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.