Showing posts with label attention. Show all posts
Showing posts with label attention. Show all posts

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Amuses Bouche, Amuses Oreilles: Williamson and One-Minute Wonders

Clive Williamson, ‘One-Minute Wonders’
T   his concept, of one-minute piano compositions, arose as] a component of the first-year piano test in which all students are required to learn a short piece without assistance in seven days [at University of Surrey School of Music]. Though the students find this demanding, it is actually a very good test of their musicianship. The ‘Spectrum’ series deserves mention too: compiled by Thalia Myers and published by the Associated Board, it is a collection of short piano pieces by distinguished composers presented for students at a variety of levels of ability. I was also aware of the component of the composition course to write a piece of one minute for one instrument: it is a challenge for a composer to be able to communicate a sense of personal style within this time-frame. For me as a performer with a great deal of experience of working in new music as well as with student composers in workshops, there was clearly something personal which I felt able to contribute.”
  —  Clive Williamson, Professor of Keyboard, School of Music, University of Surrey.
Their small size belies the big challenges that ‘miniatures’ present, both to the composer and to the performer. ... And, come to think of it, to the listener.

Subsequent to the University of Surrey program referred to in the blockquote above, Clive Williamson recorded 36 of these on a disk released on Cadenza Records two years ago. His performance of each one is meticulous and empathetic, brilliant.

Clive Williamson
Clive has been a soloist at the Barbican, Queen Elizabeth Hall, Wigmore Hall, and many other venues throughout Europe and America. He has performed on BBC2 (‘Music in Camera’) and Channel 4 (‘Scipio’s Dream’). Additionally, he has been a guest artist with the London Sinfonietta, the Composers’ Ensemble, Sinfonia 21, and Sound Intermedia. He records for BBC Radio 3, West German Radio, and Netherlands Radio, and on the Col Legno, Wergo, Hyperion, and Cadenza labels. He trained at York University and the Royal Academy of Music with Ruth Harte, among others.

The technical and emotional palettes represented in the ‘One-Minute Wonders’ collection are tremendously diverse. Some of the pieces are ‘novelties’—humorous responses to the one-minute compositional challenge, performed in a jesting manner. But other of the pieces are serious, just as some so-called ‘microfiction’ (ultra-short stories, generally less than 250 words long; 2 min) or ‘nanofiction’ (complete stories in 55 words; 30 sec) is serious. [cf. ‘flash fiction’ (500 to 1,500 words; 4 to 10 min) and ‘sudden fiction’ (1,500 to 4,500 words; 10 to 30 min).]

Harold Edgerton, MIT, high-speed photo, apple and bullet
For the composer just as for the microfiction author, it’s a huge challenge to say something worthwhile in so small a space. The ‘density’ of expression entails big risks, of turning out contrived or forced or trite. Assuming that the composer succeeds in creating something that’s emotionally genuine and aesthetically interesting, for the performer it’s then a monumental challenge to enter into the piece and effectively deliver authenticity in so short a time. For the audience members, it’s a huge challenge to quickly apprehend what’s being set before them.

The beginning sentence is difficult. Who are you? Somebody! Do you want your piece to open with notes evoking a character doing something or thinking about something? You haven’t the luxury of putting a theme forward and letting it register with the listener/performer for a goodly number of measures; you have to figure out crystal-clear cues, ones that orient the listener/performer quickly.

What’s more, you have to have some sense for the neurophysiology of context-switching and memory, how fast the listener/performer can adapt to new ideas you introduce, or to transitions between ideas. You have to consider the diversity of your listeners/performers, in terms of their attentiveness and receptiveness to the ideas you are laying down. When people become charcters, they’re no longer fully ‘human’; they're symbols to be ‘pointed out’. Indicial/referential icons, nothing more.

MicrofictionBegin your one-minute wonder:
  • With a generalization or pastiche of something that's familiar (like Michael Finnissy does with his send-up of Chopin’s Op. 64 No. 1);
  • With a narrative summary that sketches and encapsulates the whole piece;
  • With a syntactical curiosity, a palindrome, or a chiasmus that begs the question as to whether we fully understand things that are conventional wisdom or second-nature—or that intrigues the listener by way of inviting consideration of a seeming absurdity;
  • With a dramatic morsel of dialogue;
  • With several characters already in-action but no dialogue;
  • With a vivid setting and a solitary character;
  • With a performer/narrator reminiscing or establishing a point of view in first person;
  • With the performer/narrator describing something in third person.
Are ‘arch’ shapes the way to go, to create bomb-proof coherence and continuity? Is instead a sense of fragmentation a good way to induce a strong desire for continuation? Or, yet another angle, is a vegetative repetition (for example, Skempton’s ‘Stroking the Keys’) a good way to induce a curiosity about the psychological state of the main character?

B   revity and Conciseness are the parents of Correction.”
  —  Hosea Ballou.
The coincidence of the registral and (experienced) dynamic shapes of the music in the first few bars almost have to generate a strong cadential feeling, or the piece will fall apart before our eyes (ears). But how far should we go in terms of ‘tessitura’?

And how about the dynamics? What to do to insure that we capture the aural attention of the listeners, and yet not devolve into clichés and cheap theatrics?

The resolution/ending is just as challenging as all the rest. Actually, G. Thomas has some wonderful suggestions that are as useful for composers as they are for authors.

Here are some example 30-sec MP3 clips from his ‘One-Minute Wonders’ CD. The accompanying books containing sheetmusic for these compositions are inexpensive (£10) and nicely laid-out and printed. You may find miniatures like the ones represented on Williamson’s disk are useful in your repertoire. Some, like the Benjamin Hooper one, have virtuosic qualities that are well-disposed to serving as encore material. Other ones are coloristic and bonbon-like but are more contemplative or enigmatic than is usually suitable for an encore.

Composers may likewise find these instructive, emblematic as they are of a variety of gestures and tropes and architectures in miniature.


Paul Archibold, ‘Coronae’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Paul Archibold, ‘Coronae’, 0.8MB MP3]


Colin Matthews, ’60-Second Waltz’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Colin Matthews, ’60-Second Waltz’, 0.8MB MP3]


Michael Finnissy, ‘One-Minute Wonder’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Michael Finnissy, ‘One-Minute Wonder’, 0.8MB MP3]


Gordon McPherson, ‘Se voce puder dizer algo em um minuto e ele [worth] dizer’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Gordon McPherson, ‘Se voce puder dizer algo em um minuto e ele [worth] dizer’, 0.8MB MP3]


Howard Skempton, ‘Stroking the Keys’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Howard Skempton, ‘Stroking the Keys’, 0.8MB MP3]


Sebastian Forbes, ‘Toccata’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Sebastian Forbes, ‘Toccata’, 0.8MB MP3]


Mark Sambell, ‘Crossing the M4 (as a spider)’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Mark Sambell, ‘Crossing the M4 (as a spider)’, 0.8MB MP3]


Benjamin Hooper, ‘University Challenge’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Benjamin Hooper, ‘University Challenge’, 0.8MB MP3]


Sadie Harrison, ‘Sleeping with Fishes’
    [30-sec clip, Clive Williamson; Sadie Harrison, ‘Sleeping with Fishes’, 0.8MB MP3]


 Harold Edgerton, MIT, high-speed photo, milk drop
W  hoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
  —  Famous flash ‘chiasmus’, Matthew 23: 11-12.


Sunday, October 19, 2008

Autocorrelation and Agogicity: Measuring Goode’s Bach

Richard Goode
W    hat one remembers most from Goode’s playing is not its beauty—exceptional as it is—but his way of coming to grips with the composer’s central thought, so that a work tends to make sense beyond one’s previous perception of it... The spontaneous formulating process of the creator [becomes] tangible in the concert hall.”
  —  David Blum, New Yorker, 29-JUN-1992.
To say exactly why we like or dislike a particular artist’s interpretation of a piece of music is difficult. And to compare and contrast two different artists’ interpretations in a way that can be objectively assessed and broadly agreed upon is also hard. The language of analysis and criticism readily devolves into nebulous descriptions or into abstruse technical terms that get in the way of conversation and real understanding. But the superb performance last night by Richard Goode in Kansas City in a Bach-Chopin program that was part of the Friends of Chamber Music’s ‘Master Pianists Series’ prompted me to take a whack at remedying this.

I thoroughly enjoy everything Richard Goode does, always. But in this recital I especially liked his accounts of Bach’s Sinfonias (BWV 791-801) and Preludes and Fugues from Das Wohltemperirte Clavier, Book II (BWV 870, 878, 885, 889). And I very much admire his accounts of Bach’s Partitas... one of Richard’s encore pieces was the Sarabande from the D major Partita No. 4 (BWV 828). How to describe it? His interpretation is not as ‘dry’ as others’ Bach interpretations; it is optimistic and expansive—and it projects a distinctive, quintessentially ‘American’ attitude of curiosity and humor about life.

I confess I always feel that flowery, subjective descriptions are less than satisfying though. When I tell you why I like Richard’s interpretations, I want instead to be able to give you something that you can independently and reliably and objectively assess for yourself. I want to compare what Richard does quantitatively to, say, Glenn Gould’s and others’ interpretations—and calculate how they differ in various passages, and why those differences cause us to perceive and respond to the interpretations in such varied ways. How shall we do that?

One way to do it is to take digital recordings of the performances and perform a number of signal-processing measurements on them; examine the timings within critical phrases or across longer expressive spans; calculate various time-domain metrics from the digitized music; perform statistical tests on the metrics, to see whether and how they differ; and so on. I regularly do that, as a hobby—not just with baroque music but with other things, too, when I’m trying to understand why I am feeling a certain way about a piece. (Somewhat weird hobby, I admit, but it’s just in my engineer’s nature to want to take things apart and figure out what makes them ‘tick’.) Usually I use MATLAB or MAPLE or MATHEMATICA other fancy math software to do this. But it’s actually possible to do a number of interesting and useful analyses with something as simple as Microsoft Excel. Here goes!

Think, for example, about the difference between Goode and Gould when playing Bach. Actually, to make a clean ‘apples-to-apples’ comparison, let’s think about just Bach’s 6 Partitas and, within those, let’s think about just one of the movement forms that has a consistent time-signature—for example, the Allemandes.

As an historical dance usually in 4/4 time, an Allemande can have a tempo ranging from largo almost up to presto. Gould’s tempi are quite fast; Goode’s are generally more leisurely, at least ‘New Yorker leisurely’. But just noting the large-scale differences in tempi is too crude—it doesn’t explain very much about why their interpretations are so different. The ‘pulse’ is a function of time, operating and varying on a multi-dimensional, fractal time scale: rubato—small-scale, intra- and inter-beat and inter-measure variations; and larger-scale accelerando/ritardando decisions.

Bach Partita Allemande Motorics, Goode vs. Gould
But the differences arise from more even than that. The durations that particular notes are held are also distinctively different. ‘Agogic’ is the fancy music-theory word that means varying a note’s (or beat’s) emphasis by varying its duration. A dry, flat, highly ‘motoric’ performance like Gould’s doesn’t have much agogic variation. A more romantic performance like Goode’s has many places where lots of agogic emphasis is used.

A    •gog•ic [uh-goj-ik]
(noun) the theory that accents within a musical phrase can be produced by modifying the duration of certain notes rather than by increasing dynamic stress.
(adj) stressed or accented through a variably prolonged duration.”
So, gee, you can take an MP3 and use a cheap digital audio editor software app; you drag the cursor over the beginning of a note and then rubber-band-drag the cursor to the end of the note; you measure how many milliseconds that time-interval is. You can do that for all of the notes in 4 or 6 or 8 bars of a passage that contains what, for you, is emblematic of the interpretive difference you’re interested in. Do that for one artist’s recording, and then do the same thing for the same bars in another artist’s recording. You put the information into a spreadsheet or database. You then quantitatively calculate the ‘agocity’ of the two artists’ performances/interpretations.

W hich is what I did, after being stimulated by Richard’s wonderful performance last night. I just had to figure out why it is that I like his Bach so much while I simultaneously like various other artists’ Bach interpretations very much, too. And I wanted to be able to say objectively how their characteristic personal rhythmic decisions differ in crucial passages. I wanted to put together a little ‘tool’ that I could share with you, which would enable all of us to conveniently figure these things out in the future—not just for Bach but for anything. That way we won’t be frustrated by nebulous words that don’t really say very much or that have hopelessly imprecise meanings.

Autocorrelation (of beat-to-beat time-intervals; or of note-to-note durations) is a statistical function that measures repeating patterns, such as the presence of a periodic signal which is (partly) obscured by variability.

It’s used frequently in signal processing for analyzing series of values, so-called time-domain signals or time-series. Mathematically, it represents the quantitative similarity between observations as a function of the time separation between them. The time-domain is divided up into units—in this case, my measurements were in milliseconds for note/beat durations over passages over various lengths (up to 6 bars at a time in the portions of the Partitas that interested me). Then I ‘normalized’ those values to the average milliseconds per beat across the number of measures in the passages I compared, and I set the normalized tempo for Goode to 100% and the normalized tempo for Gould to 100%. Next, to take into account that Gould plays almost everything substantially faster than Goode, I calculated the ‘within-performer-within-phrase’ autocorrelations from the percentage deviations from those by-performer normalized 100%-meter values. The autocorrelation can be expressed as an equation involving the covariance and variance of these time-series from time i to time t as a function of the beats in between (lag k):

Autocorrelation
The results of this little experiment are in this Excel spreadsheet. You can click on the screenshot below to open the file or download a copy of it. If you like, you can use the spreadsheet to make your own measurements of selected bars of pairs of performances you’d like to compare.

Huron book
To me, the significance is that I now understand much better what it is about Goode’s Bach that pleases me so much: it is this particular autocorrelation pattern—a characteristic species of agogicity that the autocorrelogram graphically shows. There are long-range, high, positive autocorrelations at various inter-beat distances that line up more or less on the first-beat-of-measure boundaries [and also the phrase and hyper-meter boundaries], and those autocorrelation peaks taper off quite slowly the further apart any two notes are (the more ‘lag’ units there are between them in the sequence of notes or beats). By contrast, Gould (and other ‘drier’ Bach interpreters) has a high autocorrelation for adjacent notes (at Lag = 1), which damps out pretty quickly the further apart any two notes are.

W hat the autocorrelation analysis tells us is that Goode’s playing manifests a high degree of ‘associativity’ of time intervals over longer time-scales—and this is equally true for intervals that he compresses to be shorter than the nominal meter, and for intervals that he agogically prolongs and stresses. The peaks in the autocorrelogram amount to a sort of ‘polymeter’ that is distinctively Goode’s.

By contrast, Gould’s playing manifests a ‘memory-lessness’—nearly devoid of associativity of rhythms and durations on long time-scales for non-adjacent notes. Both Goode and Gould perform these motoric Bach dance suite movements with motoric rhythmicity. But their motor-like rhythms are remarkably and measurably different—the differences in our cognitive and emotional perceptions when we hear these disparate interpretations arise from their deliberately different, highly personal and unmistakeably different autocorrelations. Here we have quantitatively different ‘agogicity’ as a measure of interpretive style.

I    fixed the action in some of the instruments I play on — and the piano I use for all recordings is now so fixed — so that it is a shallower and more responsive action than the standard. It ... is rather like an automobile without power steering: you are in control and not it; it doesn’t drive you, you drive it. This is the secret of doing Bach on the piano at all. You must have that immediacy of response, that control over fine definitions of things.”
  —  Glenn Gould.
Saying that Gould’s Allemande playing is relatively ‘memory-less’ or anti-agogic is not to say that his playing was ‘mechanical’ or automatic or that his vision of these Allemandes was ‘microscopic’ and eschewed a macro-scale rhythmic architecture. By no means! Goode has and Gould had—each of them—comprehensive conceptions of each of these Allemandes—of each of the Partitas’ and Suites’ movements. But the metric organization and fractal scales that they each use to build their interpretations’ rhythmic structure are dramatically different—in ways that, as you see above, can be measured and compared numerically and displayed graphically. By autocorrelation analysis, we find out exactly how Goode paints with a ‘broader’ somewhat impressionistic brush (Rembrandt?) and Gould with a magnifying glass and a ‘finer’ one (Vermeer?). Both are highly detailed and narrative in their delivery of the Partitas and Suites; both are illusionistic.

So here we have one good, objective way to measure and say how they do what they do, and how it works. Leigh Smith and other music theoreticians have examined things in similar ways in years past [see links below], not for Bach and not with quite the same purpose as what we’re doing here. They have used wavelet transforms and other frequency-domain methods, not just autocorrelation and time-domain methods. Smith in particular discusses the difference between measuring the actual timing (from waveform or other performance data) versus capturing the musician’s intention (from MIDI keystrokes datastream or other empirical data that precede the music being made audible). In my own experimentation to prepare this CMT blog post, I have (obviously) only the features in the waveforms digitized in the (audible) MP3 files to work with and have spent only a few hours working on it. This post and its Excel attachment are meant only as a quick demonstration that these things work and that they are useful to help us understand the music better. Enjoy!

Bach, Partita No. 1, BWV 825, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 1, BWV 825, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [40-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 1, BWV 825, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

Bach, Partita No. 2, BWV 826, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 2, BWV 826, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [45-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 2, BWV 826, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

Bach, Partita No. 3, BWV 827, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 3, BWV 827, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [45-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 3, BWV 827, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

Bach, Partita No. 4, BWV 828, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 4, BWV 828, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [45-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 4, BWV 828, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

Bach, Partita No. 5, BWV 829, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 5, BWV 829, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [35-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 5, BWV 829, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

Bach, Partita No. 6, BWV 830, Allemande
    [50-sec clip, Richard Goode, Bach, Partita No. 6, BWV 830, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

    [40-sec clip, Glenn Gould, Bach, Partita No. 6, BWV 830, Allemande, 1.2MB MP3]

In Goode’s Bach I hear a sort of Walt Whitman-esque, America-flavored ‘agogic freedom’—Goode’s rhythm and emphases and playing style represent to me a sort of ‘democracy trope’. I hear in him an enthusiasm for discovery; an ever-renewing openness for life’s ambiguities and ‘matters-arising’.

Goode’s affect or vision involves more rhetorical freedom than Gould’s concept of Bach, I think, in part because of the sentinel differences in their autocorrelation patterns and ‘agogic polymeter’. Oh, there is of course a difference between rubato (freedom ‘between’ the beats) and agogics (freedom ‘of’ the beats—in where the beats fall). Agogics are often applied at harmonic-pivot points. That’s just where they naturally and logically tend to go.

But Goode’s autocorrelated ‘agogic polymeter’ (or whatever you’d prefer to call it) I think ‘subverts’ or calls into question what we perceive the meter to be—by injecting variable, conflicting metrical structure and by modestly shifting the phase of the metrical accents. This is why it has the strong, friendly effect on me that it does. The initial events of each of these Allemandes provide evidence sufficient for us to establish contexts and referential schematics—mental ‘models’ for what we imagine will follow. The acoustic cues fit into the schematic or framework around which our subsequent anticipation is formed. Deferring or subverting the established meter, as Goode does, forces us listeners to attend to the present moment and continually revise and re-form our expectations. By contrast, with Gould, most of what we anticipate promptly materializes. Gould’s epistemological and perceptual effect and the impact on our cognition and emotions are quite different from Goode’s.

Cognitively, we subconsciously keep track of and group the conflicts and uncertainties/ambiguities that are caused by Goode’s mounting ‘phenomenal agogic accents’. Maintaining these multiple concurrent and conflicting suppositions in our heads as we listen to Goode play—asks that we put a considerable and peculiar sort of effort into it. It is a different sort of attention, I would say, than the attention that Gould’s playing asks of us. Goode’s agogically autocorrelated playing requires our listening strategy to allocate attention and memory toward establishing groupings and processing long timescale expectations. Goode engages us in a distinctive and different sort of conversation/meditation. And the autocorrelation analysis just helps to reveal a quantitative pattern that explains how it’s different.

 Little-Jenne book
Compared to Goode’s interpretations, Gould’s Bach has—I go out on a limb here—an ‘anti-expressionist’ aesthetic. From Gould (and others) we get unrelenting introspection, plus transcendent but psychologically ‘dissociative’ experiences, almost PTSD-like experiences.

To me, the ideal affect with Bach also involves a certain amount of rhetorical surprise as well as angst. Agogic accents—a ‘sung’ or ‘danced’ rhythm that either personalizes or depersonalizes—orients or disorients—can make the expression seem as though it were uttered by a particular and known ‘self’ (e.g., Goode; or Bach) or, alternatively, by an ambivalent or profoundly unknowable entity—(e.g, Gould; or God/TheDivine/TheCosmos).

So these Bach suites—and these Allemandes—are no mere dances. Goode ‘dances’ mostly ‘out’; Gould—and others—dance them in a mostly ‘inward’ way. The depth and the originality in the ways that Goode and other artists ‘dance’ them, while they are surely very diverse, never cease to delight and inspire and propel us to take hold of life and figure things out.

The two-hour program last night also included a wonderful collection of Chopin Mazurkas (Op. 6 No. 3 in E major; Op. 7 No. 2 in A minor; Op. 7 No. 4 in A-flat major; Op. 56 No. 2 in C major; Op. 56 No. 3 in C minor), Nocturnes (Op. 15. No. 2 in F-sharp major; Op. 27. No. 2 in D-flat major), and Waltzes (Op. 34 No. 3 in F major; Op 64. No. 2 in C-sharp minor; Op. 64 No. 3 in A-flat major)—24 pieces in all. Both the Op. 39 No. 3 Scherzo in C-sharp minor just before the interval and the Op. 61 Polonaise-Fantasie at the end of the program brought the appreciative audience to its feet. Bravo!

Little-Jenne book, p. 92
M    aking a break from the first and second notes of a melody is to be recommended where the tempo changes from slow to fast. In passing from the Andante to the Allegro in the Sinfonia of Partita No. 2, for example, it is advisable to retain the slow tempo on the final G major chord and not to embark on the faster tempo until the two semiquavers which follow... A relative degree of independence of the beat also applies in the case of recitative.”
  —  WWPBSD? [What Would Paul Badura-Skoda Do?], p. 18.

Huron book