Another soundscape, Spencer Topel’s Incendio is an image of fire. It is in three main segments, the inner representing embers against the flames of the outer two. Each segment has a series of sections that go by quickly, flaring and dying with shifting colors. You can listen to it for the rest of the week here.
Ignited by a sizzle cymbal solo, the first section introduces the dominant feature of the music, that of oscillating orchestral colors. The vibraphone stands out, but only as a first among equals; the texture is paramount. The trombones burst out and are punctuated with a bass drum thump. Then the trumpets and horns catch fire, with two short explosions from the orchestra, and the flame dies down a bit.
The second section features first the violins then cellos against a sparser accompaniment. It ends with the opening of the first section and the short explosions moved from the trombones to the tympani, and a longer flare from the sizzle cymbal (the cough is not in the score :-).
The oboes kindle the third section which is dominated by the horns, building to a passage featuring the English horn and clarinet. That clarinet imitates the opening sizzle cymbal solo to reprise the first section. A coda ends the first segment with the clarinet fading to nothing.
The embers segment is at a slower tempo. Pops of color with occasional little flare-ups lead to a brief re-ignition of flames in the middle that dies down to coals again. The sparkle of the tuned percussion send glowing embers dancing into the air. A deep bass pedal foreshadows the end of the segment where the entire orchestra bursts anew into flame with the gong playing the role of the sizzle cymbal.
The concluding segment is an abbreviated recapitulation, starting with the first section. The oboes and horns bring back the third section, with the English horn and clarinet passage leading to a coda where the fire fades and dies.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
The Hat, the Elephant, and the Snake
Kathryn Selfelder’s Dessin No. 1 takes its title from a drawing of an elephant inside a snake in the Little Prince, “which is the incarnation of the quote ‘One only sees well with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eyes’” [program note]. For the rest of this week, you can hear the Minnesota Orchestra’s performance at ClassicalMPR.
The work is dominated by the opening violin melody that is broken up and re-mixed in various forms and instrumentations, the entire work is derived from the opening melody. The first section has slowly oscillating tetrachords over which the melody is introduced by a solo violin and gradually transformed, first by the oboe and bassoon, then the violas and cellos. The transformation of the melody is continuous throughout the piece, using fragments of the melody in various permutations.
The second section is accompanied by lightly arpeggiated chords in the violins. The melodic metamorphosis is mostly augmentation of fragments, with a two note fragment (short-long) stepwise either ascending or descending, not unlike the grace note that the solo violin played at the beginning or the extension of the melody by the oboe in the first section, permeating the whole orchestra to a climax that ends with a octave string passage with brass accents.
The third section is quietly introduced by a descending fragment in the winds, then taken over by the strings with a violin solo singing the melody augmented. That descending wind fragment then reappears and is echoed by the brass. The descending fragment is inverted in the strings and winds until, in its descending form, it is blown clearly by the horns at the second climax. Over that horn call, the violins play the melody in a very augmented form, under which the violas and cellos bring back the arpeggios, reinforced by the winds.
The final section uses a seemingly new melody in the flute and clarinet that, to me, sounds like it is derived from the opening melody yet transformed like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, or a hat becomes an elephant in a snake. The oscillating tetrachords reappear as the accompaniment to balance the piece.
The work is dominated by the opening violin melody that is broken up and re-mixed in various forms and instrumentations, the entire work is derived from the opening melody. The first section has slowly oscillating tetrachords over which the melody is introduced by a solo violin and gradually transformed, first by the oboe and bassoon, then the violas and cellos. The transformation of the melody is continuous throughout the piece, using fragments of the melody in various permutations.
The second section is accompanied by lightly arpeggiated chords in the violins. The melodic metamorphosis is mostly augmentation of fragments, with a two note fragment (short-long) stepwise either ascending or descending, not unlike the grace note that the solo violin played at the beginning or the extension of the melody by the oboe in the first section, permeating the whole orchestra to a climax that ends with a octave string passage with brass accents.
The third section is quietly introduced by a descending fragment in the winds, then taken over by the strings with a violin solo singing the melody augmented. That descending wind fragment then reappears and is echoed by the brass. The descending fragment is inverted in the strings and winds until, in its descending form, it is blown clearly by the horns at the second climax. Over that horn call, the violins play the melody in a very augmented form, under which the violas and cellos bring back the arpeggios, reinforced by the winds.
The final section uses a seemingly new melody in the flute and clarinet that, to me, sounds like it is derived from the opening melody yet transformed like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, or a hat becomes an elephant in a snake. The oscillating tetrachords reappear as the accompaniment to balance the piece.
A Cinematic Soundscape of the Seasons
Two weeks ago, I had the privilege of attending, as an auditing backbencher, the Minnesota Orchestra Composer Institute, during which I had an opportunity to read through the scores of the seven composers, attend the rehearsals and the concert on Saturday night. That concert was recorded by Minnesota Public Radio and can be heard this week only on their website.
Angel Lam’s In Search of Seasons opened the concert. The piece is in four sections (one for each season) with a short narrative prologue. Deep chords by the piano and harp with low string pedal tones introduce winter, a timeless and contemplative season. Tuned gongs sound a chilled four-note motive. A single cello sings a mournful melody ornamented with glissandi and grace notes. A single violin answers sympathetically with a long, lyric line that, after one last echo of the tuned gong motive, is smoothly transformed into spring by a leaping solo cello.
A pizzicato violin gets time ticking. Bird-like twitters in the celesta, harp, and winds flutter over the solo cello and viola just before dawn. The sun bursts over the horizon on a sweeping violin line. All manner of swoopings up and down in the winds and strings bring spring to blossom then a quick close with a string glissandi and straight into summer.
A gentle gust of wind in the harp, oboe, and clarinet precedes summer’s motive: four notes outlining a minor third which is tossed among the percussion, harp, piano, and strings throughout the summer. The driving ticking of time reappears in the lower strings. Glittering figures in the marimba and vibraphone and short glissandi propel the season forward. Time accelerates with the bass and snare drum, and the high hat. Over this is a lyric yet energetic violin line, full of life, joy, and surprise, interspersed with the four-note summer motive. A small storm swirls up and dissipates. The heavy tread of time in the lower strings underlies an urban collision of rhythms as the long summer spins off into the distance.
Autumn arrives with sparkling, calming figures in the piano and harp and a solo violin melody reminiscent of the one in winter. This is quickly followed by the rustling and falling leaves propelled by gusts from the winds and harp, vibraphone and marimba. Over all is an almost wild lament by the violins, which calms to a single note in the flute and clarinet. The violin sings a tender farewell as the glitter of piano, harp, and vibraphone fades.
Angel Lam’s In Search of Seasons opened the concert. The piece is in four sections (one for each season) with a short narrative prologue. Deep chords by the piano and harp with low string pedal tones introduce winter, a timeless and contemplative season. Tuned gongs sound a chilled four-note motive. A single cello sings a mournful melody ornamented with glissandi and grace notes. A single violin answers sympathetically with a long, lyric line that, after one last echo of the tuned gong motive, is smoothly transformed into spring by a leaping solo cello.
A pizzicato violin gets time ticking. Bird-like twitters in the celesta, harp, and winds flutter over the solo cello and viola just before dawn. The sun bursts over the horizon on a sweeping violin line. All manner of swoopings up and down in the winds and strings bring spring to blossom then a quick close with a string glissandi and straight into summer.
A gentle gust of wind in the harp, oboe, and clarinet precedes summer’s motive: four notes outlining a minor third which is tossed among the percussion, harp, piano, and strings throughout the summer. The driving ticking of time reappears in the lower strings. Glittering figures in the marimba and vibraphone and short glissandi propel the season forward. Time accelerates with the bass and snare drum, and the high hat. Over this is a lyric yet energetic violin line, full of life, joy, and surprise, interspersed with the four-note summer motive. A small storm swirls up and dissipates. The heavy tread of time in the lower strings underlies an urban collision of rhythms as the long summer spins off into the distance.
Autumn arrives with sparkling, calming figures in the piano and harp and a solo violin melody reminiscent of the one in winter. This is quickly followed by the rustling and falling leaves propelled by gusts from the winds and harp, vibraphone and marimba. Over all is an almost wild lament by the violins, which calms to a single note in the flute and clarinet. The violin sings a tender farewell as the glitter of piano, harp, and vibraphone fades.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Finding the Forest
Working through Fux these past few days has taught me more about the technique of writing counterpoint, but that is a lesser problem standing in the way of completing “A Moral Little Tale”. I am confident that I can figure out the mechanics of good writing, contrapuntal or otherwise, as I go along, it is just a matter of learning the rules and guidelines, practicing them, and using them. The greater problem is figuring out and articulating how the expressive details of the piece will fit together to form a coherent whole that is both intelligible and appealing to a listener (which raises a related question: who is the intended audience?). I lack a vocabulary and analytical framework to guide me in creating that coherent whole.
The outline posted on August 8th is a technical framework: a list of roles and their assignment to voices, a division of the text in to 16 movements, a key structure for those movements, and a simple label describing the nature of each movement. The two paragraphs at the end of that post may be suitable for program notes, but have not helped me put the musical notes, measures, phrases, and chords into the larger whole. I’ve never been able to simply let the music flow out; if that talent exists, it is buried deep.
The posts that followed talked through the chord progressions, phrases, etc. but said nothing about why one phrase followed another, why a particular chord progression or key change, how those sequences and changes fit together to help the listener both understand and enjoy the music. There have been descriptions of bits of word painting, but they are isolated episodes. By the time I got to the counterpoint in the 2nd movement, I had no idea why I should be using counterpoint, other than to give the movement some length. Switching from the melody-harmony texture to counterpoint could be jarring, so why do it? That contributed more to the contrapuntal crackup described in the last post than an unfamiliarity with contrapuntal technique.
“A Moral Little Tale” has a coherent overall structure. Each piece fits together with the others in a specific manner to create the whole. If I can articulate the nature of the pieces and how they fit together, then I should be able to better understand how to fit together the musical pieces into a larger whole. A quick course in literary analysis would perhaps be helpful.
The outline posted on August 8th is a technical framework: a list of roles and their assignment to voices, a division of the text in to 16 movements, a key structure for those movements, and a simple label describing the nature of each movement. The two paragraphs at the end of that post may be suitable for program notes, but have not helped me put the musical notes, measures, phrases, and chords into the larger whole. I’ve never been able to simply let the music flow out; if that talent exists, it is buried deep.
The posts that followed talked through the chord progressions, phrases, etc. but said nothing about why one phrase followed another, why a particular chord progression or key change, how those sequences and changes fit together to help the listener both understand and enjoy the music. There have been descriptions of bits of word painting, but they are isolated episodes. By the time I got to the counterpoint in the 2nd movement, I had no idea why I should be using counterpoint, other than to give the movement some length. Switching from the melody-harmony texture to counterpoint could be jarring, so why do it? That contributed more to the contrapuntal crackup described in the last post than an unfamiliarity with contrapuntal technique.
“A Moral Little Tale” has a coherent overall structure. Each piece fits together with the others in a specific manner to create the whole. If I can articulate the nature of the pieces and how they fit together, then I should be able to better understand how to fit together the musical pieces into a larger whole. A quick course in literary analysis would perhaps be helpful.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Countrapuntal Crackup
The contrapuntal section of the second movement just wasn’t sounding clear to me. The notes were acceptable, but the words tended to collide with one another and would be indistinct to a listener. I set about reworking it. The first attempt cleared up the word collision, but suffered from flowing smoothly for a few beats (e.g., bars 1-2), then rushing and clunking (bar 3).
I threw that out and started again. This version cleared up the rushing and clunking in the first 8 bars, but got muddy in bars 8-11; the entrances were clunky again. Also, the back and forth aspect of the initial entrances (bars 2-4, 8-11) were not quite working either.
Out went that version. The third try was just a mess.
It finally dawned on me that the real problem was I don’t know enough of the fundamentals of counterpoint. So I’ll set aside “A Moral Little Tale” for a while and spend some time at the feet of Johann Joseph Fux.
I threw that out and started again. This version cleared up the rushing and clunking in the first 8 bars, but got muddy in bars 8-11; the entrances were clunky again. Also, the back and forth aspect of the initial entrances (bars 2-4, 8-11) were not quite working either.
Out went that version. The third try was just a mess.
It finally dawned on me that the real problem was I don’t know enough of the fundamentals of counterpoint. So I’ll set aside “A Moral Little Tale” for a while and spend some time at the feet of Johann Joseph Fux.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Filling In the Counterpoint
Calling the 2nd movement, starting in measure 20, fugal is a bit of a stretch. There is no consistent countersubject. This two bar phrase (below) serves as a substitute, appearing in different forms in the tenor, alto, and bass after their entrances, in bars 22 through 28.
The subsequent statements of the subject are also non-standard; the alto enters on the mediant rather than the dominant or sub-dominant, for example. The first episode (bars 24-25) does not, as is common in a fugue, modulate to another key, but leads to the bass entrance using the inverted subject.
The second episode (bars 30-31) follows the second alto statement of the subject and does modulate to the dominant (C major), where the tenors take the subject and extend the eighth-note run with the altos harmonizing a third above and modulating to G major.
A longer episode of four bars (36-39) leads back to C major and an entrance by the altos. The sopranos follow their statement of the subject with a new counter subject in bar 36 that is taken up by the basses in bar 38, slightly altered. The altos take the dotted-quarter eighth rhythm of the first counter subject and use it in bars 36 and 38.
The alto entrance in bar 40 is followed by the quarter note counter subject, again altered and also extended. Having modulated back to G major, the tenors state the subject in bar 42 with no counter subject.
The stretto section starts with the altos and contains no counterpoint beyond the overlapping of the subject statements. The final statement of the subject is done by all voices.
I’m not yet convinced that the counterpoint is the best setting for this segment of text. The text isn’t meditative in nature, but those that hold the viewpoint expressed tend to lean towards a meditative life, so the counterpoint could be said to illustrate them rather than the text itself. Following that line of construction, the next section should be dance-like, and not counterpoint.
The 2nd movement so far:
The subsequent statements of the subject are also non-standard; the alto enters on the mediant rather than the dominant or sub-dominant, for example. The first episode (bars 24-25) does not, as is common in a fugue, modulate to another key, but leads to the bass entrance using the inverted subject.
The second episode (bars 30-31) follows the second alto statement of the subject and does modulate to the dominant (C major), where the tenors take the subject and extend the eighth-note run with the altos harmonizing a third above and modulating to G major.
A longer episode of four bars (36-39) leads back to C major and an entrance by the altos. The sopranos follow their statement of the subject with a new counter subject in bar 36 that is taken up by the basses in bar 38, slightly altered. The altos take the dotted-quarter eighth rhythm of the first counter subject and use it in bars 36 and 38.
The alto entrance in bar 40 is followed by the quarter note counter subject, again altered and also extended. Having modulated back to G major, the tenors state the subject in bar 42 with no counter subject.
The stretto section starts with the altos and contains no counterpoint beyond the overlapping of the subject statements. The final statement of the subject is done by all voices.
I’m not yet convinced that the counterpoint is the best setting for this segment of text. The text isn’t meditative in nature, but those that hold the viewpoint expressed tend to lean towards a meditative life, so the counterpoint could be said to illustrate them rather than the text itself. Following that line of construction, the next section should be dance-like, and not counterpoint.
The 2nd movement so far:
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