For this assignment we were to do a little listening. Charles Ives: Three Places in New England, and "The Things our Fathers Loved"; Carl Ruggles: Sun-treader; and Charles Griffes: The Fountains of the Acqua Paola. As I was listening, I thought I enjoyed the Ives and the Ruggles, but they were nothing compared with the Griffes. I penciled some thoughts down as I listened, impressions, and kept them here in the same order, but added this intro lastly. First impressions, I believe, dictate a lot about our musical impressionism, and this blog is one that pleasantly surprised me.
Ruggles Sun-treader
This piece was one I could not put down, I kept listening to it. It does get repetitive and he uses the same idea again and again and again, and yet, I am unable to stop and say " I get it." The music in here is sort of hidden, as though I do not understand it's allure. The interesting thing is that I feel why it should be called sun treader, as though the piece is too intense for it's own good. I find myself wanting to hear more of that gritty, irritating, even obnoxious sounds that Ruggles forces upon the listener, like a well-refined crude sort of torture. The intensity of the trumpet is not enough, as though a doubled oboe could bring out the brightness, and the timpani/bass drum strikes could be enhanced with the addition of anvil, tom-tom, or even a deadened cowbell to create an even greater sense of angst. The incredible thing is the readiness with which the piece accepts itself. The confidence it exudes is a tribute to Ruggles' slow, methodical working style.
Ives Three Places in New England-1
The opening of this Ives Symphony, as it conforms to a few structural norms I feel comfortable describing it as such, is disturbing, unsettling, and beautiful. Ives' melody is paradoxical in that it provokes a pause in thought while it continues to evolve. Like a crook contemplating a murder, it is quiet, beautiful, plodding, but so careful to maintain this unspoken line, the listener should know that it will not cross, but continues to question this fact. Thought continues throughout without any action. Not intense, but subversive.
Ives-2
This movement comes out of nowhere! It is jazzy, energetic, even spicy, then slows to a more thoughtful section. Speeding back up with honky-tonk, ragtime beat, in a strangely fulfilling climax. Ives begs the question, what is tonal? His music thus far seems to work tonally, to the ear it is not unpleasent, despite the bold dissonances he uses to not illustrate, but insist upon his motives. At the close of this movement Ives, like Beethoven, relentlessly ushers in a rhythmic motive combined with his own brand of tonality to provide the listener with a totally unique sonic experience.
Ives-3
Wow, simply wow. This evokes Dvorak New World Symphony Movement II. All I can hear is the largo horn duet before the oboe entrance (about mm. 39). However, Ives puts these unsettled strings at a pp underneath. It sounds like forethought of disaster at a time of peace, or being in the eye of a hurricane. This whole movement just makes me nervous, as though it is too peaceful, thanks to the subtext of the strings. This is gorgeous, but so haunting. It climax's boldly, powerfully, and almost painful. The ending though, is strange, after that substantial climax it has an ending that is really just an incomplete
Griffes The Fountains of the Acqua Paola
This work evokes french impressionism undeniably. It almost sounds like Chopin, or Debussy. It feels joyful, spritely, and effervescent. This ethereal composition is light and airy. It sounds so easy yet emotional, like the heart skipping a beat. Time becomes a bit more strict at the coda, which does wonders for amplifying the mood. I wonder if this is due to it being the second time through, or if the effect would be equal if the first time was more strict and the coda more loose? Simply put, I love this! Like the Ruggles, I find myself unable to stop listening, I must have listened to it 5 times straight without writing a single word about it. I don't understand it yet, except that he plans it as a wispy, character piece. at a basic understanding I see that it is defined by it's lack of structure and time, as a free-floating phantasm. This makes my heart race, skip beats, and flow freely, I may go mad listening to it, repeatedly. As I edited the rest of this post, reviewing my syntax to ensure a little grammatical clarity it was still repeating. At the time of this post the tally was a full 40' of time spent listening, which is at least 12 times straight through.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Gann Ch. 1 Response
Gann provides a brief history of American Music, quickly jumping from the colonial almost straight to Ives. This is a little awkward, and leaves holes in the story. Without a complete picture, it lacks perspective, making a comprehensive view of
The only issue I take with the text is the lack of attention it pays to the other compositional ideas going on in colonial America. For example, although the text focuses heavily on Charles Ives (and rightly so), no mention is made of the mainstream composers who were not only major influences in American composition, but were current influences. Men like Howard Hanson are completely neglected, and even Horatio Parker, Ives' teacher, barely makes an appearance.
Nevertheless, a study on Carl Ruggles was most interesting. A figure I did not recognize, I searched him out to find more about his life and works. Writing in such a methodical and perfection-oriented manner, Ruggles strikes me as an American Brahms, a composer so bent on perfection that he neglects several of his works in favor of destroying over premiering a mediocre work. This kind of steadfast detail and insurmountable stubbornness truly demonstrates the soul of an artist focused and immersed in his work.
Upon further study, I found a terribly interesting tidbit. In the year of his son's birth, Ruggles finished his work Toys. This was the first work Ruggles would compose in his own atonal style, and yet, how ironic that a focus on dissonance should occur during a period when consonance in his household should reign. Although there is no mention of it, I wonder if this detail points to trouble at home, if it was coincidental, or if simply it was the consonant home life that furthered Ruggles' compositional idiom.
I also learned a lot about Ives. Charles Ives, I knew from previous study, was an insurance salesman by trade, and that composition came second. However, I was not aware that he composed in almost complete isolation. I also learned that Ives, like many artists, was not appreciated in his time. His works incorporate quarter tones, aleatoric elements, and other techniques that are radical and revolutionary for his time. Gann attributes much of Ives' success and forefront of the musical idiom to his father. This, I believe, is a mistake. Calling his music that which his father never got around to writing is like attributing Death and Transfiguration to Franz Strauss. The simple fact is: even if his father experimented with the techniques that Ives used, Ives himself used them, put them into place, put himself out there with his music to be judged, and recorded attempts at something different. Charles, not George, took that leap.
The only issue I take with the text is the lack of attention it pays to the other compositional ideas going on in colonial America. For example, although the text focuses heavily on Charles Ives (and rightly so), no mention is made of the mainstream composers who were not only major influences in American composition, but were current influences. Men like Howard Hanson are completely neglected, and even Horatio Parker, Ives' teacher, barely makes an appearance.
Nevertheless, a study on Carl Ruggles was most interesting. A figure I did not recognize, I searched him out to find more about his life and works. Writing in such a methodical and perfection-oriented manner, Ruggles strikes me as an American Brahms, a composer so bent on perfection that he neglects several of his works in favor of destroying over premiering a mediocre work. This kind of steadfast detail and insurmountable stubbornness truly demonstrates the soul of an artist focused and immersed in his work.
Upon further study, I found a terribly interesting tidbit. In the year of his son's birth, Ruggles finished his work Toys. This was the first work Ruggles would compose in his own atonal style, and yet, how ironic that a focus on dissonance should occur during a period when consonance in his household should reign. Although there is no mention of it, I wonder if this detail points to trouble at home, if it was coincidental, or if simply it was the consonant home life that furthered Ruggles' compositional idiom.
I also learned a lot about Ives. Charles Ives, I knew from previous study, was an insurance salesman by trade, and that composition came second. However, I was not aware that he composed in almost complete isolation. I also learned that Ives, like many artists, was not appreciated in his time. His works incorporate quarter tones, aleatoric elements, and other techniques that are radical and revolutionary for his time. Gann attributes much of Ives' success and forefront of the musical idiom to his father. This, I believe, is a mistake. Calling his music that which his father never got around to writing is like attributing Death and Transfiguration to Franz Strauss. The simple fact is: even if his father experimented with the techniques that Ives used, Ives himself used them, put them into place, put himself out there with his music to be judged, and recorded attempts at something different. Charles, not George, took that leap.
His period of silence itself may be testimony to his
greatness. More likely, I believe, Ives was pulled in so many directions
musically, he had no more room to grow, no new boundary to push. With the plethora
of techniques incorporated by Ives, it is a wonder he did not go mad pushing
music as far as he did. I believe that the quote ‘nothing sounds right’
attributed to him by his wife (1927), is a testimony to his forward-thinking
musicality. His period of silence is also a lack of experimentation. This is
more true to form, I think, in that Ives’ inability to create a new musical
experiment led to his lack of composition at all.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Avant Garde and Experimental as defined by the Cambridge History of American Music
The Cambridge article provided a little more insight into how we might study and interpret the avant garde and the experimental. A fine history lesson, the Cambridge viewpoint speaks of avant garde even as a slogan before a genre. An interesting idea.
Charles Ives experimented with the framework of what we consider 'traditional' music. He incorporated polytonality, extreme chromaticism, tone clusters, polyrhythm, polymeter, polytempo, stratification, and spatial separation into his work, all to serve his own aesthetic motives. At some point, however, the avant garde began to take on a new face, become a different being altogether, and possibly even lost sight of what the original aim was.
Composers begin to break away from their own 'movement' and question the validity of their earlier aesthetic belief. Then the International Composers Guild tanked and the composers were left to start again. From the 40's to the 60's, it seems the point of music began to change. Composers sought to create something different to create something different. Was it that the idea of new music and different music was pleasing, or was the music itself pleasing? Without a statement of artistic reasoning from the reading, indeed, little or no content devoted to the artistic reasons the composer's had in mind, the reader assumes that the composers changed music for the sake of changing music, rather than to satisfy some aesthetic goal. This distinction is unique in the history of music. Composer's up until now have sought to change music for aesthetic reasons rather than to change music for the sake of itself, and thus the growth and evolution of sound became unnatural.
The text later called the visual changes that took place in music from the 40's to the 60's the "most obvious manifestation" (page 525) of the change in music where tones were written as tones and not pieces of a tonal puzzle, enjoyed for their own idiosyncrasies. How is this an obvious manifestation of the change? Music itself is the only art form that functions purely aesthetically, with no physical characteristic. The visual only plays part in communicating the idea behind a work. Why emphasize a characteristic that plays no true part in what makes music?
This distinction of music being focused on as visual furthers the idea that the composers were departing from the conventions of composition for the sake of departure. Without artistic or musical reason, why? What is gained musically by changing for the sake of change? Should not change serve some purpose beside itself? Change as a natural phenomena is solely used as a medium to transition and create a more quality, more durable, or more sustainable product.
A departure from traditional notation notwithstanding, the avant garde composers seem to lose themselves in their own minds, a lack of caring for how their works are interpreted seems to be the norm. This is of course, only functions as a response to the short article on the history of the avant garde and experimental. However, how are we to say what a piece is without any true directive by the composer. Does this idea and amount of thought provoked by a simple history of the avant garde point to the true point of avant garde as a whole? If the idea is to inspire thought and to promote a reaction from the audience, this musical genre has clearly succeeded, not just in it's own time, but ringing through decades later.
Charles Ives experimented with the framework of what we consider 'traditional' music. He incorporated polytonality, extreme chromaticism, tone clusters, polyrhythm, polymeter, polytempo, stratification, and spatial separation into his work, all to serve his own aesthetic motives. At some point, however, the avant garde began to take on a new face, become a different being altogether, and possibly even lost sight of what the original aim was.
Composers begin to break away from their own 'movement' and question the validity of their earlier aesthetic belief. Then the International Composers Guild tanked and the composers were left to start again. From the 40's to the 60's, it seems the point of music began to change. Composers sought to create something different to create something different. Was it that the idea of new music and different music was pleasing, or was the music itself pleasing? Without a statement of artistic reasoning from the reading, indeed, little or no content devoted to the artistic reasons the composer's had in mind, the reader assumes that the composers changed music for the sake of changing music, rather than to satisfy some aesthetic goal. This distinction is unique in the history of music. Composer's up until now have sought to change music for aesthetic reasons rather than to change music for the sake of itself, and thus the growth and evolution of sound became unnatural.
The text later called the visual changes that took place in music from the 40's to the 60's the "most obvious manifestation" (page 525) of the change in music where tones were written as tones and not pieces of a tonal puzzle, enjoyed for their own idiosyncrasies. How is this an obvious manifestation of the change? Music itself is the only art form that functions purely aesthetically, with no physical characteristic. The visual only plays part in communicating the idea behind a work. Why emphasize a characteristic that plays no true part in what makes music?
This distinction of music being focused on as visual furthers the idea that the composers were departing from the conventions of composition for the sake of departure. Without artistic or musical reason, why? What is gained musically by changing for the sake of change? Should not change serve some purpose beside itself? Change as a natural phenomena is solely used as a medium to transition and create a more quality, more durable, or more sustainable product.
A departure from traditional notation notwithstanding, the avant garde composers seem to lose themselves in their own minds, a lack of caring for how their works are interpreted seems to be the norm. This is of course, only functions as a response to the short article on the history of the avant garde and experimental. However, how are we to say what a piece is without any true directive by the composer. Does this idea and amount of thought provoked by a simple history of the avant garde point to the true point of avant garde as a whole? If the idea is to inspire thought and to promote a reaction from the audience, this musical genre has clearly succeeded, not just in it's own time, but ringing through decades later.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Avant Garde and Experimental Music: Defined?
As a genre, the avant garde seems impossible to define, except to supply it with a time period. As stated in Grove (Oxford Music Online), the avant garde began in the late 19th century and continues into the present day. Attempting to define avant garde as a whole would be futile, it seems more prudent to label it as what it is not.
The avant garde, therefore, is a variety of art and music that is non-mainstream or non-popular, non-commercial, and non-classical. Not to say that avant garde does not break into mainstream art and music, it does. This point functions to reason that it's creation lies outside the purposes of mainstream media. In Grove, a departure from the norm defines avant garde. Built as an attempt to break away, avant garde simply relies on forcing a response from the intended audience. This response could be intended or not, but avant garde never relies on face value as would classical and baroque art. This distinction can be seen by juxtaposing avant garde art with Renaissance art, where the idea represented and the motive behind a work are clear. In avant garde, a point need not be made, it may simply be a work intended to provoke thought and require attention from the audience.
Experimental music flows in the same vein as avant garde, a variety of music that allows for the element of uncontrolled and unpredictable noise. Wikipedia makes this statement at the beginning of the article on experimental music. However, does music not inherently have this quality? Is there not always uncontrolled sound and unpredictable noise in every piece of music and art? It seems redundant to label anything that way. By nature, music will have that element. There is no way for a composer to know that a horn player will not frack a note, that the brass will play every chord in tune. At the most professional level, the noises sounds spit valves being released, pages turning, and other miscellaneous sounds remain.
A departure from the norm permeates both genres, which also begs a question. Does not all music seek to create something new? If we accept that one piece differs from another in function or style, than music has been changing since it began. Following this line of thinking, all music would be different than that which came before. Did not some composers attempt to separate themselves from their peers by creating something new? Criticism of art would play a role in this as well. With self criticism or public, an artist would change what he/she had done in order to create a 'better' project. This again leaves questions. By attempting to create a better project, a different project, would not an artist inherently be departing from the norm?
The only fast and true statements that can be gleamed from studying the definitions of what avant garde and experimental music are, are that avant garde began (in name) just before the turn of the twentieth century, and that they make an attempt to break away from what they consider to be 'normal art'.
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