jwilzewske: relevance

Showing posts with label relevance. Show all posts

Thursday, May 17, 2012

MUS-501 final exam question: Late Schumann Lieder were hip-hop anthems. Evidence? Discuss.

I n 1989’s ‘Fight the Power’, Public Enemy’s Chuck D spits a working definition of rhyme’s reason: ‘As the rhythm’s designed to bounce / What counts ... is that the rhyme’s / Designed to fill your mind.’ He is speaking of ‘rhyme’ here both as the practice of patterning sounds and as a name for the verse as a whole. In both meanings, rap’s rhymes have filled our minds with many things, not all of them good. But it is more than a matter of content—be it women and cars or prisons with bars; it is also a question of poetic form.”
— Adam Bradley, p. 55.

T he prominence of dark themes in Schumann’s lieder in 1851 and later, featuring violent language and desultory circumstances and the characters’ defiant reactions to them, is strong evidence in favor of this thesis. Likewise, there is a radically different relationship between the music and the text compared to Schumann’s earlier lieder: in the late lieder there is a much stronger emphasis on syllabic stresses, on rhyme, and on systolic pulsatility of the voice strongly sync’ed to the instrumental beat. Schumann’s settings of Kullmann poems especially are, essentially, rap over music.

D ominated by the energy of insistent repetition—from perfect rhymes to assonance and consonance—delivering on the promise... apocopated rhymes, where a one-syllable word rhymes with the stressed portion of a multisyllabic word. He matches the first line’s monosyllabic internal rhymes ‘last’ and ‘blast’ with an apocopated rhyme ‘fastball’ on the next line. He does the same thing in reverse with another rhyme as well—using ‘hit’ to rhyme with ‘splitter’. This creates a structure that binds the two lines together... almost every word is doing some kind of rhyme work... using rhyme to fashion rhythm.”
— Adam Bradley, p. 62.

Und die mich trug im Mutterarm	And she who carried me in arms
Und die mich schwang in Kissen	And rock me in the nest
Die war ein schön, froh, braunes Weiß	She was beautiful, happy, *red*—hot—but
Wollte nichts vom Mannsvolk wissen	She never want to mess
Sie scherzte nur und lachte laut	‘Round... She only joke and laugh,
Und liess die Freier stehen.	Dissin’ those who hit on her.
„Möcht’ lieber sein des Windes Braut	“I’d rather be fucked by da wind
Als in die Ehe geh’n!”	Than have sex with any of you!”
Da kam der Wind, da nahm der Wind	And dat wind came, and dat wind chose,
Als Buhle sie gefangen,	And beat her and rape her too,
Von dem hat sie ein lustig Kind,	And that how she birthed me, packin’ heat.
Jung Volker, mich, empfangen.	Know dis: Jung Volker is my name.
—Eduard Mörike (1804-1875)	Op. 125, No. 4 (1851)

P ianist Graham Johnson maintains that Dichterliebe (Op. 48) contains what is arguably “the nearest thing in lieder to the modern phenomenon of ‘rap’ ” (liner notes to Vol 3, Hyperion CDA67676, pp. 101-2, specifically regarding ‘Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen’, No. 11, a song about a young man’s rejection by the woman he loves). In my opinion, dubstep is the sound that Schumann was going for, instead of brostep. And a ducking ‘pump’ sound that you hear in techno and electro that comes from side-chaining. That and electro house drums. Kind of a ‘dark garage’ hip-hop dubstep with kicked-up bass. The late lieder would be great with custom Ableton controllers for that sound. Don’t get that on no Hyperion CD, though!

C ogan’s timbral reading of a piece is informed by the words sung in the performance. In his ‘Sounds of Song’, Cogan compares spectrographs of four recordings of Robert Schumann’s ‘Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet,’ a song he describes as ‘always obsessive, but uncertain, lost — quite literally traumatic.’ ”
— Smith Reed, Univ Pittsburgh, 2005.

Der leidige Frieden	Peace make me nervous,
Hat lange gewährt—	It last too long—
Wir waren geschieden,	We ‘part for weeks,
Mein gutes Schwert!	My blade, its song!
Derweil ich gekostet	Down in the cellar
Im Keller den Wein—	I drink dat wine—
Hingst du verrostet	You hanging rusty
An der Wand allein.	By the wall, bidin’ your time.
Von Sorte zu Sorte	Each juice
Probiert’ ich den Wein—	I tasted when my turn to—
Indessen dorrte:	Meantime, dat blood:
Das Blut dir ein.	It’s dried on *you*.
Ist endlich entglommen	Battle when you right
Der heisse Streit,	Ain’t no crime—
Mein Schwert, und gekommen	Blade, here comes
Ist dein Zeit.	Your thirsty time.
Ich geb’ deiner Klingen,	Wipe some more,
Den blanken Schliff:	You bright, smooth steel:
Ich lasse dich singen	I let you rap
Den Todespfiff.	Your deadly spiel.
Im Pulvernebel	In gunpowder haze
Die Arbeit rauscht—	You slash, rip steep—
Wir haben, o Säbel,	You ’n’ me, Blade,
Die Freuden getauscht.	We put ’em all deep.
Im brausenden Moste,	In foamin’ wine,
Mein durstiges Erz	Blade thirsty and smart,
Betrinke dich, koste	Drink deep and taste
Von Herz zu Herz;	From heart to heart;
Derweil du gekostet	While you’ve been tastin’
Das rote Blut,	Your crimson blood,
Is mir eingerostet,	My throat—it’s parched,
Der Hals vor Glut.	Waitin’ for a flood.
—Nikolaus Lenau (1802-1850)	Op. 117, No. 2 (1851)

O bscure poems that portray dysfunctional or oppressive gender relations, cars and money or jewels, and weapons—a throw-away objectification of people and ‘live-for-the-moment’ violent materialism—are also characteristic of these late Schumann lieder, in a fashion that presages modern hip-hop themes and postures. Braggadocio and lyrics that proclaim the singer’s greatness—these appear in Op. 117, Op. 104, and others.

W hile rap may be new-school music, it is old-school poetry. Rather than resembling the dominant contemporary form of free verse—or even the freeform structure of its hip-hop cousin, spoken word, or slam poetry—rap bears a stronger affinity to some of poetry’s oldest forms, such as strong-stress meter of ‘Beowulf’. As in metrical verse, the lengths of rap’s lines are governed by established rhythms—in rap’s case, the rhythm of the beat itself.”
— Adam Bradley, p. xv.

Du nennst mich armes Mädchen	“Po’ ho’,” you call me;
Du irrst! Ich bin nicht arm!	You full o’ shit! I’m not po’!
Entress dich, Neugier halber,	Wake up, you pimp,
Einmal des Schlafes Arm und schau’	from yo’ drunk-ass sleep,
Mein niedres Hüttchen	An’ look at my mansion
Wenn sich die Sonne	Wit da paradise sunrise
Hold am Morgenhimmel hebet:	When da morning sun come to me:
Sein Dach ist reines Gold!	Dat roof is pure gold!
Komm’ Abends, wann die Sonne,	Or come in da evening when da sun,
Bereits zum Meere sinkt,	Sinking in da sea,
Und sieh’ mein einzig Fenster,	See only my window,
Wie’s von Topasen blinkt!	Sparklin’ wit da topaz jewelz!
Du nennst mich armes Mädchen	“Po’ ho’,” you call me;
Du irrst! Ich bin nicht arm!	You full o’ shit! I’m not po’!
—Elisabeth Kuhlmann (1808-1824)	Op. 104, No. 3 (1851)

E mblematic of all rap music is constructing an image of power through gestural cues, which may be in the words or the music or both. The cues include punched-up rhythms and phrases about money, expensive clothing, jewelry, killing and dying, and going places and doing things. Late Schumann lieder got those!

T he situational exigencies of late Schumann lieder are accessible to anyone whose mind is open, and are not dependent on exterior markers for their manifestation. Instead, they are rooted in demonstrating values in interacting with others—values such as defiance, aggression, and action; support, mutuality, and reflection—‘power over’; ‘power with’. Don’t need no fancy or subtle analysis to identify features of hip-hop in late Schumann. Jus’ need to open our minds to the sonic and textual evidence that’s right there in front of us.

T wo hundred years ago popular music and art music were joined at the hip. Beethoven’s works and the birth of the Romantic Era coincided with the rise of the middle classes. Franz Schubert and Robert Schumann composed lieder that could be sung and played in the home by amateur musicians. At the same time that the middle classes expanded, they received a more formalized and substantial education and formulated an idea of art and music. The masses were able to sing and play music that did not require the same technical ability as music that one would ﬁnd in the concert hall, but was more suited for the salon. The music was ‘attainable’, and it featured poetic verses with melodies that were relatively easy to sing.”
— Gabe Kanengiser.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

New Music ‘Expectations’ vs. ‘Expectancy’: George Perle

H is [Perle’s] pieces also raise what has become a confusing question: What do classical composers writing music like this expect from listeners?”
— Bernard Holland, NYT, 20-MAY-2008.

W hat do composers writing music like this expect from listeners? They expect nothing, except honesty and an open mind. They don’t expect charity or an unearned free ride. They expect no more ‘smarts’ than the curiosity one finds in cats watching ambient television in their owner’s house, for free. We self-select, those of us who are transfixed like cats, enthralled by Perle’s music. There is a contrary self-selection, too, by those who aren’t even mildly curious about what it is or how it works or what it might mean or what comes next. Honestly confessing to ‘not liking’ something is fine. And calling it a different language, as Holland does, is also fine. But choosing not to attend to a language, and impugning the comprehensibility of the language and those who speak and write it, and justifying one’s position by asserting the inevitable, righteous marginality/disenfranchisement of the shunned language—as Holland does—are indefensible, xenophobic choices. If we follow Holland’s lead, I guess we need not bother to learn Tlingit, or Monguor, or Southern Tiwa—because there are only a few hundred speakers of those, the languages are dying anyway, and the songs and the ideas they are about seem nasty or irrelevant to classical Euro-centric white metro consumption-crazed culture.”
— DSM.

I t is true that in the natural course of things, languages, like everything else, sometimes die. People choose, for a variety of valid social reasons, not to teach their children their own mother tongue. In the case of American Indian languages, however, the language drop-off has been artificially induced and precipitous, and just as with the human-caused endangered species crisis, it is worth doing something about it. Amerindian languages were deliberately destroyed, particularly in North America. In the earlier days of European contact, Indians were separated from their linguistic kin and resettled hundreds of miles away with individuals from other tribes who couldn’t understand each other. Historically, this is the single most effective way to eliminate minority languages (for obvious imperialistic reasons).”
— Laura Redish, NativeLanguages.org.

Bernard Holland, one of the New York Times’s music critics, repeatedly bashes new music and composers of new music every few months or so. His piece on George Perle in Sunday’s NYT is another installment. Holland’s rants generally exhort composers to create audience-friendly works, works of ready-made ‘relevance’ for unprepared general audiences—as if doing so will somehow solve classical music’s sales and marketing problems in this era of mass-media consumerism. Holland, the staunch advocate for a Tyranny of Mass-Market Relevance.

I will continue to read Bernard, even though these anti-new music attitudes of his annoy me—and annoy Greg Sandow, Frank Oteri, David McMullin, and almost anyone who is composing or performing or attending or buying and experiencing new music.

But I think of these experiences differently from Holland. I think of them as explorations. An opportunity to hear, or perform, or write new music is a form of exploration, or art tourism, or musical anthropological adventure, into virtual cultures that are infrequently visited by ‘civilized’ consumeristic/capitalistic people. The ‘aboriginal’ musicians are spontaneously doing and creating what they do—not as though they have never encountered white men [of Bernard Holland’s imperial ilk] before, but as though they need to do it for their own real, honest, indigenous reasons.

In fact, they (we) are quite interested in trade with people from other ‘lands’. We welcome the visitors. But commercial trade with them is not what makes us most of us tick. And we are not about to allow ourselves to be subjugated by them. We don’t intend to end up making derivative ‘musical trinkets’ or commodities catering to the needs and mass-market aspirations of imperialists.

I write music that I intend to be beautiful, and I hope that it will please listeners. My strange idea of beauty may not resonate as widely as Bach’s or Britney Spears’, but it’s what I have to offer, and it doesn’t mean I hate my audience. All I ask of listeners is an open mind.”
— David McMullin, American Composers’ Forum.

And, in general, we who do new music are not ‘defying’ anything, any more or less than any genuine indigenous culture is ‘defying’ a dominant-culture with which it comes into contact. We refuse to be tyrannized by the dominant out-culture’s traditions or expectations. Nor are we self-tyrannized by an obsession to always be ‘new’, in a way that deliberately, perversely races ahead of any audience’s ability to comprehend or enjoy, in the manner that Holland implies. We know that radical novelty in and of itself is no guarantee of meaningfulness or value.

Bernard Holland is right about one thing: we do create new languages—ones that he simply prefers not to learn and sees no possibility of enjoying and damns by faint praise.

I can speak only the languages I was born to. Sometimes I feel guilty. Maybe I should work harder at [Perle’s] grammar and vocabulary. With age I feel guilty less and less [about my indolent attitude toward new music].”
— Bernard Holland, New York Times, 20-APR-2008.

We invent things. It’s what we do; it’s what we have to offer. And, to be worthy of the Patent Office’s term ‘invention’, by definition the things must be novel, non-obvious, and valuable—valuable to future societies, if not to the ones that exist right now. To be worthy of the term ‘invention’, by definition not everyone will have thought of it or immediately think it’s ‘fun’.

A ‘language’ is a dialect with an army and a navy. [And anything lacking military force is merely a ‘dialect’ to be dismissed, not reckoned with.]”
— Max Weinreich, 1945.

Language extinctions:

497 languages are projected to become extinct within 15 years;
~3,000 will be lost within a generation [David W. Lightfoot, NSF data].

North America:

700 languages in 1492 C.E.;
Now only 162 have living speakers;
75 are now spoken only by a handful of elderly;
Only 12 languages are spoken by more than 10,000 people;
100 languages spoken in the Arctic but dramatic changes over the last 40 years [e.g., Tlingit, Tsimshian, Haida].

George Perle himself gave the best answer, to Bernard Holland’s question as to what composers expect:

Y ou should approach a new piece the same way in which you would any other new experience—with a sense of curiosity, and with the hope that it will be a challenging, interesting, and exciting experience ... When I first came to San Francisco to take up my post as composer-in-residence, I was introduced to the symphony’s board of governors. One of them asked me, ‘Is your music fun to listen to?’ When you see a new piece on the program, you have a right to hope that it will be fun to listen to. There is a very good chance that you will be disappointed. There must be ten times as many young composers around today as there were when I was a young composer. The only aim that I can discern in the music of some of them is not to offend anyone by offering him music that he might not find entirely obvious at a first hearing, so they give you second-hand versions of Debussy, or Mahler, or early Stravinsky, or even Vivaldi. Second-hand versions of anything are a bore, which is itself an offense, to my way of thinking, but the new piece is rarely allowed to last more than ten minutes, and so you put up with it, and both you and the management of the orchestra feel that they have done their part in furthering the cause of contemporary music. I ask you to expect much more from new music, and to be prepared to recognize the difference when the real thing comes along. And I think you will recognize the difference ... The older music that is an important part of your lives represents only a selected and very limited portion of the music of any particular period. It is music that has stood the test of time, which only means that it is music your predecessors have culled out of the music of the past. You should be intrigued and challenged by the notion that you, too, will be playing a similar role in the unfolding of music history. It seems to me that nothing can be more important for the future of that history than the relation that you establish to the music of your contemporaries.”
— George Perle, Commencement address, San Francisco Conservatory of Music, May, 1991.

Composers hope for open minds, for expectancy. We hope to be accorded the dignity and respect that anthropologists should give to any culture. Each of us is, after all, our own far-away ‘land’, lacking an army or navy.