Showing posts with label pacifism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pacifism. Show all posts

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Brentano String Quartet: The Art of Unrest, Expressed and Relieved through Metrical Dissonance and Pharmacology

Brentano String Quartet
W   ell, I wrote a couple of good poems on them—with mescaline, acid [LSD], nitrous oxide, marijuana, and amphetamines. So, yes, those are direct influences on my writing. But aside from 60 or so pages [that I wrote when I was intoxicated and which would not probably have been possible for me to write had I not been intoxicated], the spiritual effect of drugs was not extensive in creation of my texts.”
  —  Allen Ginsberg, responding to a question about how psychedelics and alcohol affected his writing, interview with David Jay Brown, ‘Mavericks of the Mind: Conversations for the New Millennium’, 1993.
L ike [Walt Whitman’s] ‘Leaves of Grass’, ‘Howl’ was an experiment with language. Ginsberg combined the vernacular with the lexicon of holy men; mixed obscenities with sacred oaths; linked the slang of the day with the rhetorical flourishes of the founding fathers of the Republic... As he wrote ‘Howl’, he becomes [and, on listening to it, we become— ] intoxicated with words and the sounds of words... the words produce an electrical ‘charge’ that is exhilarating.”
  —  Jonah Raskin, American Scream, p. 225.
W hat do Lee Hyla’s ‘Howl’ for string quartet with narrator (composed in 1993 and premiered at Carnegie Hall by Kronos Quartet with Allen Ginsberg on 20-JAN-1994) and Robert Schumann’s String Quartet in A Major, Op. 41, No. 3 (composed in 1842) have in common, other than that they are both string quartets and they were both performed by the Brentanos, in a performance for the Friends of Chamber Music series at the Folly Theater in Kansas City last night?

Quite a few things!

Both are musical essays having to do with struggles with inner unrest, with intoxication (Allen’s; Robert’s), and with the existential pain of creativity. Both utilize ‘metrical dissonance’ as a compositional device to say what they have to say on those subjects. Both are, in their own ways, ‘experiments’ with musical language. And both are about the plight of oneself and one’s friends, about the suffering of family and friends of people who have mental illness.

Op. 41 was written, at least in part, while the then-32-year-old Schumann was ‘high’ on champagne. Robert was less than 2 years into his marriage to Clara, during a period when the couple was having some difficulties. ‘Howl’ was written, at least in part, while the then-29-year-old Ginsberg was ‘high’ on peyote. [Composer Lee Hyla was not ‘under the influence’ while composing, but he nonetheless gives an inspired, realistic rendering of Ginsberg’s hallucinatory rhythms and taut imagery in this composition for string quartet.]

Like the lines in Ginsberg’s poem, the voice-leading lines in Hyla’s quartet are long—several measures, mostly 5 seconds or longer. Hyla’s paratactic rhythms —choppy, short, dissimilar phrases juxtaposed without a logical or rhetorical connection—are faithful to Ginsberg’s diction. Schumann’s lines in Op. 41 No.3 are also pretty long…

I deally, each line of Howl is a single breath unit. My breath is long—that’s the measure, one physical-mental inspiration of thought contained in the ‘elastic band’ of one breath.”
  —  Allen Ginsberg, in Deliberate Prose: Selected Essays 1952-1995. William Morgan, ed. Harper, 2000.
S chumann’s and Ginsberg’s experimentation with intoxicants: was it aimed at achieving an esoteric, transcendent spiritual experience; calming their over-active, troubled minds; suppressing internal psychological controls that inhibited their creativity; obliterating their depression? Listen for hints of these in these two pieces!

Lee Hyla
Hyla synchronizes the beat in the string parts with the ‘Who’, ‘Denver’, ‘Moloch’, ‘Rockland’, and ‘Holy’ clauses in the narration of the Ginsberg poem. Hyla also honors the poem’s ‘pyramidal’ (graduated longer response to the fixed base) rhythmic structure in Part-3. But he does these things with deliberate rhythmic variances (micropulse inter-part asyncrohony) that create a wonderful edginess, fitting for Ginsberg’s poetics. (Hyla must be a fine actor as well as a fine composer, so sensitive is he in this composition to nuances of timing!) And Schumann does these things as well in Op.41 No.3—especially in the first movement. Rhythmic skew between the parts; micropulse asynchrony, one of the types of ‘metrical dissonance’, to use Harald Krebs’s term. The Brentano Quartet members exhibited superb timing in their performance to the recording of Ginsberg’s reading of the poem, exciting the members of this Kansas City audience attending last night’s opening concert in the Friends of Chamber Music season. The theme for the evening was ‘The Art of Unrest’, and the concert was accompanied by an exhibit of art works pertaining to societal and personal strife in the concert hall’s foyer and commons areas.

Robert and Clara Schumann, 1942
So here’s the deal: Robert Schumann’s String Quartet in F Major, Op. 41, No. 3 simultaneously embodies struggles in love, in compositional method, and in depression—ameliorated by recreational chemicals. Schumann was clinically depressed that year, and was frequently drinking to the point of intoxication during two months’ separation from wife Clara. A couple of Robert’s letters allude to this; one of his published essays of the time expounds on the merits of champagne over schnapps, as aids to creativity.

During the middle of the year, Clara was nominally away from home traveling and concertizing; however, there is evidence that the ‘separation’ was more than merely an interval of performance-related travel. And Robert’s frenzied creativity during her absence may have been motivated by his hopes of redemption and reconciliation? There is scanty evidence to go on. And, understandably, the biographies portray this period in a perfunctory way, stating that he was ‘intensively studying counterpoint and Haydn’s quartets’ and so on. But these superficialities, while they are no doubt true so far as they go, have the effect of obfuscating more than they illuminate. Would those superficialities be plausible or sufficient to explain these compositions by a manic-depressive person, produced in a period of a few weeks? There must be a back-story, one that the biographies don’t provide—and that Robert’s correspondence provides only glimpses of.

S chumann’s] fascination with the effects of alcohol cannot be taken as a paean to insobriety, when he writes: ‘The intoxication that often accompanies geniality [ingeniousness] must be brought on by champagne, not schnapps.’ ‘Knillität’ [tipsiness, but not falling-down-drunkenness] is neither more nor less than an emblem for the heightened awareness associated with the act of creation.”
  —  John Daverio, quoting Schumann’s essay of 1828 on the anatomy of creative genius, in ‘Schumann: Herald of a New Poetic Age’, p. 46.
During Robert’s waking hours over the course of those frenzied weeks in 1842, he found that writing string quartets helped relieve his distress regarding Clara and their separation. The writing made his manic episode worse, but he quenched the mania with champagne. Robert shared the string quartet sketches and etudes with Clara when she returned home. The 2 months’ separation had given both of them time to think. She recognized the risks that accompanied his episodes of mental illness and recreational intoxication; but she also recognized the therapeutic and transcendent artistic effects that were achieved through those episodes. The music he produced during those episodes was deeply expressive; confessional; autobiographical, in a way that art so frequently is. In her personal correspondence, she also expressed a reluctance to arrange medical intervention to treat his condition; she expressed skepticism that any benefit would come from psychiatric interventions that were available in those years.

O f course [Ginsberg] had read Buddhist texts while he was writing ‘Howl’, and, with Kerouac as a spiritual guide, he took on the persona of the Buddhist holy man, a persona that helped infuse the poem with a sense of the absurd, inherent suffering of Life.”
  —  Jonah Raskin, American Scream, p. 228.
Robert’s music—this Op.41 No. 3 string quartet itself—is capable of producing a state of musical intoxication in its performers and listeners—more than merely ‘representing’ the mental states that had affected Schumann as he composed it, it can ‘project’ them. Clara recognized the tragic beauty and aesthetic value in this. And Clara’s generosity toward Robert and her discretion/valor may have led her to hold inside herself any misgivings she might have had about the ‘chemical’ provenance of Robert’s creativity. She had a lot of tolerance for people who used alcohol or were half-mad—her decision resembled children of alcoholics, who in order to maintain a balance clean up after others and compensate by maintaining order in their lives. To her, being a composer was a ‘sacramental’ vocation—and others around the gifted person were obliged (in her view) to compensate for and cope with and help that person actualize their artistic potential.

C omposing gives me great pleasure... There is nothing that surpasses the joy of creation, if only because through it one wins hours of self-forgetfulness [and communion with the Divine/Universe], when one lives in a world of sound.”
  —  Clara Schumann, Diary entry, 1841.
Moreover, Clara recognized that conservative, bourgeois ‘Biedermeier’ culture was likely to destroy creative people like Robert, whose needs or behavior fell outside of accepted social norms. She probably saw that, in the ‘manic’ phases of his bipolar illness, Robert was calmed by alcohol. It enabled him to sleep and to function in the company of friends and associates and to keep his episodic dysfunctional behavior within acceptable bounds.

Might not Robert Schumann’s creation of these quartets have been propelled by not just one thing (“I shall study Haydn and then I shall write string quartets that are not at all like Haydn’s.”) but by two or more motivations (including a wish to redeem himself and recover ‘face’ from a previous disagreement with Clara)? Might not Allen Ginsberg’s creation of ‘Howl’ have been propelled by more than one thing as well? Might not some of the ‘metrical dissonance’ features we hear in Op.41 No.3 (esp. in the first movement) have arisen because of the ‘phonological buffering’ and ‘working memory’ in Robert’s brain, which likely differed from the neurophysiology of working memory in ordinary people’s brains? Ginsberg, too. He was not bipolar, but was he maybe experiencing episodes of unipolar depression? Unipolar depression, Holy! Some of his writing, Denver stinking Rockland, Depressed! Concreteness abounding! Filth! Angels! The howling psychiatric panopticon! Punctate synoptic synapses! Fire, holy!

Harald Krebs discusses ‘metrical dissonance’ in his book (link below) as though it were entirely textual—‘in’ the literal musical text as-composed, and not influenced by performers’ interpretations or by variability in listeners’ cognitive and emotional states. I think the metrical dissonance was in the composers’ heads, and on the page, and now in the heads of the performers and the listeners. I think that the peculiar micropulse effects in Schumann’s Op.41 No.3 and in Hyla’s ‘Howl’ in fact manifest an abnormal 2-back and/or 3-back neurophysiological performance status—probably a correlate of anxiety, stress, and depression. These metrical dissonances we experience are The Art of Unrest. And many of us who experience these effects as intensely moving and ‘true’ do so because these timings are familiar to us—from our own previous experiences of internal unrest, or from our vicariously witnessing abnormalities in buffering and working memory and response-times/asynchrony that we’ve observed in depressed/stressed friends or loved ones—or, if you are a physician or nurse, observed in patients.

Consider the phrase repetitions in these pieces: how oblivious they are to the short-term history of utterances in the parts! How vividly they portray the anxiety/stress inside [the poet, the composer]! They feel like (are intended by the composer to feel like—) the expressions of individuals whose attentional systems have a diminished capacity due to stress. It feels like the brain’s episodic buffer in working memory has diminished capacity—else how to explain the involuntary repetitions and and reversals and intrusions and micropulse asynchrony? These pieces seem to me to be vivid expressions of the mental state and neuroanatomy of the composer/poet in a state of unrest.

CognitiveAtlas.org—system biology of neuropsychiatric disorders and cognitive function tests, like 3-back working-memory task
Clara Schumann’s caregiving may have been a bit like Allen Ginsberg’s caring for Carl Solomon. Both were nurturing troubled loved ones; coping with the suffering; writing vehemently about the injustice of it all. Ginsberg’s friend, Surrealist artist Carl Solomon (who is one of the main subjects of ‘Howl’), had bipolar depression, as did Robert Schumann. Solomon wanted to commit suicide (as did Robert Schumann, later), but Solomon thought that a suitably surreal, aesthetically-coherent suicide would be to ‘go to a mental hospital and demand a lobotomy’. The institution he presented himself to refused to comply, but instead undertook electroshock therapy (ECT) and treatment with various powerful antipsychotic/neuroleptic drugs. Much of the final section of the first part of ‘Howl’ is Ginsberg’s long rant about the horrors and irreversible injury these ‘treatments’ caused to his friend.


    [50-sec clip, Lee Hyla, ‘Howl—Footnote’, Kronos Quartet, 1.2MB MP3]
H oly! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
     Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
     The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand
     and asshole, holy!
Everything is holy! Everybody’s holy! everywhere is
     holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an
     angel!
The [sera-] bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
     holy, as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy, the voice is
     holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
     Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady Holy, the unknown buggered and suffering
     beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy, my mother in the insane asylum! Holy, the cocks
     of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy, the bop
     apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
     hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
     the cafeterias filled with the millions!
Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middle class!
Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
     Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
     Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
     clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
     the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
     locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
     abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
     bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
     kindness of the soul!”
  —  Allen Ginsberg, Howl, Footnote.
Harald Krebs
In listening to the Brentanos perform these two works back-to-back, it occurs to me that the psychology and the rhythmicity and the ‘metrical dissonance’ between the parts are all comparable: there are parallels between the Schumann Op. 41 No.3 quartet and the Hyla quartet, ones that can be recognized by techniques pioneered by music theorist Harald Krebs. In Krebs’s metrical analysis, the sense of meter emerges when we identify rhythmic ‘layers’. The rhythmic layers in a piece can be classified into three types: the ‘pulse’, ‘micropulse’, and ‘interpretive’ layers.

The ‘pulse’ layer is the fastest-moving pervasive series of pulses, usually arising from a prolonged series of attacks in the parts’ surface. In the several-bars example below from the second movement of Op.41 No.3, the pulse layer is the one comprised by the eighth notes—these are the quickest-moving and pervasive of the pulse series that are in there.

Schumann, String Quartet Op. 41 No. 3, Mvt. 2, mm. 193-196
An ‘interpretive’ layer is defined by Krebs as “a layer of motion that moves more slowly than the pulse layer and allows the listener to ‘interpret’ the raw data of the pulse layer by organizing its pulses into larger units.” In the top violin part of the few bars example from movement 2, the interpretive 6-layer is generated by the new-event accent on the downbeat of each new measure.

The so-called ‘micropulse’ layer—more rapid than the pulse layer—in Schumann’s string quartet Op.41 No.3 is accentuated by written asynchrony and also by rubato timing that’s skewed between the parts. It’s most evident in the first movement, but it’s present in the other movements as well. By contrast, in Hyla’s ‘Howl’, the micropulse layer is provided mainly by the narrator’s voice and its disparate timing with respect to the string parts. The narrator’s voice is just another ‘part’, after all.

Krebs book
W ith the various layers we also get interweaving tonics occuring in connection with Schumann’s tonal delays and blurred phrase boundaries in this quartet. (Peter Smith of the University of Notre Dame presented a paper at last year’s Society for Music Theory meeting concerning Schumann’s use of key-specific tonal pairs such as A-minor/F-major in the Op.41 No.1 string quartet; G-minor/E-flat major (e.g., Piano Quartet); and so on. But I don’t think ‘tonal pairs’ figure in Hyla’s design for ‘Howl’ and its tonal delays and phrase structure. The parallels drawn between the Hyla and the Schumann pieces must dwindle off somewhere!)

Clara Schumann, letter to Martha von Sabinin, APR-1854

  —  Clara Schumann, letter to Martha von Sabinin, APR-1854.
In summary, I am grateful for the technically flawless, beautiful Brentano String Quartet performance last night. Grateful for the excitement they created with this unusual program. And grateful, too, for the ‘epiphany’ that happened for me (why I wrote the paragraphs above) about the art of chamber music programming itself, in this program, The Art of Unrest. By that I mean that I am thankful for the novel ideas that can come from bold ensembles’ performing seemingly disparate pieces on a single program and for bold presenters’ sponsoring them. Last night, we got to hear and understand things [for example, inter-piece correspondences that shed new light on personal motives and human nature] that we would never otherwise have heard or understood. Cynthia Siebert’s introductory remarks to the audience before the performance helped everyone to understand how the human impact of unrest—personal strife; war and social strife—is revealed and explored by these pieces. A coherent package, affirming why serious music is exciting and relevant to all thoughtful people everywhere. Thank you, Brentano String Quartet!

Since the time of its founding in 1992, the Brentano String Quartet has appeared throughout the world to popular and critical acclaim. Over the years, the Quartet has been privileged to collaborate with such artists as soprano Jessye Norman, pianist Richard Goode, and pianist Mitsuko Uchida. Champions of new music as well as the traditional classical canon and early music, the Quartet has recorded the music of Steven Mackey, Bruce Adolphe, Chou Wen-chung, and Charles Wuorinen, and has commissioned many pieces as well, including works from Wuorinen, Adolphe, Mackey, David Horne and Gabriela Frank. Besides their busy travel and concert schedule, the Quartet’s duties as Resident String Quartet at the Princeton include workshops with graduate composers, coaching undergraduates in chamber music, and assisting in musicology, music theory, and other courses. The Quartet is named for Antonie Brentano, whom many scholars believe to have been Beethoven’s ‘Immortal Beloved’.

Howl, first edition cover, 1956, with introduction by William Carlos Williams
I ’m with you in Rockland [Columbia Presbyterian Hospital]
     where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul
     is innocent and immortal it should never die
     ungodly in an armed madhouse
I’m with you in Rockland
     where fifty more [ECT] shocks will never return your
     soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
     cross in the void.”
  —  Allen Ginsberg, Howl.
Ginsberg Howling, photo © Dale Smith

Raskin book


Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Chamber Music for Rome Burning: Brass Band and Pacifism

Foden’s Richardson Band
T he earth died screaming,
While I lay dreaming—
Dreaming of you.”
  —  Tom Waits, ‘Earth Died Screaming’.
I f you’re standing ‘outside’ [the community of brass-band players] looking in, [brass band] music could be misread as being aesthetically naïve. But those composers are fulfilling a function by providing well-crafted scores for a community that really wants them.”
  — Philip Clark, Review of Foden’s Brass Band ‘New Music for Brass Band’ CD, Gramophone, OCT-2008.
You may wonder what exactly Nero played while Rome burned. You may equally well wonder why he played it and what he was thinking and feeling as he did so. Sometimes there’s nothing that one can do. Never mind Nero and his nonfeasance. As the financial markets continue on their incendiary way, may I suggest that you will enjoy the unusual collection of ‘new music’ on the CD just released on NMC Records, by the Foden’s Richardson Brass Band, conducted by Bramwell Tovey? The 30-member ensemble explores fascinating territory that goes far beyond the idioms normally associated with ‘brass band’. And, in a way that I can only regard as ironic or clairvoyant or both, the music is perfectly matched to the ‘tropes’ that are in-play in the world of financial markets and central banking. Here on this superb CD is a kind of emotional catharsis that can only be found in brass band repertoire.

Bramwell Tovey
  • ‘While Rome Burns’ trope
    Something awful is happening. The world is ending, there’s an earthquake, there’re people leaping from buildings, there’s rioting in the streets. The ‘While Rome Burns’ person couldn’t care less. You’re still reading a book, playing or listening to music, posting and looking at blogs, whatever. Not that you approve of what’s going on—far from it; you just see the situation as futile. ‘While Rome Burns’ is the supertrope of ‘Dissonant Serenity’. Compare with ‘Holding Out For A Hero’ trope.
  • ‘Dissonant Serenity’ trope
    There’s maiming and killing afoot. Screaming and cursing, clatter of swords, bang of guns. Faces distorted with pain and hate, collective despair, fear and loathing. It’s terrifying, but it is to be expected. But you see peace in the middle of horror. You are smiling; not vicious, not insane, not stoic—but calm, gentle—almost enlightened. As the throats are slit left and right, you are in the eye of the storm, the calm center of destruction, and your serenity is so ‘off’ that it’s more terrifying than any fury. Villains and heroes can be dissonantly serene in battle mode, but it’s rarely the main character who does that. A closely related state of mind: the uncomprehending ‘Psychopathic Man-child’. The ‘Tranquil Fury’ trope seems similar but is very different in practice.
The Foden Motor Works Band was founded in 1902 and, phoenix-like, it has endured over the years under various and changing sponsorships, including Morris Motors, Overseas Technical Services Ltd., Britannia Building Society, Antoine Courtois Company, and Richardson Developments of Oldbury. To date, the illustrious Foden’s band has won the U.K. National Brass Band Championships twelve times.

This new CD has 14 wonderful tracks, with compositions by Richard Bennett, Kenneth Hesketh, and George Benjamin, Philip Wilby, Elgar Howarth, Michael Ball, Edward Gregson, plus Judith Bingham’s character pieces on Prague (St. Wenceslas Chapel, Wenceslas Square, Charles Bridge, Rabbi Low Creates the Golem). Righteous antidotes to our present societal terror.

Foden’s Richardson Band: New Music for Brass Band
Most interesting to me are the 6 variations on a theme by Michael Tippett—pieces composed by Philip Wilby, Elgar Howarth, Michael Ball, Edward Gregson, and Bramwell Tovey. These meditations reveal the astonishingly wide range of timbres and expressions of which brass band is capable. They reveal a surprising variety of communitarian and pacifistic views, for which Tippett was famous and which the composers of these variations/meditations here have honored. They additionally reveal a phlegmatic, unflappable attitude toward adverse events and toward authorities and elites that resonates deeply with the current state of affairs in the world. Having played in a brass band many years ago, I feel this is characteristic of idiomatic brass band literature—and of brass band members’ sociology and musicianship in-ensemble. Foden’s display this to the nth degree.

N o one could have guessed from looking at the score—and thinking of the thing [dismissively] as a ‘toccata’ for brass band—how beautiful and serious this work is, as abstract music.”
  — George Bernard Shaw, remark to Edward Elgar, upon hearing Elgar’s Severn Suite in competition on 27-SEP-1930.
So turn off the sound on your CNBC or BBC or whatever, and put on this disc at high-volume as you watch the financial catastrophe ‘crawl’ across the bottom of your television screen. Foden’s Richardson Brass Band is just the thing to ‘buck up’ your spirits.

Rome, Burning
During his lifetime Sir Michael Tippett (1905–1998) composed 5 string quartets, 4 piano sonatas, a sonata for 4 horns, and several other chamber works. He also composed a number of oratorios and cantatas. As a composer, Tippett was a late bloomer; he completed his compositions slowly. At age 30, he studied composition with Reginald Owen Morris at the Royal College of Music (after Morris’s return to London from his stint at Curtis Institute in Philadelphia).

Tippett was imprisoned as a conscientious objector/pacifist in WWII. Tippett’s mother was a charity-worker; her influence led him to have a lifelong identification with oppressed people and suffering. Tippett’s gayness probably figured in there as well...

Melismas—ones more ornate than are reasonable or practicable for voice, but entirely feasible for brass—plus rapid mensural/rhythmic changes where the metre is continually cast and recast—outside the norms that are set up in the rest of the work: these are here in abundance.

Mikhail Bakhtin’s dialogical conception of language—conceits like a ‘polyphonic novel’ and ‘double-voiced discourse’? In this wonderful Foden’s Richardson Brass Band CD we find that all of our utterances must be polyglot—syncretisms of every language that we’ve assimilated since birth. Just as the least stable kind of tonality has the strongest anti-tonal tendencies, so the least stable atonality is the kind that’s most inclined to abandon sound-mass totality in favor of a lyrical, neo-tonal individualism. Redefinition, deconstruction, and reconstruction of language out of its ashes. Bingham’s apocalyptic ‘Prague - St Wenceslas Chapel’; Wilby’s elegiac ‘Shadow Songs’.

Brass band repertoire is, I have felt, frequently conflictual—at the boundary of ‘us’ and ‘the other’; the music often explicitly points out this boundary. But brass band music is also frequently pacifistic or communitarian—displaying the emblems of class identity and ‘tutti’ solidarity with community. (Frank Bridge; Benjamin Britten; other pacifists? Granville Bantock; Harrison Birtwistle; Arthur Bliss; Derek Bourgeois; Arthur Butterworth; Simon Dobson; Edward Elgar; Edward Gregson; Hans Werner Henze; Gustav Holst; Herbert Howells; George Lloyd; William Mathias; John McCabe; Edmund Rubbra; Robert Simpson; Phyllis Tate; Ralph Vaughan Williams?) The ensemble may be ‘instrumental’, but its gestures and social behaviors are essentially ‘choral’

T ippett has everyday words ‘Let’s go!’, sung by the disenfranchised Man and Woman characters, interrupting the madrigalian setting of lines borrowed from Milton’s Paradise Lost (‘This was the everlasting place of dreams.’). [And Tippett’s compositions for brass came from the same pen and they manifest this same world view. dsm].”
  — David Clarke, Music and Thought of Michael Tippett, p. 162.
As Julian Johnson has written, the Enlightenment, which conferred autonomy on humans, also produced a “model of man that was cut-off from the world around him,” alienated “by the mechanistic and atomistic implications of Enlightenment theory.” Was Tippett cut off? (Am I feeling [financially] ‘cut off’? Is brass band repertoire necessarily the language of aesthetically capable phlegmatic stalwarts?)

David Clarke (see book links below) holds that Michael Tippett was composing in a post-Enlightenment mode, embracing a ‘romantic, humanistic agenda’ not unlike that of Kant, Hegel, and other philosophers who aimed to restore a oneness with Nature. But Tippett, according to Clarke, also engaged in life-long relentless self-criticism and, in his operas and other compositions, created parts that enabled ‘post-humanist’ voices to speak—uniquely highlighting the limitations and failures of romanticism. Tippett repeatedly collides classical ideals with materialist realities.

Music historian Arnold Whittall once referred to Tippett as a ‘post-romantic modern’ (‘Is there a choice at all?: King Priam and motives for analysis,’ in Tippett Studies, Cambridge Univ, 2006, p. 77). But, in this Foden’s-Bramwell Tovey outing, maybe Tippett is closer to a ‘post-modern anti-romantic’. Yes, that is why this music feels so compelling, so poignant and timely right now.

W   hile we would need to be cautious about positing a postmodern dimension to Tippett’s thinking, the kind of connections I have been exploring [in this book] suggest that the aesthetic mutations of his late works are not unrelated to certain of the more radical and fruitful avenues of that problematic cultural paradigm.”
  —  David Clarke, Music and Thought of Michael Tippett, p. 269.
What especially pleases me in listening to this CD during this awful, catastrophic week are these works’ expression of an ineffable soundworld that is simultaneously tonal and post-tonal—full of melodic tonal writing, but with fragmentation, textural strata, and purpose-built melodic disjunctions that match my dark mood—miraculously healing it. There are ruptures with the premises of tonality, but the departures from tonality turn out not to be permanent—they eventually return us to orderly, diatonic lyricism. So, by implication, we sense that, regardless what happens to our collieries in one decade, our motor works in another decade, our financial institutions and markets in this decade, our cities, our governments, our environment, and so on in future decades—human beings (and brass bands, and the arts, and civilized culture in general) will somehow survive.

Up-coming performances by Foden’s Richardson Brass Band include:
David Clarke, Tippett book

Emperor Nero (U.S. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson, after The Fall?)