While the composer’s approach to the art of notating music is quite different than conventional Western techniques, there are striking parallels between his method and the system I devised at the beginning of the semester for notating Columba aspexit by Hildegard de Bingen. Changes in pitch and dynamics were represented by the literal mapping of changes in register and octave through lines of varying elevations. Although the musical cartography of his piece is subject to numerous if not infinite interpretations, the segmented and varied elevations of the musical lines give the performer certain indications regarding the variation of dynamics and melodic progression. Since our performance is largely percussion based, rather than interpreting the varied highness and lowness of the musical segments in melodic terms, which are not clearly divided into measures one might add, the written shape of the piece is reflected in dynamics and tempo changes.

            The most difficult elements of the transcribed piece seem evident in the chosen numerical markings, which we chose to interpret as variations in tempo and feel as performed by the foundational layer of percussion. With an appointed conductor for our piece, who also plays a dominant role in the rhythmic direction of the performance, the higher numbers were set to correspond to faster tempos, while the superscripted numbers represented a tempo for the second background percussion part. In addition to this rather complex and nebulous numerical marking system, the textual markings for the specific parts of the music created similar difficulties for the performers. We chose to assign each segment, with different linguistic markings, to a particular instrument, and the gaps between written parts were filled with vocal sounds reflecting wind to fill these measures of instrumental rest. It ultimately seems that his method of notation is less restrictive in terms of melodic texture and layering, making it subject to a very unique and nuanced performance on the part of the musicians involved. While it was difficult to fully grasp the conceptual contours of the piece, we constructed our own rather rigid system to perform the notated markings in a cohesive musical expression.     

            Mark Tucker’s article “Porgy and Miles” demonstrates tremendous insight as it paints a portrait of the historical setting from which the Gil Evans arrangements of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess emerged. These recordings feature what many may consider to be a more restrained, melodic performance on the part of Miles Davis in comparison to the flamboyance evident in his more experimental, free jazz phases that transgressed the conceptions of jazz held by many of contemporaries. With the historical context of the Civil Rights Movement in mind, Gershwin’s “folk opera” had to be reconsidered in a way that would shed more tasteful light on the representation of African American culture. With the reigns in the hands of Miles Davis, he and his big band ensemble were empowered in a way that allowed them to transform backward depictions of the rift between a rigidly Black and White society into more progressive cultural symbols. Miles also had the ability to present a different perspective as he chose to reinterpret aspects of African American culture that were somewhat foreign to himself, as his upbringing in a financially stable family in Illinois was much different than those of the characters in the Gershwin opera.

In Gil Evan’s arrangements of George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, a highly pronounced contrast becomes apparent when Miles Davis’ performance on these recordings is compared to his other big band and smaller jazz combo musical phases. Miles’ playing seems worlds removed from where his playing would ultimately take him much later in his career with free jazz and funk-influenced fusion. The idiosyncrasies in his playing on the Porgy and Bess recordings appear to have their roots much more in blues than other genres however, which complements the ensemble arrangements and gives his solos a more vocal quality. It is interesting how Mark Tucker points out: “the striking quality that permeates the album is ambiguity: it's not clear to the listener whether Davis and Evans are retelling the opera's story of love and loss on Catfish Row or spinning a different tale altogether, offering views of their own lives and times in late-1950s America” (14). This somewhat vague interplay between the original arrangements and those of Davis and Evans in conjunction with the social landscape of this era in American History surfaces throughout their rendition of the opera, as Tucker illustrates: “Partly, the ambiguity results from the instrumental performance of a texted vocal work; removing the words puts distance between the jazz recomposition and the opera's original setting and plot” (14). In many ways, the instrumental arrangements, despite their lack of a vocal layer in the musical texture, reveal an added complexity that provokes a greater depth of exploration on the part of the listener.

            Mark Tucker sheds considerable light on this cross-cultural musical interpretation that transcends historical period when he writes: “Gershwin's melodies take on new colors and shapes in this environment – as though familiar garden flowers had undergone exotic mutation after being transplanted to the soil of another planet.” If one sought to see these recordings transplanted yet again to another planet, it would have been intriguing to see how Miles and his electric band of the early 1970s consisting of avant-garde players like Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette, and Dave Holland would have rethought the “folk opera” of a half century prior.

            In the horrifying depictions of the Vietnam War that emerge in Francis Ford Coppola’s cinematic masterpiece Apocalypse Now, one immediately notices that this conflict was not merely rooted in a rift between various political systems, but was a harsh clash of Western and Eastern ideologies. It thus seems quite appropriate that in this scene that reveals the American side ravaging a small village that the musical accompaniment is Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” which is undoubtedly one of the seminal works of the Western Musical Canon. It is intriguing how the role of the music in this scene is not a mere selection of the director to accompany the scene, but is actively introduced by a central character as a piece that contributes to the intensity of the mission.

            A number parallels have been drawn between Apocalypse Now and Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, which reveal Kurtz’ entrance into the ostensibly savage world of the jungle that leads to a phenomenon known as the “fascination of the abomination,” in which he becomes overtaken by the “primitivism” of his surroundings. In this comparison, the cultural settings of the East and the West form a dichotomy that becomes evident in the “Ride of the Valkyries” scene, though Kurtz’ presence in the jungle is not observed.  A harsh contrast becomes apparent between the silence of the village and the wave of sound that the Americans bring. It is equally appalling and intriguing to explore the role that the music serves as the troops carry out their hostile overtaking of the village. The epic scale of this piece from Wagner’s Grand Opera Der Ring des Nibelungen allows the individuals to transcend the carnage caused by their violent acts and take on the identities of gods carrying out a divine duty.

The use of this piece and others of Wagner in German nationalist movements of the Twentieth Century also contributes to the symbolic usage of the piece in the context of this scene from Apocalypse Now. The director could be making this subtle reference to German nationalism, which shifted into fascism, as a form of critique of America’s involvement in the Vietnam War. There is a kind of sinister irony in the musical accompaniment to these atrocities that causes the viewer to question what types of cultural baggage this piece carries and why is it appropriate in this instance. Because this piece and so many of Wagner’s have been used in vastly different contexts, it is a wonder what particular influences that project meaning on the “Ride of the Valkyries” are truly at play in scene that explores a violent clash between the East and the West.

The “Symphonie Fantastique” of Hector Berlioz is a piece of tremendous breadth in terms of thematic expression, as one might gather from the title, which does not connote triviality. The emotional scale of the piece is perhaps what gives it such epic magnitude, with portions that capture the monumental concerns of mortality, alongside other more whimsical and youthful segments. Although there is inherently a great deal of artistic license placed in the hands of Berlioz, in that the piece is instrumental and not lyrically driven like the verse in Goethe’s The Tragedy of Faust, the musical interpretation captures a great deal of the thematic weight of Goethe’s tragic work. After examining several passages from the Goethe text, it reveals a number of stylistic qualities that have not only an epic grandeur, but also sinister and supernatural elements as well. While it may be difficult, with the exception of the Dies irae segment, to pinpoint precisely where the written text corresponds to musical measures, there is a broader thematic unity between the two artistic forms.

Goethe’s verse extends beyond mundane perceptions of reality and enters an ethereal realm, one that is plagued by the burdens of mortality. The imagery that he lyrically paints creates an otherworldly setting that illuminates the transcendental relationship between humans and nature. The characters’ mystical interactions with the natural world are apparent when Mephistopheles remarks: “Now grasp my doublet – we at last/ A central peak have reached, which shows, / If round a wondering glance we cast, / How in the mountain Mammon glows” (Goethe, p. 63). Throughout the “Symphonie Fantastique” there is a great deal of vertical movement apparent in the rapidly ascending and descending scalar lines as well dynamically with crescendos and diminuendos. These musical elements demonstrate an inextricable link between the vivid descriptions of Goethe and the Berlioz composition. A similar notion of monumental shifts in physical elevation are apparent in Faust’s reply Mephistopheles: “How through the chasms strangely gleams, / A lurid light, like dawn’s red glow, / Pervading with its quivering beams, / The gorges of the gulf below! / Here vapours rise, there clouds float by, / Here through the mist the light doth shine” (Goethe, p. 63). The depictions of “light” and “vapour” also contribute to the ethereal nature of his romantic imagery. One could liken the use of higher brass in the musical interpretation to “light” and the lower woodwinds perhaps to “vapour.”

            While it becomes vividly apparent that there is a thematic relationship between The Tragedy of Faust and the “Symphonie Fantastique,” it is a wonder whether an analysis of this variety limits the listeners’ rights to interpret the music from their own varying perspectives. Similarly, if one approaches the Goethe text while humming the “Symphonie Fantastique,” it is unclear to what extent this skews the interpretation of the tragic literary work. Perhaps this linkage between literature and musical composition does enrich the interpretation of both though, and makes Romanticism a movement that transcends individual artistic media.    

            Upon listening to "Madamina, il catelogo e questo" for the first time, I was struck by the cohesive thematic movements in the piece. As one might expect to hear in the recording of a dramatic musical performance, there is an inseparable link between the uttered words of the performer and the instrumental expression of the accompanying musicians. The tone and technical idiosyncrasies in the performer's vocal projections demonstrate oneness with the musical progression of the piece. More specifically, one oftentimes witnesses vocal and instrumental parallels in staccato or legato tones. Without an understanding of Italian, I was afforded the opportunity to experience the musical performance in a strictly aural way, without focusing primarily on the lyrical elements of the piece. Without the distraction of lyrical awareness, the music and vocals provoke a unique emotional response. 

            The listener is presented with dynamic shifts in mood, in which the passionate embellishments of the vocalist are reflected by complementary instrumental patterns. When a great deal of tension builds up in a portion of the piece, there is oftentimes a sense of unrestrained release with a penetrating accent, or occasional sforzando. The audience seeks catharsis, and the emotional dynamism of the performer brings the listener into the manic emotional sphere of his dilemmas to a point of overwhelming tension. In this manner, the changes in dynamics are drastic, and reflect this magnificent arch of emotion. The vocal performance displays sharp, staccato measures of fury followed immediately by poignant segments of what seem like longing nostalgia. A notable technique that the musicians employ in order to reflect the vocalist's performance is the use of rapid trills to reflect vibrato in the vocal line.

            Without a comprehensive understanding of Italian, the listener enters the psyche of the performer on a plane that transcends language. The intense passions of the performer are expressed in ornate flourishes of sound, not merely in the performed text and score. In many ways, listening to an aria such as this is a more direct sensory experience, in that it is less cerebral and considerably more visceral. The performer's tones of fury and ecstasy cause me to tremble, though I lack an awareness of the language. It is overwhelmingly apparent when I listen to this piece that passions are oftentimes more accurately conveyed not in words themselves, but in the sounds that the performer produces to express a lyrical sequence.

            The night of October 19^th was one of the most diverse musical experiences of my life thus far. It was not limited to the Bach vs. Telemann Concert, which was quite an impressive display, but also included my watching a video of Miles Davis live at the Isle of Wight Festival during the summer of 1970. Although many will point out the stark stylistic contrasts between these two forms of musical expression, it seems that a few striking parallels emerge when one thinks about how both Baroque Concerto and Experimental Jazz feature solo performers in the context of a larger musical ensemble.

There is no denying that there is considerably more focus on form in the composition of a Concerto than in the experimental improvisations of Jazz in its later stages. In the time of Bach and Telemann though, it was more of an obligation to conform to particular musical and social conventions in order to appease the patrons who commissioned their compositions. This is not to say, however, that they did not revolutionize musical composition in their era, but simply suggests that they were not in a time period that would have been open to a complete deconstruction of musical form. Miles Davis, on the other hand, intrepidly expanded the boundaries of Jazz and succeeded in deconstructing the art of Jazz performance, yet also contributing to its evolution.

While the Baroque Orchestra is a cohesive group of musicians that expresses quite directly the intentions of the composer, the individual musicians undoubtedly have a capacity to expose their unique virtuosity and bend the composer's written score. Displays of this type of individual talent were evident in the Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 in G major, especially in the Presto, which demonstrated the solo violist ripping through thirty-second notes in a show of sublimely skillful execution. In the Concerto in D minor for two violins, there was a spectacular cadenza in the Allegro which illustrated seemingly more improvisational solos in free time by the harpsichord and soloing violins that traded soloing portions. In many ways this technique of featuring particular performers in less scripted parts of a piece is very much like the practice of "trading fours" in jazz, in which two or more instruments alternate solos of four measures each.

When one thinks about the interactions between the musicians that are not entirely scripted, there is a notion that the ensemble is a single, cohesive mind of musical expression. It was evident when viewing the Miles Davis video that there is a link between the musicians on a type of transcendent musical plane. Although their solos would reveal tremendously tangential ruptures that deviated from the jazz standard, when they would transition to a different piece, there was a supreme reemergence of continuity and unison. The stage during a musical performance often lends itself to what seems an other worldly realm, in which the individual musician at times loses a sense of self and blends into a fluid body of unified sound.

Watching the Baroque musicians perform as a cohesive musical ensemble revealed a oneness in their physical movements as well as an intimate link between the harpsichord and the players that surrounded her. As the foundational force of the Baroque musical group, the harpsicord established the direction of their performance. Within the individual musical sections, notably the violins and cellos, there was a type of mental harmony between the players that placed them in perfect unison both in the musical notes that they produced as well as in their physical gestures.

I found that our discussions of Baroque conventions in composition, especially those associated with Bach in his Brandenburg Concertos, contributed a great deal to my understanding and enjoyment of the performance. Observing the live performance of the recorder and Baroque flute was also an ideal way to extend my musical awareness of how the Baroque musical ensemble functioned beyond the boundaries of a musical recording. I undoubtedly have varied reactions to live musical performances depending on the genre that is performed, but I found that there were moments during the Brandenburg Concertos when I was moved to tremor in the presence of the sonorous projection of these musical arrangements. 

            After viewing and listening to the FunTwo rendition of Pachelbel's Canon in D, I have trouble determining precisely how I feel about his reinterpretation of such a seminal piece of Western music. It is at the same time an overt bastardization of a classic piece, yet is bizarrely impressive if strictly his technical proficiency, or perhaps even virtuosity is considered. I am by no means appalled by all attempts to transform classics and place them in the context of modern musical expression. I just feel that NPR's treatment of this internet phenomenon is not necessarily accurate. I think that they use the popularity of the video as a means to legitimize it as a type of modern masterpiece.

It is not my intent to belittle the performer or his interpretation, for it is undoubtedly a demonstration of tremendous musical ability and innovation. To commend FunTwo for his "taste" may be a bit of a stretch though. Had this been produced in the 1980s, while the hair band scene was thriving, it could have been described as a slightly more tasteful modern interpretation of Canon in D. What makes the emergence of this video striking, and sort of intriguing in a way, is how anachronistic it is when viewed today. The physical features of his guitar and the amplification settings are clearly modeled from the Van Halen school of screaming guitar solos.

 These stylistic parallels are representative of how cultural phenomena have the potential to shift from West to East, or vice versa, at different rates and sink in at different depths over time. The nature of his rendition makes me wonder at what point this genre of eighties rock arrived on the musical scene in East Asia. Was it perhaps earlier than one would expect that this musical style traveled to South Korea, and his attachment to this form of electric guitar is nostalgic? It is perhaps more likely that his penchant for solo guitar of this variety was inspired by a recent spark in public appeal and appreciation for raucous rock guitar solos.

To conclude, this musical performance should undoubtedly be analyzed from a number of different angles, including ones that I failed to consider. This interpretation of Pachelbel's Canon in D must be critiqued in terms of its innovation and technical proficiency, and it may be unjust to take stances on the apparent taste, or lack there of, present in his performance. The cultural context in which he trained himself to play with such virtuosity remains unfamiliar upon superficial examination. If the roots of his musical education and his exposure to movements in Western music are taken into consideration, it is likely that this criticism has been unduly harsh and that his rendition is perhaps more progressive than one would think.

Although I am certainly not an expert on the musical art of opera, I have attended several performances in the past and watched video recordings of a few operas in previous music classes. In contemporary society, especially in the urban world, the opera has become a very distinct cultural icon. For the most part, it has represented cultural sophistication, and because it has become associated with very highbrow entertainment, it has been made to seem inaccessible to the masses. The reality of the opera though, when the content is considered, can oftentimes be quite the opposite, focusing on common events and issues that nearly all members of society face. Another factor that has made the opera an acquired taste, one for which I have not fully developed a passion, is that there is quite often a language barrier that alienates the audience from the performers.

            With these issues in mind, it seems that the way that an individual can truly connect with the events and people in the world of an opera must be through emotion. The mother of a friend of mine from high school was a talented opera singer who did many performances in Pittsburgh as well as in other parts of the world. There were a few occasions when I got to see her on stage, passionately belting out musical lines in Italian or German with her mighty alto voice, and seeing her perform really captured my interest. Without having a prior connection to the performer though, I would have inevitably gotten lost in the intricate plot, fading in and out of awareness of what was taking place on stage. The opera may have trouble sparking the interest of a young, modern audience because the stories that appear in popular operas are unfamiliar to the current generation, whereas they may have been widely known folklore in generations prior.

            With a deeper understanding of the foundations of opera as a method of performance, I am sure that I could eventually grow fond of opera in the way that I have become attached to other forms of music in the past. I am sure that there are richly complex layers to opera that I have never considered before, and this is probably why I, like many others of this generation, have not found it to be as entertaining as other varieties of musical performance.   

From beneath a blanket of lingering fog in Glasgow, Scotland came "The Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner" by Belle & Sebastian. The song places the persona in a reflective state, wistfully pondering the past while drifting into a future that is unlikely to bode well. There are a number of mood shifts in the instrumentation that seem to slant the tone towards optimism, though the ironic, disillusioned lyrics shadow the brighter guitar riffs, organ lines, and flute melodies. The symbol of the middle distance runner, in my interpretation, suggests an awkward position between previous and future destinations, past experiences and occurrences yet to come. The song is by no means just a sulking lament though, but more of a sullen meditation on the passing of time and the reluctance to face an uncertain future.

The musical texture blends well with lyrics that fit a contemplative setting during the rains of late fall. The intro and first two verse are played upon a vintage organ, accompanied by a n acoustic guitar that is quite naturally produced, with faint traces of finger movement on the strings. Each verse is structured in this arrangement until the lyric: "the future's looking wonderful," upon which there is a shift to a more major mode and the drums switch from the hi-hat cymbal to the ride cymbal. It is in these measures that the lyrics create an ironic juxtaposition with the more optimistic progression of chords. After the first two verses, there is a penetrating guitar interlude, with the final transition into the third verse being made by piano and violin. After returning to the aforementioned form for the third verse, there is an outro that leads to the entrance of a flute line, suggesting a nostalgic recollection of the past as the persona continues a metaphorical journey to an uncertain destination in the future.

The lyrical delivery of Stuart Murdoch, who provides the lead vocals for most of Belle & Sebastian's music, melds well with the musical layers of the verses. In the final lines of the piece, his lyrics are very legato, corresponding to the newly introduced layer of the flute line. This manipulation of his voice illustrates the journey that connects the past and the future. The idiosyncrasies in his vocal delivery during the final measures create quite a contrast with the earlier verses. His utterance in the first two verses is much more stoic and contemplative, while the closing lines have a much more profound sense of longing. I find it difficult to imagine a more appropriate musical interpretation of these poetic lines.

The Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner

I'll take a second of the day to think about the things that we have Done this year
The dog lies down, the pouring rain
I'm underneath the smoker's railway arch again
The future's looking colourful
It's the colour of blood, chaos and corruption of a happy soul
A happy soul will
Ride in the field
Till the rain dies down

The railway ticket states a destination
But it doesn't mean that we will show
There's a fork upon the line
We paid the guard to switch the sign, and off we go
The future's looking wonderful
It's the wonder of a businessman's conspiracy to sell your wares
And no one cares
Oh you care, I know
You care, I forgot for a while

On a sulky afternoon spent in dispute
You'll give yourself a headache, boy
So I take revenge in stories and dreaming of the time when
We're on stage
"Have you seen The Loneliness Of A Middle Distance Runner?"
When he stops the race and looks around
I left the stage
"You've seen it now"
I walked to the station
I wish you follow me tonight

Source: http://www.belleandsebastian.com/recordings.php?release=11&view=lyrics&lyrics=92

Although I rarely listened to the radio this summer, I found that a certain song tended to follow me from place to place. I was first exposed to “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira when I was visiting my roommate from last year in Mumbai, India. The song emerged as a favorite in a number of night clubs and I couldn’t seem to get it out of my head while I was on the subcontinent. Long after I had returned home from the trip, I heard the song in various places around Pittsburgh, like Mineo’s Pizza in Squirrel Hill.

            Listening to the seductive sounds of Shakira again more recently, it became more apparent why a song of this nature received such widespread commercial appeal. As a blend of Latin, world music flavor, and contemporary American hip hop, the musical product falls into a bit of a hybrid genre. The audience for a sound of this variety is thus very broad, attracting attention from an eclectic mix of listeners.

In terms of structure, the writing is fairly straightforward, without any significant changes in meter or tempo. There is a deconstructive bridge portion where the melody cuts out and it is solely the rhythm and vocal portions that continue. Throughout the song, layers of percussion are rhythmically entrancing, with throbbing bass and sporadic high pitched filling on what sounds like a timbale and an occasional cowbell. On top of this percussive foundation are penetrating trumpet melodies and classical Spanish guitar riffs that add to the fluidity of the song’s movement. Shakira’s voice has a tremendous amount of natural vibrato, and it also seems that her voice is augmented slightly through processing with reverb.

As is the case with most popular music, the arrangement is not remarkably complex, but there is no need for the intricacies of a Bach fugue in music that is directed towards a weekend club crowd. The layering and theblend of appealing sounds do, however, achieve their goal, seducing the ears of anyone seeking to dance.