The Final Countdown

So. Here we are at the final blog post. It has certainly been one swingy semester. One full of ups and downs. One full of twists and turns. It was a crazy ride that I simultaneously couldn’t get enough of and one that I wanted to get off of. I learned so much about both myself and about the music presented to be over the course of 24 classes. But enough about me for now, let’s talk about Postmodernism.

So now, we’ve come to the end of the road with Postmodernist Music. Postmodernist Music is actually a subset of Postmodernism in general. Postmodernism is the belief that all “truth” is fabricated, and as such, nothing can be known for a certain fact. In other words, Postmodernism is inviting people to take everything they see with a grain of salt, to question everything that is and ever was.

Postmodern music, meanwhile, isn’t necessarily its own genre of music. Rather, it is an extension and audibulsation of Postmodern ideas. However, Postmodern music is not in opposition to Modern Music (though it was formed as a reaction). As a matter of fact, it’s not much of anything. It lives in its own world, doing whatever it please, not caring what anyone says about it.

So, what constitutes as Postmodern Music: Every single example we have listened to over the Semester.

There are so many names that appear in the list of composers that are cited as “Important to Postmodern Music”, that labeling all the music we have listened to as “Postmodern” to at least some degree wouldn't be that big of a stretch. Jonathan Kramer posted what he considers the following 16 characteristics of Postmodern Music. This music, in Kramer’s eyes:

1. is not simply a repudiation of modernism or its continuation, but has aspects of both a break and an extension
2. is, on some level and in some way, ironic
3. does not respect boundaries between sonorities and procedures of the past and of the present
4. challenges barriers between 'high' and 'low' styles
5. shows disdain for the often unquestioned value of structural unity
6. questions the mutual exclusivity of elitist and populist values
7. avoids totalizing forms (e.g., does not want entire pieces to be tonal or serial or cast in a prescribed formal mold)
8. considers music not as autonomous but as relevant to cultural, social, and political contexts
9. includes quotations of or references to music of many traditions and cultures
10. considers technology not only as a way to preserve and transmit music but also as deeply implicated in the production and essence of music
11. embraces contradictions
12. distrusts binary oppositions
13. includes fragmentations and discontinuities
14. encompasses pluralism and eclecticism
15. presents multiple meanings and multiple temporalities
16. locates meaning and even structure in listeners, more than in scores, performances, or composers.

As has been pointed out numerous times throughout class, all of the pieces we have listened to fits at least one or more of those characteristics. As does the piece I want to get into today: William Bolcom’s setting of William Blake’s poem series Songs of Innocence and of Experience.

Songs of Innocence and of Experience is a gargantuan composition that would make Beethoven’s 9th look like a pushover by comparison. The work as a whole takes approximately 3 hours to perform and is scored for Orchestra, Choir, and Soloists. The culmination of 25 years of work, the finished product is something to behold.

So what makes it postmodern? Postmodernism is, as I said before, a reaction against the norm. And the instrumentation of this piece clearly reflects that. This was mostly the result of Bolcom’s quest to understand these poems and to set them to music. Along the way, he discovered so many different styles of music (Reggae, Country, and Bluegrass among them), and had an epiphany: one style of music should not be placed on a pedestal as has been the norm for so long.

Thus, along with the traditional orchestra, Bolcom included “...saxophones, guitar, electric guitar, bass guitar, harmonica, electric violin, and ‘country, rock, and folk singers.’ ” The result is a piece of such contrast that it is a piece of art in an of itself.

Now, maybe I’m looking in this too deeply. George Gershwin used Three Saxophones and Banjo in his Rhapsody in Blue. Heck, Georges Bizet used an Alto Saxophone in his score to L'Arlésienne. So instrumentation itself shouldn’t be Postmodern. But the piece’s Orchestration is. Two parts, The Little Black Boy from Part 1 and Laughing Song from Part 2 are good examples of what I’m talking about.

The Little Black Boy (incidentally one of the first Abolitionist Poems ever written) features an modern blues ensemble. There is no indication that there is an orchestra until the last 10-odd seconds. Hear it for yourself here:

By contrast, Laughing Song (The audio for which is regrettably unavailable) starts off in a similar way to the Più Mosso from the Mystic Circles of the Young Girls from The Rite of Spring and plays off just as mysteriously. The quick witted, jaunty, Messiaen-esque orchestra is a good setting for such a jaunty composition.

If you were to listen to these two pieces by themselves without any context, you would never know they were two movements of the same piece. Most multi-movement piece usually falls under the same genre. But this work is a reaction against that. Bolcom saw all these genres of American Music and realized that they shouldn’t be more or less important that any other. And that they’re put together like a traditional symphony is evident of that.

This piece is just the latest out of the hundreds of pieces we’ve listened to that were written when mankind sobered up and thought to itself “What do we do now”? the answer: move forward. It’s like Copernicus said (paraphrased): “When you get to the edge of a wall, climb over that wall and keep shooting”. Even when everything seems to have been invented, every musical device discovered, every style explored, there’s only one thing left to do: try something new.

Now, after 23 blog posts, there’s only one question left to ask: what did I learn from this class? What knowledge did I take away that would be beneficial to me down the road? Well, let’s see. There were plenty of pieces we listened to, some I felt were good, some I felt were bad, along the entire Avant-Garde spectrum. Chances are, sooner or later, I might end up performing one of those pieces or one like it. Even if I don’t personally like the piece very much, or hell, I might even detest it, I’ll still play it anyway because it means something to someone, although I might not see what it is. It’s said that Music is the Universal Language, and I think I finally understand what that truly means this semester.

I guess if I had to sum up what I learned in one sentence, it’s this: Music is for Everyone.

Thank you. Good night.

- Dennis O’Keefe.

What is Complexity?

If Minimalism is Absolute-Chaos and Post-Minimalism is Controlled Chaos, then Totalism is...um, well...it’s so bizarre that I have to make a new word for it. It’s...it’s…

...Biz-ang-od-eird. This is some of the most Bizangodeird music I’ve ever heard. It’s music, but at the same time it’s not. I know I’ve used this analogy before, but it seems to occur anew with almost every blog post. Half the time, I always seem to question what I’m listen to. And here’s no exception. The chaos is both controlled and uncontrolled. It knows what it wants to be and at the same time it doesn’t.

Though, I should probably start by explaining the connection between this type of music and the forms of minimalism.

The term “Totalism” was first coined during the 1990s, with its roots going back into the 1980s. During that time, many young composers were writing Minimal Music. Which makes sense to the biased ear, Minimal Music contains very few ideas that can be repeated over and over again and with a context, it can be the next great American Masterpiece.

However, these young composers weren’t content in staying within the compounds of normal Minimalism. I mentioned many times before that music needs to evolve if it is to stay relevant. In this case, these composers used rhythmic complexity. The most common of these involved seemingly utilizing two or more tempos on the same piece at the same time.

This raises an important question: what makes something complex? The answer is: there is no answer. I’m saying this now because this is not opinion, this is outright fact. In his lecture On Complexity, Richard Toop notes the debate on what’s complex or not:

“With the notion of "complexity," however, real disagreements, real incompatibilities of judgements can arise. I might say that I find a work by Composer X complex (though that too does not necessarily involve a judgement about worth), and you may very possibly disagree completely. You may say, "No, it's not complex at all; it's just complicated." This disagreement, I think, would really be one about personal perception, not material substance. Accordingly, it is unlikely in the short term that we could do more than agree to differ. “

Not even the dictionary gives a precise answer to this question, simply saying that complexity is “...something that’s complex”. So, for the rest of the blog post, I’ll do the sane and sensible thing and shoehorn my own feelings of complexity down your throats. Of course, I invite you to take my findings with a grain of salt. Still, what follows are my personal findings.

Let’s start with John Luther Adams’ (not to be confused with the composer of Nixon in China, thank you very much) piece for String Orchestra, Dreaming in White-on-White. The piece begins similarly to Charles Ives’ The Unanswered Question in that both pieces begin with a simple Monorhythmic chant, although Adams is significantly more dissonant, so Dreaming in White-on-White may be a better representation of what would have been if Ives was a Satanist. Actually, I’d like to talk about Ives for a minute. I’d like to take a good listen to The Unanswered Question:

The Ensemble’s split up into three groups here: Strings (representing the Druids), the Trumpet (representing the Question) and the Flute Quartet (representing the elders struggling in vain to come up with an answer.) The key here is that the piece is intended to be portraying a naturally flowing conversation. To get that right, each separate group plays at completely different tempos.

That’s right: The Unanswered Question is a totalist piece 80 years before the term was even conceived. That is how ahead of his time Ives was.

But the question still remains: is it complex? Well, I think so. Three groups of instruments playing at different tempos at the same time is by no means an easy matter (Though I might be confusing the term “Complexity” with “Complicated” here. More on that later.) Going back to White-on-White for a minute, at around 7:15, we hear the solo harp playing seemingly at different times with the non-solo strings. “Seemingly”, because we hear later that things are more mechanized, as they are playing on off beats with the Harp on On-beats. But still, I feel that making the connection at all still makes this piece complex.

Now, let’s talk about the difference between “Complex” and “Complicated”. “Complex” means something composed of many intricate parts. “Complicated” means something that is difficult. Works can be both “Complex” and “Complicated”, but from what I understand from listening to these pieces, it’s tough for these types of pieces to have one without the other. With that said, let’s look at Michael Gordon’s Four Kings Fight Five.

One of the most Minimal pieces of the repertoire this week, it’s certainly one of the most jarring examples I’ve heard so far. And its instrumentation (Oboe, Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Electric Keyboard, Percussion, Scordatura Violin, Niola, Cello, and Electric Guitar) makes the piece very bizarre considering its rock-roots apparent.

The biggest feature of this piece is the syncopation. In the composers notes, Gordon says “I often use syncopation as a way to not only make rhythm intense and jagged, but also to find out how far away musicians can get from each other rhythmically while still staying connected to the beat.” To use an early example, here’s part of page 24 of the score:

As you can see, the Strings really have their work cut out for them, playing complex Duple rhythms against the Wind’s simple Quarter Notes. But as to whether I think this piece is Complex or simply Complicated, I’d say this piece is Complicated, for as I said before, this piece is the most minimal of the pieces in this week’s repertoire. And Minimal Music isn’t known to be very complex at all.

I rest my case.

Now, let’s go to the last piece I want to talk about: Soul Train.

NO, NOT THAT SOUL TRAIN, YOU IDIOT! I’m talking about the Mikel Rouse composition.

Actually, the piece is part of a larger work called Dennis Cleveland. It’s notable because (and this is true) it’s the first Talk-Show Opera. The inspiration for this piece of theater came from a show called The Richard Bey Show. Rouse described Rouse as much crazier than Jerry Springer. It was pretty much a precursor. In fact, he even compared the show to Avant-Garde Theater, it was so wild.

So, naturally, this led to an epiphany that led him to turn the concept into actual Avant-Garde Theater, and this is where Dennis Cleveland comes in.

Rouse stated that he was interested in making music with an interesting beat and a melody with extremely layered formal composition. And in listening to Soul Train, Rouse seems to succeed in doing just that. The piece is incredibly complex because it combines three types of music at once:

1.) Formal Operatic storytelling

2.) Traditional Minimalist hypnotism

3.) Cheesy 1990s goodness.

To be able to combine all that effectively is a feat for any composer. This piece is so dense in so many good ways, that’s to even begin to dissect it would be a monumental task in and of itself. What else is there to say?...Talk-Show Opera.

But none of these points answer the initial question: what is complexity? What makes a piece complex? All I did was give my own opinions of what was complex or not and...kind of explained in vague detail why. Then again, I guess, like most things, there really isn’t an answer. There will be findings, but they may just reinforce the author’s own ideas and perspectives. Perhaps, just like with beauty, it’s all a matter of opinion. I’m not wrong, you’re not wrong. I’m not right, you’re not right. Nothing’s complex and nothing’s not complex. It all depends on how you look at it.

Huh...I just realized this is the penultimate blog post. I’M FREE!!

You still have the review and the final project coming up.

I’M ALMOST FREE!!

Rock Out of the Norm

Like most people with half a brain stem, I love me some old time Rock and Roll. Born out of Jazz and all its deviants, it is one of the most beloved forms of music in the world. The seeds were sown by the African American community in the early 1920s, but didn’t make it big until the Whites got their hands on it in 1954 with Billy Haley’s Rock Around the Clock. Ever since, Rock and Roll and its deviants spent upwards of 4 decades as the Kings of the Mainstream Charts, and though the charts have since been taken over by Pop music (sad, I know.), it continues to be in the forefront of American Popular Culture.

The way I see it, there are four kinds of songs that usually top the Radio Charts:

1. The Schmaltzy Love Song (the most prevalent, especially in Country Music)

2. The Break-up Song

3. The Female-Empowerment Song

4. Any combination of the above

Not surprising, since many of the song listeners continue to be young Teenage Girls. It’s been that way since the days of the Bobby Soxers.

Incidentally, rumor had it that some of them were paid.

But I digress.

Of course, there are songs who break from the above mold. Those songs are considered to be some of the greatest songs ever written into the American Songbook.

Stairway to Heaven. Bohemian Rhapsody. Imagine. All these songs have lyrics that feel more like poetry and natural conversation, tunes that won’t leave your head until your deathbed, and deep messages that go beyond the surface of their multi-layered instrumentals. It’s not to say that songs that fit the mold can’t be considered masterpieces, but most of the songs that stand out in their own right do. It those tunes that go above and beyond their colleagues that usually enjoy a longer lasting legacy.

Some of these pieces fade into obscurity, like Rhys Chapman’s An Angel Moves Too Fast to See.

What makes this stand out so much is that it was written for Electric Bass, Drum Set, and about one hundred Electric Guitars. The ensemble is divided up into six sections, each one with their own tuning. Now, when one thinks 100 Electric Guitars, they’d imagine Chapman, the usual conductor of the ensemble, to look somewhat like this:

However, in unison, 100 Guitars sound...transcending. Almost otherworldly in a way. Sort of...angelic. There is a direct correlation between the divine and this piece. Bells ring, choirs sing, and the heavens themselves seem to be rocking out in this composition. In fact, it reminds me of Polyphony found in many Renaissance works, maybe not in actual music, but in timbre and tone. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

The best Rock and Roll songs are also the smartest: they know what sound they want to project, they know what they want their story to be about, and they know how to pay tribute to the music styles before them. This piece is one of those songs. But it’s not the only one.

There are some pieces who get their deserved 15 minutes of fame. One of those pieces is Laurie Anderson’s O Superman.

Since this piece was already discussed in great detail, I won’t dive too deeply into it. However, it’s still something worth talking about again.

If there’s anything Rock and Roll loves to do, it’s protest against the Status Quo. There are songs written against any topic. This is one of those piece. O Superman plays out like a telephone conversation between the Protagonist and an unidentified source, assumed to be his mother. What follows is an allegory to an attack by American Tanks and Planes (confirmed by Anderson to be the Iran Hostage Crisis).

Part of a larger America, the satire here is woven so finely and so subtly that many listeners (especially the target demographic of MTV, where its video played adnauseum during its first years) never caught on to it. Again, I won’t go into too much detail here because it was so thoroughly discussed in class already, but here is a piece worth looking in to.

And then, there are those works that are timeless. Works that need no introduction but deserve one anyway. Works that transcend the fabrics of their genres and becomes a work of art in and of itself. Works that you know just by their album cover:

You know what I’m talking about.

Pink Floyd’s The Dark of the Moon was released in 1973 to immediate acclaim that has not ceased to this day. The first album released since the leaving of founding member Syd Barrett in 1968 due to mental illness, the album has clear subtext from that incident. Themes of insanity, which present themselves throughout the album and which manifests in the track Brain Damage, greed, time, and conflict in general. Though the album is presented as an uninterrupted suite, two tracks really stand out: Time and Money.

Time begins with a series of ringing clocks, all recorded in various antique shops. After that, there is a solo by drummer Nick Mason on a set of unusual instruments: Roto-Toms.

Roto-Toms are Tom-Toms that can be tuned by rotating the head. The solo itself is rather hypnotic.

The lyrics themselves have a deep provocative message: Live your life to the fullest! Because you’re never gonna get that time back (And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking/Racing around to come up behind you again/The Sun is the same in a relative way but you’re older/Shorter of breath and one day closer to death). It’s a message all people can relate to because they’re so worried about the future, that they forget to slow down and enjoy the gift of today.

And He said to His disciples, “For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing…” Luke 12:22-23

Also worth sharing is the Music Video made by Ian Emes.

And just as it is a sin to have anxiety, ‘tis also a sin to have greed.

Just as Time began with the ringing of clocks, Money begins with another ringing. This time of Cash Registers. Over that is arguably one of the most iconic bass riffs in all of rock:

Then the lyrics kick in. This song’s subtext is obvious from the offset. It is a clear jab and satire on Greed and Consumerism.(Money it’s a crime/Share it fairly but don’t take a slice of my pie) But maybe there is some hidden subtext here. For all accounts, this part has elements of American 50s rock, not the least of which is Dick Parry’s Saxophone solo. Additionally, at the 3:48 mark, the piece goes into a slow standard 12-bar ABA blues section.

Add to that the echo-distortion throughout the piece, and all this leads me to believe that the piece isn’t about Greed, but American greed.

Perhaps there is a connection between these two pieces. After all, they’re both included in the phrase “Time is Money”. Both songs point out the most inherent flaws in man. Maybe both these pieces are a call to change. A call of penance. A call to act for your sake and for that of your soul.

Or maybe I’m looking too deeply into this. Either way, The Dark Side of the Moon is a spectacular accomplishment in music. In a sea of hopeless Romantics, throbbing pessimists, and other cliches, it’s nice to see gems like this rise out of that ocean.

And that’s what sets these pieces and others like it apart from their peers: they’re timeless. They can be experienced and embraced by anyone who sit down and let the music take them over. Even if the tunes are dated, the messages within them are not.