting does not come from the easel. I prefer to tack the unstretched canvas to the hard wall or the floor. I need the resistance of a hard surface. On the floor I am more at ease. I feel nearer, more part of the painting, since this way I can walk around it, work from the four sides and literally be in the painting.......When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. It is only after a sort of 'get acquainted' period that I see what I have been about. I have no fear of making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well."

I saw the importance of his frame of mind similar to that of a performer working on the music of Cage. When performing Cage, you are not fully aware of every sound or silence that occurs until you become more acquainted with the music and truly allow yourself to "live in" it. This can be also true of any piece of music really, but often such care in performance is dismissed quickly.

More important, at least in this story, is the audience's role in the music or artwork. Pollack gave his works traditional names, but gave up this practice in favor of a simple numbering system. He said he wished the audience to,"...look passively and try to receive what the painting has to offer and not bring a subject matter or preconceived idea of what they are to be looking for."
Perhaps those who have trouble appreciating art like Pollack's or music like Cage's bring a certain expectation to viewing and listening...and that expectation is, ironically, that there should be an expectation for the audience in the first place! (Read that aloud to assist in syntax, it sounds so strange!). Much like my experience at MoMA, he was trying to fit Pollack's painting into a framework of familiarity, just how the artist would not like it!

Another short point I found ironic was that Pollack favored numbering to allow the art to speak for itself to the all-important audience, but rather a self-centered egomaniac like Babbitt felt there was so much meaning in a title and often gave descriptive titles that were allegedly supposed to evoke the piece ("The Joy of More Sextets, Sheer Pluck", etc.). Even though Babbitt didn't consider his audience to be of any importance, he still went through the process of picking evocative titles. Yes, it draws me in, but does it allow the listener to form their own framework of the music?" Luckily I don't feel as though Cage succumbs to the "catchy title train" and therefore allows the music to speak for itself far more than with a contrived title.

I will leave you with Pollack's painting, "No. 5 (1948)".



I won't tell you what I see; wouldn't want to give you any kind of pre-concieved notions!

When I was 16 I decided that it would be my life's journey and purpose to become an advocate for new music. When you're in high school and the most advanced repertoire you'd conquered is the Mozart Clarinet Concerto, there's a lot of room to grow into.

I began my process by searching for books by contemporary composers on Amazon.com and using my parent's credit card to purchase "Silence", by John Cage. I opened the package with glee to find a fresh new perspective on music, and to begin my journey towards being a hyper-educated music snob. I read the first three pages: "Why does this guy use so many spaces? What kind of format is this? This is really like a stream-of-conciousness".

Well, young Alyssa, you didn't know anything about Cage, his music, or perhaps most importantly his influence on music to come. So in the same naive fashion, I recently did a google search in an effort to seek out other art forms that had been inspired, whether directly or indirectly by Cage. To my luck, I stumbled upon the website Art by Chance, in which they host a festival of "ultra short films". These films, usually less than 45 seconds, embrace a central theme; for 2011 it was "Change". I perused several of these films in search of how the "chance" factor influences their ultra short time frame.

I'd like to highlight two of the films that appear highly influenced by Cage's work.
First, Bulgarian director Dimo Petrov Trifonov created the ultra short film "Primitive (Love)" about “Primitive shapes represent the feeling of love with motion.” I felt this strongly correlated with Cage's dedication to Zen Buddhism, as well as his studies of music of eastern cultures (ex. India). This video represents primal looking shapes that appear to fuse with it's opposite shape. I could see this as a genuine melting of eastern and western music, or the eastern influence on Cage's music.

ARTBYCHANCE2011 - Primitive (Love) from ART BY CHANCE on Vimeo.

The Second video, Nina Peter from Germany presents a portrait of a shirt falling out of a tall apartment window, and documents its flight in the film "Breathe In/Out?". The unedited/doctored film shows the shirt breath. What truly made a huge connection to cage was Peter's description “In a dance-like movement, a shirt falls from a 4th-floor window - and, finally lying on the ground, begins to "breathe". There is no sound - the sound of one's own breathing becomes the soundtrack while watching.”
While the audience and viewers essentially become the backdrop of this ultra short film is completely created music of chance and the silence and breathing is very Cage-eqsue to me. You decide for yourself:

ARTBYCHANCE2011 - Breathe In / Out from ART BY CHANCE on Vimeo.

What was he thinking? Music as Machine

We discussed last week how the not-so-late Karlheinz Stockhausen was interviewed as calling the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center as "art" or "beauty".

I couldn't shake this from my mind as I read the articles and readings over the weekend, and noticed a slight mention in Gann's chapter about the reception of Milton Babbitt's music, and just how he felt about it.

Gann glazes over the article published by Babbitt in 1959 called "Who Cares If You Listen?", saying that the article was often taken out of context and may have done more hurt to Babbitt's career than he could recover from. I was somewhat shocked to read that Babbitt did not consider that not only his music, but music in general had the ability to communicate emotionally with an audience or performer. As an advocate for atonal, serialist, and most new works in general, I was truly disappointed. Why? I feel as though connecting these rarer and newer works to the audience on an emotional level is the biggest tool that composers and performers have to create an effective, memorable and learning performance experience. But that's just my opinion; back to Babbitt.

So Babbitt is both a mathematician and a musician, yes? Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive? We are getting in to some dangerous territory here, looking to define either field, but it's not totally necessary. When I read "Who Cares If You Listen", I did not at all sense that Babbitt was apathetic towards his music, or felt strongly that it didn't have emotional worth. What I brought away from his writings was this:
Math, science and technology progress, and it is expected, assumed and normal for this to occur. Music and composition, however, is stuck in a gear around the turn of the century, and resists moving forward into the new techniques and developments.

Babbitt's main tenants of the issue are as follows:
Efficiency: The new language of serialist (or even other 20th century techniques) composers is far more efficient, not necessary in length or number of 'notes', but in it's lack of redundant repetition, and the availability of new sounds that prevents said redundancy.

Dimensions: the new vocabulary allows new relationships between pitches and also allows pitches to function in entirely new ways that were once 'taboo'. This also makes scores far more detailed and precise for the performer, often resulting in a difficult performance if all and full attention is paid to composer's choices.

This-is-just-an-extension-of-the-old: This idea is quite Schoenbergian in it's thought that serial and atonal techniques are simply evolution, not revolution. If anything the 'revolution' are the techniques in which theorists and scholars have implemented to study this new music. Yet 'new' music is still seen as a deviation of tradition and thus the extended branch from tradition into the 20th century is severed.

Just as machines evolve, so does music. If we were to use the same refrigerators from a century ago, I'm certain we would not be content with the temperature of our milk. So if your musical tastes and understanding are going to be stuck in the era where women can't vote, Who Cares If You Listen to Milton Babbitt.

Does beauty lie in the familiar?

I began reading the article The Abuse of Beauty by taking the author's statements and attempting to make correlations between music and his broader descriptions of beauty in art in general. After a few pages, it was very clear that I should not pigeon hole the text in such a way, but rather allow the author's opinions of the evolution of the definition of art and beauty's role in said definition. (It is also difficult to carry on keeping yourself in one musical-minded frame throughout 23 dense pages!)

It was not until I read a few pages in about human's own insecurities about new and seemingly "avant-garde" techniques in art that make them chastise it for being crude or ugly. "Fry blamed ignorance and unfamiliarity...we will usually apply the word beautiful to those works of art in which familiarity has enabled us to grasp the unity easily."

FAMILIARITY. Buzzword! Collect $200 dollars.

This sent me thinking all the way back to the first days and blogs of the semester, in which we attempted to define what is "Avant-Garde". A large component of personal definitions includes one's own unique environment and pre-disposed experiences that is brought forth when they experience new things. If someone is educated on a more contemporary issue, art form, or musical style, they will know how to appreciate it. Danto states: "I draw attention to the a priori view that the painting in question really was beautiful, if only viewers knew how to look at it".
Without the "aesthetic education" (or for our purposes, musical education), new works can be perceived as confusing, scary, or, god forbid, unfamiliar.

A second point I thought was both thought provoking as well as quite applicable to other disciplines was the intersection of beauty and culture. I wasn't able to put this into a true cultural context until the excerpt: "The point was not to stand in front of the church and gape at its ornamentation, but to enter the church, the beauty being the bait as it so often is in entering into sexual relationships".

The emphasis on beauty and physical attraction is widely debated and protested, especially among women's groups (It's what is on the inside that counts, girls!)
But now I challenge you to google image search for BEAUTY. (Hmm, I thought that word was supposed to be associated with art?) The results?

Not a single image that is not of a female, typically scantily clad or made up in a doll-like fashion. Granted, I will acknolwedge that this little experiment is kind of in a vacuum (and Google searches may not be the most reliable search for looking into beauty in art). However, I think it speaks volumes about what cultures perceive as beautiful (God Bless the USA?)

How does this relate to music? Well if our culture doesn't value Tuvan throat singing, I would be hard pressed to find a group on mildly music educated adults who fall in love with this unique music from wildly different culture. What I mean by this is that If we are ignorant or unaware of other cultural norms and values in music, we cannot dare to call it 'ugly' or uninteresting because we don't appreciate the aesthetic; anything is possible.

Johnston; a Schenker pedigree?

I was very involved in the article by Ben Johnston, Maximum Clarity, and it's insight into links between traditional and modern music with a specific emphasis on intonation.
I especially liked the first analogy to a lens coming into focus, just as true performance comes into focus as intonation becomes exact. I was hoping that this article wouldn't solely focus on the micro-level of intonation, and I was pleased.

Being the theory-minded student that I am, I first was hooked by Johnston's musical "time-scales": Macro-time, normal-time, micro-time. This sparked the thought in my mind: how could this potentially relate to Heinrich Schenker's method of analysis? A major tenant of Schenker's theory is the evidence of appropriate Background, middle-ground and foreground. As Johnston describes, these musical levels in both theories are similar in terms of organized pitches, a second layer of rhythmic ideas and a final layer of small nuances.

Second, Johnston gives an example meant to demonstrate the significance of tonality by describing the drone in traditional Indian music. He connects it to Western music by saying "The tonic in Western music is our nearest equivalent to the drone, but it is not overtly and constantly present, so its function in bringing meaning to all other tonal events is mediated by the network of tonal relationships that make up the fabric of the music, and the tonic serves a s both a point of departure (home) and also as a goal, even if not achieved" I see this as applied to Schenkerian theory as the emphasis on the outermost "form" of music, and how music doesn't ever fully modulate or stray from the tonic (in traditional Western music). The tonic is persistent throughout a Schenker analysis, even if not always present or consistent.

A final similarity is the difference between patters, sequences and repetitions. Johnston notes that a sequence "travels", what Schenker would describe as "Zug" (e.g. quart-zug, 4th sequence)whereas a repetition is static. Schenker did not 'overanalyze' repetitions and take them for significant changes when they are truly static. He did however, acknowledge the importance of sequences, Zug, to allow composition to get from one place to another, still all within the realm of tonic.

A caveat of this comparison is that Schenker's theory was not meant to be applied to contemporary or atonal music by any means (A little elitist I might say, but those were the times!) Yet Johnston begins to apply his theories of 3 levels of music, (just) intonation and tonality to other pieces in contemporary or Avant Garde repertoire. He mentions Harry Partch, who devised his own almost-orchestra full of uniquely tuned instruments. The other caveat I take with the obsession over intonation: will these systems ever take? I find it impossible to believe that someday an ensemble will undertake the choice to decipher Partch's notation (despite the program notes he gives), reinvent the instruments, and perform or record his music? Don't get me wrong, the guy was inventive, cutting-edge and unique, but I have no real intention of creating a Eucal Blossom to perform Avant Garde music on. For a complete list of instruments, if you're feeling particularly ambitious and enjoy working with your hands, check out Harry's fun little orchestra

America's greatest failure: our composers in the limelight

It was an almost strange sensation of familiarity as soon as I saw the section on Aaron Copland headlining one in part of chapter 3 in Gann's book. Somehow the music in this chapter (Populists - 1930's) was both familiar and regrettably unknown.

All see Copland as the quintessential American composer. If you haven't listened to any excerpts from Music for Theater before the culmination of your 5th grade music education, that might be a sincere issue for that music educator. But I digress; I was not shocked to realize how Copland evolved over his long compositional career, taking on an almost serial technique in pieces like Connotations, or utilizing an eleven-tone row. Once you set yourself up for musical success, no popular audience is going to want to sit down in a concert hall and hear pseudo-serialist music when it's preceded by Fanfare for the Common Man.

More important, are the lesser known American composers whose works failed to endure the test of time and survive decades as "quintessential American music". Roy Harris was to be hailed as the great American Symphonist. Now, amateurs and young professionals alike may not have even heard of him, nevermind his works and compositional style. What happened to Elie Siegmeister (a name that was entirely unfamiliar to me until reading this chapter)? David Diamond? It makes me feel uncomfortable as a musician and American that I've never heard of these people.
How did they come to fame in the first place? For some, it was location, location location, just as we discussed regarding Ives and New England Composers. Copland was from New York, a prime location for fertile musical development. Virgil Thomson was from Missouri, of all places, but was lucky enough to be loaned the support to go to Harvard (because we all know not much was going on in Missouri while Thomson was a young lad...)

Yet location can't be all of it; So what went wrong?

Was it the depression? When the market crashed, so did all or most of any kind of disposable income that could be used for arts, music, entertainment or patronage of these fine arts. And of course you can't discount the financial, emotional and physical toll the crash had on individuals and families in general.

Was it a change in American musical standards? Perhaps at the time of composition and/or success, these composers embodied the American ideals, but this in no way would stay constant in the coming centuries. This theory is discounted by the success of Copland, Gershwin and countless other jazz and classical musicians.

I've battled with a few other ideas: cultural boundaries, race or gender issues (e.g. William Grant Still or Ruth Crawford), socio-economic factors and the whole gamut of financial reasons a composer might struggle.

So I guess the jury is still out...Why exactly do the works some American composers still survive and thrive in the current decade, but other, equally important composers fade into the chapters of a music history textbook?

Cowell, Varèse and the overtone series

When embarking upon the readings for this weekend, I read the articles in a seemingly strange order, but became very revealing by the end of the saga. Henry Cowell's article appeared a little to vague at first, although I do not believe his objective was to be specific about new music. Varese had a different outlook, but was more specific about his purpose and means behind his composition. Kyle Gann's chapter was very summative of all three, making sense of their compositions in a general and historical way.

I began with Cowell's article, New Music Resources, and was struck by the overwhelming idea which he presented: going back as far as the overtone series as a resource for creating the new wave of 20th century techniques.
Cowell didn't curb to the enormous pressure to "break away from tradition", but rather emphasized using 'new resources' and noise-making devices to create new music. This is why I found his emphasis on the overtone series quite ironic and striking. Does he insist that we have been neglecting or concealing the very nature by which all sounds come from in our many traditional forms of music?
Clearly from his compositional style, he did not acknowledge, blatantly reference traditional forms of the past, but that was not the point of the article.

Varese, on the other hand, developed a much more clear argument about breaking from tradition and developing one's own musical language. The dulcet pianissimo of a violin is no longer the 'norm' in music moving forward; Varese felt free enough to use new access of new sounds and technology available to him to create his musical language. In his article, he stressed the importance of music as an art-science, which I think is a wonderful description of 20th century music moving forward into the century. Technology and scientific development is a massive part of our growing musical culture, whether we like it or not, and as responsible musicians who want to further musical opportunities in the future need to acknowledge that.

With this in mind, it is pretty unbelievable that orchestras exist playing centuries old instruments, performing music written entirely by dead guys. If this case was true of other technologies or arts, we would still be using phones invented by Alexander Graham Bell himself, and riding model T's down an unpaved road.
As a quote in the Gann alluded to, Varese was not "ahead" of his time, everyone else was simply behind.
Clearly, his music supports this progressive style, reflected in the more extreme pieces such as Poeme electronique, whereas I see Hyperism as more of a reflection towards the tradition.
I honestly feel badly that Varese's music is underappreciated, and as Gann referenced, he is regarded as largely a "nihilist" composer. While he understood that his art-science music would not be accepted by all, there were still too many listeners rooted in the past. After all, who wouldn't want to snuggle up with a good book and listen to music written by this handsome man?
The idea that music is composed for personal enjoyment only can almost be stretched back to Ives' point of view, where he was grateful and appreciative of any few performances of his pieces given. The Brussells fair was a great step for Varese and his music, unfortunately it didn't step others into his current state of music that is both art and science.

I sat in an airport reading Kyle Gann's first chapter about the "forefathers" of twentieth century American music and I paused to think about my original concept of whom the first American composers were. I have always prided myself on listening and loving music with an open mind, often favoring more obscure 20th century classics that Mozart-lovers would rather use the score as toilet paper.

Yet, I couldn't bring a definition to the first uniquely American music. I had no idea, as Gann emphasized so well, that most composers considered "American" in the early part of the century had studied in Europe, either in the German 'classic' style or less often the French schools. Being a true and dedicated resident of Connecticut (about 15 mins. from his birthplace in Danbury), I knew the history of Charles Ives fairly well, and was relieved to confirm that he was indeed one of the first American composers that had neglected the European way and never stopped once to study anything but American composition.

I then took a moment to listen to Three Places in New England, focusing primarily on the first movement. It didn't stand out to me because of unique musical aspects, but because of the title of the first movement, "The 'St.-Gaudens' in the Boston Common (Col. Shaw and his Colored Regiment). Of course the other two movements are related to specific locations, but this movement depicts, to me at least, an actual person, Col. Shaw and an event. Col. Shaw's regiment was the first all-black group to join the Civil War. Ives used plenty of music sampling in this piece, which was superficially evident in the folk-tune aesthetic presented here in this mournful march. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a Civil War song scholar, so I looked up the sampled material, which consisted of many slave tunes and folk songs from the time. There is also sampling in the song "The Things Our Fathers Loved", with one particularly obvious quotation of Amazing Grace.

The use of this period "popular music" circa the Civil War era made me think: What was actually considered to be the first uniquely American popular music? First I assumed some type of jazz, tin-pan alley, or swing music; but it turns out, the ever resourceful Wikipedia page on American Popular Music cites the beginning of popular music with African Americans in the 19th century. Many would assume Stephen Foster's songs or "blackface" minstrel shows, but they were often falsely dubbed in the "African-American style".


In summation, what I'm really trying to say is we cannot discount the immense influence of African American culture on both American popular music, and even here, as Ives pays homage to a memorial that celebrates and honors the first black regiment.

Aside from the Ives, I was also particularly taken by the Griffes piece. I am slightly familiar with White Peacock and recognized musical aspects of it as broken down in Gann's guided listening, and was easily able to relate the impressionist style. I surprised to hear that this hallmark of Griffes writing was not carried over as deeply in other American's composers styles. I also found the relationship of Griffes compositional study in Berlin slightly ironic. He had studied with in Germany much like the other so-called American composers (Paine, etc.), but had developed this Debussy-esque impressionist style.

In "The Fountains of the Acqua Paola" I could clearly hear the links to the famous french composer, from pentatonic harmonies and scales, to the abundant use of chromatic and diatonic planing of chords and melodies. One thing that was not as clear was the rhythmic choices. They were significantly more syncopated and rhythmic than what would be expected from traditional European impressionist music (or at least what *I* would expect, for whatever weight that holds). Then I thought, how could this unique rhythm be tied to the beginnings of American popular music? The beginning of "Acqua Paola" has a certain swing to it, as if it was some kind of iambic meter: this swing makes complete sense, as Griffes never did travel to Rome to bear witness to these fountains and Roman scenes, he was inspired by a Scottish Poet. The other syncopations can be allusions to the foundations of jazz and swing, as well as folk songs and tunes, such as those used by Ives in "Three Places...".

Finding these different connections across a broad range of composers, music, and even disciplines gave me a new insight into what these new American composers were experiencing, as well as why they wrote the music they did. I can't help feel the smallest bit of patriotism oozing out of me when I listen to this music, being proud of the foundations of truly American music.

Oh, and I'll have to spend a little more time with Carl Ruggles. As many times as I listened to Sun-treader I will need at least another few listenings to make any kind of educated guess as to what is going on. At best, I am using Gann's description of the little old man to influence each listening of the piece, watching for the hallmarks of his chromatic and meticulous style. More on that later, though.

The mere fact that it took me longer to think of a title of this blog than actually write this post should mean that the title holds some drop of meaning, right?

I'm not sure, yet. I stumbled upon the name I used for the url while reading the blog Hellmouth, written by minimalist composer John Adams, one of my favorite living composers. http://www.earbox.com/posts/107 He was speaking about how life moves so quickly now, with ever progressing technology and busy lives, that it takes such a giant and pivotal moment in music to truly stop a person, or listener, in their tracks.

Today we discussed how all of us, both as musicians but also on the larger scale as "citizens of the world" (or some other grand synonym), bring experiences and expectations to everything we do. In music, when something defies our pre conceived notions, we experience a sensation of shock as well as recognition, then we are able to weave this new material in with the old and make connections.

Perhaps something that is considered 'Avant Garde', (that being art, film, music, culture, etc.) will contribute to a growing set of expectations for a particular person. If this person begins to immerse themselves in say, Avant Garde music, will their new perspective change their personal definition of Avant Garde? If Avant Garde represents a "pushing of boundaries of what is accepted as the norm" as Wikipedia so vaguely explains, isn't this individual have a new set of boundaries?
It would then be impossible to define Avant Garde, as there is a necessity and assumption of a set of norms, which would fluctuate far too often. On the other side of this exists the 'norm' of music, which we haven't applied a large scale definition to. Classical is too broad, but does "Traditional" leave too much to be assumed (Sure, Mozart is traditional, but are we really going to put him in the same category as Mahler?). I think subconsciously we're realized, thankfully, that it's nearly impossible to fit 4+centuries of music into a single overarching term. Just as Avant Garde changes constantly as expectations change, the rest must change as well.

As for experimental music, the definitions that attempt to contrast it against its Avant Garde siblings are diverse. I much prefer Cage's ideas, which explain experimental music as "music with no foreseeable outcome"; but in this case, I prefer the name 'music of chance'. Using this name more commonly, I feel, would clarify it from the electronic, minimalist, improvisatory, etc. genres which are associated with it. To group 'chance music' and minimalist music in the same arc would assume that Minimalist composers had no thought in mind to the result and outcome of their pieces, which is certainly not true. Does Adams, as seen in this video, look like he's leaving anything in his piece up to 'chance'?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCfPkMAZ4jk&feature=related

Often nomenclature of music can get in our way; forcing genres and sub-genres of music, like experimental and Avant Garde, into camps in which they are not meant to be thrown into. At the end of the day, I don't care what I call it, I just want to listen.