Tonality and Globalization

Another trip to Symphony Center in Chicago has raised another series of thoughts for the blogosphere...  One of the great advantages of live concerts for me is the opportunity to listen to music I wouldn't normally turn on for myself:

Last night's program featured three works: Debussy's Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, Esa-Pekka Salonen's new Violin Concerto, performed by Leila Josefowicz, and Sibelius's Symphony No.2.

I'll start with Salonen's work, since it is the inspiration for my title, and most musicological thoughts today.  Henry Cowell, among others, strove toward the creation of an international, or global, music - one that would not be defined by nationalist labels.  Often, I think, these nationalist labels are the result of the melodic content, with a supporting role played by the harmonies.  Other techniques play a role too, of course, and have for centuries (Mannheim Rockets for example).  However, what happens today in contemporary art music?  So often, and Salonen's violin concerto is an example, we get music that is infused with feelings and moods, but lacks any tunefulness.  Tonality is stripped away in favour of atmosphere.  My question then is this: has globalization of art music created this atuneful atonality, or is it a conscious effort on the part of the composer to be more global in their art?

The rest of what follows are my comments on the performance itself...

As for the concerto itself, I found it interesting... it certainly showcased the virtuosity of Josefowicz, and had enjoyable moments.  But, for me (as noted in other entries something of a conservative purist and idealist when it comes to musical taste), these moments weren't enough to hold together a 30+ minute piece.  The second movement was, perhaps, my favourite, and was very quick....  over almost before realizing it had begun.  The fourth movement was, for me, too long and didn't balance the overall for well enough.  So much emphasis in the program notes was put on the "surprising" last chord... really, it felt like a 21st-century Picardy Third - not so shocking, just a happy twist to an ambiguous movement.  Now, 8 gongs on the stage at once... that was interesting to me - but also, really why would you need 8 gongs for a symphonic movement, if not only for atmosphere and effect.

As for the rest of the program...  I really enjoyed hearing Debussy's Prelude by an orchestra known for its big, brassy "American" sound.  It was a great opportunity for the CSO to showcase their sensitive side.  The problem then lies in an audience that may be too accustomed to the in-your-face CSO, and thus making a little more noise than I'd like.  Really, paper rustling and cough-drop wrappers during the opening flute-solo don't add to the night!

Sibelius certainly knew how to end a symphony, and the audience responded very well to the work.  Like Salonen, Sibelius also worked with the mosaic frame - a bunch of small ideas that connect together into a larger work.  In the second movement, the blending of the basses and cellos as their parts weaved in and out of each other was fantastic.  I felt that this movement really highlighted the definition of the orchestra as one instrument.  It was nice to hear the trio of the scherzo movement as a feature for the woodwinds - as they often were, but aren't so often anymore.

Salonen's conducting was entertaining as an audience member.  During the Debussy, I could imagine him dancing the ballet version of the work, although he seemed a little too smooth and fluid to really take Nijinsky's role (not that he should).  Unlike Leonard Slatkin (from the last program I attended), it really felt like Salonen was leading the orchestra - not only in his own composition - but throughout.  Sometimes, less dynamic conductors give the feeling that the orchestra is on auto-pilot, but not Salonen and not tonight.  Occasionally, we went a little over the top for my liking -- too much movement from the conductor can distract from the performance (as can the baton hitting his stand), but overall, very enjoyable, with a great program.

Ballet - Gesamtkunstwerk

I feel that I must begin with a disclaimer:  I consider myself and idealist and a purist in many matters:  let's leave well enough alone!

So, I just watched a video of the ballet The Firebird, music by Stravinsky.  It was recorded by the Moscow Classikal Ballet (their spelling, not mine), and re-choreographed by Kasatkina and Vasilyov.  I was very disappointed.  The video quality was poor, the sound quality was tinny - but I can live with those in a transfer from older media.  It is the re-choreographed part that upsets me.  If I didn't know the Firebird story, I would have been terribly confused.  The character of the Firebird herself was greatly diminished, with many characters added.  The choreography didn't seem to match the music - and this upset me the most, since The Firebird was composed as a ballet score, this was not choreography to some music adapted for the ballet.  It was ballet music, through and through.

Having seen parts of the ballet with the original choreography by Mikhail Fokine, I was looking forward to watching the complete ballet.  I couldn't bear it.  Why did the Moscow Classikal Ballet feel the need to re-choreograph a classic?  Not just classic, but archetypal Russian ballet (well, that could open a can of fish, given that the ballet was written for a French audience, but for argument's sake, I'll just work with it).

Having spent a few weeks studying The Firebird and other Russian ballets, I feel like, in Diaghilev's Ballets Russes company, they approached something near the elusive gesamtkunstwerk - the "total art work" in a way that literary forms (that is with a text composed of some recognizable/nameable language) could not.  In dance, there is the opportunity to tell a complete, universally understood, story.  What makes the Ballets Russes special, in my opinion, is that they approached the gesamtkunstwerk not through individual effort, but through absolute teamwork (be it under the watchful eye of impressario Diaghilev).  Between Stravinsky, Fokine and designer Alexandre Benois, they created a masterpiece of theatre - one that stood the test of time and continues to be enjoyed and studied.  But, this wasn't enough for the Moscow Classikal Ballet, or for Kasatkina and Vasilyov.  They had to make it their own.  And, in doing so, destroyed it.  Sigh.

Out of morbid curiosity, I decided to watch the beginning of Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring) on the same DVD.  Whoops...  I can't even describe the disappointment there.  Although it is difficult to find a production of this ballet on DVD (I gather this might be the only one), save your time, and check out the YouTube version with the Joffrey Ballet of Chicago re-creating Nijinsky's original choreography...  then you get an idea of what was ground-breaking about Le Sacre du Printemps...
You can watch that here, with 833,000 others:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjX3oAwv_Fs

So, the moral of this story:  If you want to watch a DVD production of The Firebird, avoid the Moscow Classikal Ballet.  Look for one with Fokine's choreography.

Ivan Bilibin, 1899

Ivan Tsarevich Catching the Firebird's Feather

Laws of Art/Music: Discovery or Creation?

A quick thought that occurred to me last week, and I've been meaning to write about.  Is it possible to discover laws of artistic endeavours, or are they created?

In reading about Russian modernism, and particularly the suprematist movement led by Kasimir Malevich, there was a suggestion that Malevich and his associates were trying to discover the laws that govern art.  In discovering laws, are they not actually creating them?

As every first-year music student knows, there are laws about part-writing.  Yet, are these truly laws that were discovered?  I say no.  They are laws that were created and modeled after the style of J.S. Bach.  It was a group of people, over time, who entered these laws into the canon, not some act of discovery.

Howard Becker writes on this theme in Art Worlds...  isn't it interesting though how the search for artistic laws become quests of discovery rather than creation - as though some universality might have been discovered in Malevich's work?

Kasimir Malevich, Suprematism 1916

Symphony Hall

I love live concerts.  I just got back from a night with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and it reaffirmed my love for live symphony music.  From arrival at the hall to departure, I enjoy the experience.  Usually, I include the ride to and from Symphony Center in my enjoyment: people watching on the trains can be very interesting.  Tonight, a little less so.  Nothing terribly exciting or entertaining happened, with the exception of a gaggle of sorority girls who got on at Addison and off at Sheridan...  Don't people walk anywhere anymore?

Before the concert, as the players gradually arrive on stage and warm-up is in many ways my favourite part of the evening.  Attending to specific instruments as they warm up, instruments that you might not normally focus on... Listening for little glimpses of the melodies that will return throughout the evening... watching the players interact, tell jokes, check out the audience...  Then, the lights brighten on stage, and wane over the house.

I love the pomp and circumstance that reminds me of a gentler time.  One where standing as someone enters is a sign of respect - not snobbery, just respect.  The concertmaster, who sometimes seems almost embarrassed that all the attention is now on him (tonight was one of the assistant concertmasters, I guess Robert Chen had the night off).  And the tune-up...  largely not a necessity, and yet, a large number of players do make adjustments.  Very few in the woodwinds, who largely play a single note or in octaves; more adjustments in the brass as they check multiple valves and tubing combinations; more again among the strings, and the sound of the lowered string being tightened into tune... ahhh....  Then the conductor...

One of the greatest joys of a major orchestra like the CSO is in the fact that over 5-6 concerts, you're likely to see 4-5 conductors.  This season, we will have seen Maestro Muti twice, all others are guest conductors.  From young up-and-comers, to established war horses, there is an excitement in seeing which brand of conducting will arrive on stage.  Tonight, Leonard Slatkin brought a largely understated, albeit bouncy brand - one that always seemed to anticipate the orchestra, often by more than a beat...  On the whole, I felt Slatkin just seemed out of sync with the orchestra...  as for the closet conductors in the audience (myself often included) that is something different.  Tonight, there was a particularly active "armchair conductor" in one of the boxes that make up the second floor of Orchestra Hall, very eagerly directing Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra.

Speaking briefly of the program, I found it rare, and wonderful, that the program featured all 20th-century works (granted, one was the first decade, and two from the 40s... but still).  Elgar, Stravinsky, Bartok...  As the concert hall is largely a museum of music - in which you get to sample only the smallest gallery in each visit, it was nice to see a night where the gallery featured works of a more recent vintage, and I could not help to notice that the musical depictions of the war and post-war years continue to bear much relevance to today's grotesqueries...

If you're in the area, and have the chance, go see the CSO.  They are consistently considered among North America's best orchestras (often touted as the best), and among the best in the world.  The brass section is to die for, especially if seat N3 on the main floor has anything to say about it!

http://www.cso.org

ISTJ

Yep, I buy it...

The one word that best describes Inspectors is superdependable. Whether at home or at work, Inspectors are extraordinarily persevering and dutiful, particularly when it comes to keeping an eye on the people and products they are responsible for. In their quiet way, Inspectors see to it that rules are followed, laws are respected, and standards are upheld.

Inspectors (as much as ten percent of the general population) are the true guardians of institutions. They are patient with their work and with the procedures within an institution, although not always with the unauthorized behavior of some people in that institution. Responsible to the core, Inspectors like it when people know their duties, follow the guidelines, and operate within the rules. For their part, Inspectors will see to it that goods are examined and schedules are kept, that resources will be up to standards and delivered when and where they are supposed to be. And they would prefer that everyone be this dependable. Inspectors can be hard-nosed about the need for following the rules in the workplace, and do not hesitate to report irregularities to the proper authorities. Because of this they are often misjudged as being hard-hearted, or as having ice in their veins, for people fail to see their good intentions and their vulnerability to criticism. Also, because Inspectors usually make their inspections without much flourish or fanfare, the dedication they bring to their work can go unnoticed and unappreciated.

While not as talkative as Supervisor Guardians [ESTJs], Inspectors are still highly sociable, and are likely to be involved in community service organizations, such as Sunday School, Little League, or Boy and Girl Scouting, that transmit traditional values to the young. Like all Guardians, Inspectors hold dear their family social ceremonies-weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries - although they tend to be shy if the occasion becomes too large or too public. Generally speaking, Inspectors are not comfortable with anything that gets too fancy. Their words tend to be plain and down-to-earth, not showy or high-flown; their clothes are often simple and conservative rather than of the latest fashion; and their home and work environments are usually neat, orderly, and traditional, rather than trendy or ostentatious. As for personal property, they usually choose standard items over models loaded with features, and they often try to find classics and antiques - Inspectors prefer the old-fashioned to the newfangled every time.

Music -- National or Universal?

A question that has been on my mind for a while now, but I've not known how to approach, surrounds the question of "national" music.  I believe that it existed, and still exists.  But, what of those composers who strive to eliminate boundaries of nationalism and create not "world music" but a pan-world music?

In my readings this week, I came across a quote from Gluck, who in 1773 wished that his music “would appeal to all peoples” and “wipe out the ridiculous differences in national music.” (Marshall, Robert L.  "The Eighteenth-Century as a Music-Historical Epoch: A Different Argument for the Proposition." College Music Symposium 27(1987), 201).  This made me think of Henry Cowell, whose music was seen by some as moving toward a Neo-Primativism... driven by a need "to draw on those materials common to the music of all the peoples of the world, [in order] to build a new music particularly related to our own century."  (in Nicholls, David (ed.).  The Whole World of Music: A Henry Cowell Symposium.  Amsterdam: Horwood Academic Publishers, 1997.)

Here, we have two composers, who 160 years apart are consciously making an effort to create a sort of trans-ethnic music.  Granted, for Cowell, trans-ethnic is a far wider concept than for Gluck, but I would like to think that the background is the same, in trying to create a sort of universal music.  We have Cowell's own words that this was his goal.  Of The United Quartet, Cowell writes: This "is an attempt toward a more universal musical style." (in Taylor, Timothy D.  Beyond Exoticism.  Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2007.)

Taylor offers some more insights on a new age, in which "we are germic embryonic seed of future majesties of growth" (quoting John Varian, ibid.).  So, how can I merge this deep-seated and important-to-me belief that "The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens" (to take the words from the Baha'i Writings) with the music that has become my passion to study, understand, and hope to lead others to understand as well?  This is my quest!

Standard words...

So, I've decided that one of the things that upsets me most in academia is when scholars decide to change the meaning of words.  For example, James Webster, in an otherwise very interesting article on how to look at the periodization of music, particularly in the Eighteenth century, questions the characteristics of a century.  Now, to me (and I would guess most readers) the word "century" means a period of one hundred years, from the Latin centuria meaning, to divide into 100.  That Webster feels he can redefine a century irks me.  Webster writes: "... a century can be construed as having either begun or ended before or after the centenary, and also as having been shorter or longer than one hundred years."  (Webster, James.  "The Eighteenth Century as a Music-Historical Period?"  Eighteenth-Century Music.  1:1, 47-60.)    The first part of this statement is fine.  In no way does a 100-year period have to begin and end with years ending in 00.  However, to say that it can be longer or shorter than 100 years???  Can't we leave definitions of words that have been in the English language for 500 years alone?  We do have other words used to describe periods of history...  era, period, epoch, age...  why mess with the length of a century?   I can even get behind the descriptions of a long-Eighteenth century, or a long-Nineteenth century - there is a qualifier there that helps the reader to understand.  But, if we are trying to make our academic work relevant for the non-initiated reader, can't we let standards of measure be that... a standard?