My Mind Is Kissin' You

Today was one of those funny days in which you cannot and should not take anything too seriously. I played rockband over the weekend, so this song's been stuck in my head all day. How can anyone take anything seriously with this stuck in their head? Seriously.

Aside from that, I found out my exam times for finals week. LAMESAUCE ON A CORN DOG. Every single class that's important to me (all my music classes) has its exam at 8am. I can barely wake up for my 8am classes, and I'm usually late. That week is going to be HORRIBLE. I'm gonna have to drink so much water to make up for all the caffeine I'll have in my system. At least my jury isn't early in the morning. That would suck.

Tonight's Homework D:

You might have noticed that I made a "rough draft" of an essay for music history in my blog. Well, I decided that it really helped me figure things out, so I'm doing it again with the development of the Italian madrigal.

Yeah...so pretty much after that whole chant to motet ordeal, music started heading in a pretty sick direction. In the 15th century, people were starting to question the Church a bit and start writing to appease the human ear. It was a "return to the values of antiquity," which was essentially returning to humanistic values. The uninelligability of the polyphonic music coming up to that point was getting pretty damn annoying because of that whole "more than one text at a time" business. It's like that Tide pen commercial. The stupid annoying stain kept talking and talking when the guy was answering questions in his interview. How rude! But they finally saw the light and decided to remove the stain and compose with just one text (though in more than one voice). There was a focus on understanding the text (what a novel concept), a movement that involved writing the music based on the text (Before, they would fit the text in "as best as [they could]") and eventually let to word painting, which I'll explain later.

One of the main guys who got this whole thing going was John Dunstable (yep! You guessed it. He's English). He had this crazy good motet tune called "Quan pulchra es," which was pretty graphic. He based the music ENTIRELY on the text, which is adapted from the Song of Solomon 7:4-12. The first half of the piece is basically describing the sexiness of some chick (sorry to all readers of the Old Testment btw for my lack of knowledge on the meaning/story in the original text). Then, the music stops. Having lured the woman, the speaker/singers simply say(s) "Veni," or "come." (Anyone remember the movie Waiting? Yeah, it's your basic "Come on...") Then he tells her what they're going to do, which is pretty much sex. What's most interesting about this piece is that it, first of all, treats the tenor as an equal. No more holding notes forever and chillin' all the time. Now they get to start working hard. Secondly, the piece is largely homophonic and the voices sing together in the mostly same rhythms.

Well, the thing about Dunstable is he's English. Nothing against the English, but in order for anything to happen you gotta get off the Isle. The important thing about that piece back there was that it was written in 1430, which was during the time he was in the service of Duke of Bedford and chillin' in France after the English pounded the French. What? France isn't on the Isle! It's on the continent. And it's hella (yes, I just said hella) close to...oh wait, it's in the Franco-Flemish region. Why is that significant? Because he's not surrounded by a freaking body of water, that's why! Alright, so the English are occupying France and Dunstable's music takes off. The people are like "wow! That's crazy awesome. Let's put it in French and call it a chanson." Even though they didn't call it that yet.

Then came some Franco-Flemish composers like Guillaume Dufay and his successors. He's most famous for his "Missa L'homme Arme," which is a parody mass (as funny as 15th cent. masses are NOT, a parody mass is just a mass based on a borrowed theme) based on a folk song called "L'homme Arme." All the movements are tied together by that theme, giving it the label of a cyclic mass. The deal with him was that, though he was Flemish, he did the much of his work in Italy serving under several Italian families.

Whoa! I bet you were wondering when Italy would be mentioned in an essay about the Italian madrigal. There it is. You know why those Franco-Flemish musicians liked Italy? Because they liked cash and that's where the cash was. (We can thank the Mediterranean Sea for that one because of its wonderful ability to transport merchants and supplies.) But hey, doesn't every musician like Italy? Yeah! Because Italy likes us.

Then, the 16th century happened! Eleven years after the invention of the printing press (thx Guttenberg!), Ottaviano Petrucci adapted it to music notation, making music easier and cheaper to publish. He published the "Odhecaton," a series of publications of polyphonic works. The issue with this printing method was that it used "triple-impression printing," a very long and laborious way to print the music. One mistake meant starting over. So in 1528, Pierre Attaingnant adapted the technology further by making a "single-impression" music printing press.

Because of Petrucci's printing press, a Flemish composer Josquin des Prez became the rockstar of his period. Many of his works were among those published in anthologies and sold as sheet music for amateur musicians. Everyone knew about him. Total badass, right? So if you want him to be in your service, he's gonna charge a lot and act like a douche. But it's worth it. The thing with him is that his music took that whole idea of applying the text to the music to the extreme. His later chansons, one in particular called "Mille Regretz," held a more homophonic quality than his early work, a quality which lended itself nicely to the sad text in "Mille Regretz." Another crazy thing is that it's through-composed, following no form, written beginning to end in that order. But wait, that wouldn't be a chanson then, would it? Here's where the new definition of a chanson plays in: the chanson, originally a work with a specific form and based on the trouvere tradition, became simply "a polyphonic work on a French secular text."

Well, you'd imagine that those Italian families would get tired of hearing masses & chansons in French, so composers started writing in "the mother language" of Italy: Italian. (Who'da thunk it?) And so the Italian madrigal was born. That's it. Madrigal (Italian) is just a word for chanson (French), which is just a word for motet (Latin). Yeah, annoying isn't it? Yeah, well Jacques Arcadelt took Josquin's style and applied it to the Italian madrigal. His "Il bianco e dolce cigno," about "dying," a nice little euphemism for sex. Then, Cipriano de Rore took the idea of the Petrarchan sonnet (if you have to ask, you can't afford it :P actually, it's just a 14-line poem with a specific rhyme scheme and rhythmic quality) and applied it to music. He also uses the text to dictate certain concepts in the music (and beautifully, I might add).

When the madrigal finished the cycle in England during the reign of Elizabeth, it flourished as a ballett (yeah, we changed languages to English, so it's time to change the name again). This is also when the whole "fa la la la la" crap showed up in music. You know why? English isn't Italian and no one wanted to translate the text. (Lazy bastards. Now I'm stuck with that crap in "Deck the Halls.") The whole composing according to the text thing took a ridiculous turn at this point and developed into a concept called word painting (basically a madrigalism, because it started in the madrigal). Basically if I say "up," the music goes up. If I say "all," every voice plays. If I say "alone," one voice plays. See how corny and exaggerated it gets? Yeah.

So ultimately, I love the Italian madrigal, specifically during the time of the late 15th century and early 16th century, because it just kicks ass. That's when the music meant something. Before that, it was too consonant and lacking in emotion. After that, it was too retardedly cheesy. But the development of it all is a very interesting process because of the cycle from England to France to Italy and back to England.

That is all, kill me now...for now I edit all the bullshit stuff I said out :D

Roughin' It

So I've got this journal essay to write for music history. I have no freaking clue where to start, so I'm gonna just try to talk about it here.

The aim is to demonstrate an understanding (which I've got, though it might be the wrong understanding) of the evolution and development of polyphony, starting with chant.

So, after the rather large milestone of accepting the consonance of the octave - as opposed to just unison - into Church chant, young boys and men sang same melody. But what about those perfect fourths and fifths?? Well, though the fourths weren't too loved later in the 16th century counterpoint (apparently they're dissonant - who knew?), in the 11th/12th centuries (yes, that's chronologically before the 16th century), the perfect fourth and fifth, started to be considered pretty consonant, and therefore chill with the masses (haha! masses...get it?). So then this whole "organum" thing (note vs. note / 1:1) came into play, especially with those fancy perfect intervals. Called "parallel organum," two voices moved parallel to one another, one singing the melody, the other singing in perfect intervals (P5 or P4) below the melody, thus creating a sense of harmony - or as I like to call it: Early Variations on the Power Chord. Of course, the thing with that is that the so-called "melody" isn't actually discernable through any other means than just the fact that it's the upper voice, so let's give it another name...hmm..how about "vox principalis?" That works. The principle voice was coupled by the "vox organalis," which, like I said before, is that voice that likes to chill at a perfect interval below the principalis.

The development of different variations of organum gave way to many contrapuntal techniques. Once all the types of motion (parallel, similar, oblique, and contrary) came onto the scene in FREE ORGANUM, there was a lot more FREEdom in harmony. (Well, you know, as free as you can be in the 12th century Catholic Church.) Free organum gave way for Florid (yay for Tenors/Tenere!) and Melismatic (yay for melismas/many-notes:1!) organum.

But shit! Here comes the Notre Dame School (which, btw, wasn't actually a school....it was just a crazy awesome group of composers who did crazy awesome shit with rhythmic modality). Leonin (compiler/composer of 'Magnus Liber Organi de Gradali et Antiphonario') and Perotin were a couple of cool cats who helped couple poetic rhythm with musical rhythm, creating the ever-awesome "rhythmic modes." And as much as I'd like to explain this whole thing...it's probably one of the more boring parts, so maybe I'll just touch on it like the teacher did :D Gotta love Parisian Organum.

The thing about the Notre Dame School that's super super important though, is the whole creation of the clausula thing. So, assuming you know what a clausula is, which I won't...so...FINE. I'll explain it: it's a section of organum where all the sections move together in accordance with the modes. Get it? Me neither. "The modes" are those rhythmic modes...like umm...6/8! Yeah that's what the fuck I'm talking about. Clausulas actually used that time signature a lot. There's this one clausula on page whatever it was (99?) in the Anthology that we listened to in class. It was crazy obnoxious, actually...then it got to the Alleluia! and pulled a D.C. al coda on our ass and suddenly sounded cool. What's pretty sweet about all this development is the addition of more voices, which eventually led to the concept of the MOTET! (Finally...I'm getting tired.) So all these voices (the duplum/motetus/vox organalis+text, tenor, etc.) freaking sing completely different freaking things and are completely impossible for a human person to understand unless he/she dissects each line individually. But God can understand all of it at once, so they figured "it's all good."


Now, all this is well and dandy...but, as a musician of the 21st century, I'm very okay with certain dissonances that would normally, in those days, not have been permitted (thank you overly strict clergymen). In fact, I (and this is apparently unusual even today) actually cherish those dissonances. They're raw and human and represent everything good and bad about our race. What's not to like? Listening to this music is surprisingly refreshing. Because I am not religious, I don't hear moral scriptures when I listen to these chants and motets. I hear everything about the time that they're placed in. I hear architecture and art and music of that time, as well as that which it is hinting at in the near future. I hear the common folks who you can't hear in the church while the monks sing. I hear all the crazy shit I learned in history. I can't get over how much I love this music. I mean, it's not dissonance, but it's still fucking gorgeous.

My Monday Night: A True Story

By Me, with a Hemingway spin <3

On a dark, cold night, an old man crosses a street. His street-crossing isn't particularly fast-paced. In fact, it's extremely sluggish and tired. He pushes a wheelchair as a crutch for practicing this walking thing. He's pretty focused on the walking thing. He's focused to the point of losing touch with his surroundings. By the time he reaches the midpoint of the journey across the street (and the first half takes a good few minutes as it is), he's really focused.

A silver Camry struts along toward the T-intersection across which the man snails. Inside, two ladies calmly chat about their days and their weeks and their futures and their presents and their pasts. A dark figure appears in the road. The driver reacts to the presence of the figure by bringing the car to a stop and waiting for the old man to cross. A few seconds later, it hits them.

A car hits them. The lady in the car didn't slow down, but she keeps saying that she saw the old man too. It's all her fault, she says. Here's my information, she says.

Here's ours, the two ladies say.

Here's the old man's information, the silver Camry's passenger says. He's a little gone. He was just out for a walk to practice walking. He just came from dinner with his family. He doesn't have an answering machine.

All ladies enter their cars and go on their way. The old man continues walking. The two ladies in the silver Camry go to Urgent Care to check their necks. The passenger is having neck, jaw, and head pain. The driver is too. The passenger of the silver Camry continues having minor neck, jaw, and head pain. Her arms hurt too and she can't lift heavy objects.

The next day, the insurance calls. The lady who hit them said she didn't know who's fault it was, they say. That figures, says the driver of the silver Camry.

Scales, Oh My!

Holy crap...I can't believe how many possibilities there are! I printed out this list of musical scales and it's pages and pages long. So beautiful. I'm going to play every single one and highlight the ones I dig :] Then I'll probably post them for any musicians out there (namely my best friend).

Hobbes

I forgot how wonderful a feeling I get when reading out of my Calvin & Hobbes books :)

Feed the Birds?

Nothing really does the job of making you feel all cozy and fuzzy inside except a good ol' Disney classic. Especially watching with good friends. It sucks not owning any movies (curse you, student life!)! I'm pretty much totally down for watching Mary Poppins (Julie Andrews, anyone?), The Little Mermaid, or Aladdin. They're pretty much my favorites (and Mulan! But that's not really a "classic" per say). So now I'm pretty much searching a site my coworker told about a while back that has movies on it. I doubt there will be any Disney...but let's hope. Help me hope!


My dreams have been dashed on this one. There are none.