These are a few of my favorite songs...

We are doing so many of my favorite choral pieces in Chamber Choir this semester.  I am beyond ecstatic.  1- I love singing them.  2- I bet my teacher will let me conduct them in rehearsal if I asked.  Conducting a real choir, not in my head.  Conducting a good choir.

What are these favorite songs of mine?

Amor de mi Alma by Stroope

Come to Me my Love by Dello Joio

Song for Athene by Tavener

I am a happy lady.

Efficiency

Again, I think about how to practice conducting the most efficiently.

I need to not feel like I need to conduct through every measure every time I practice conducting.  Because sometimes it's okay to just work on the "tough parts."  I think the reason I am not as comfortable with the tempo changes is because I rarely just spend time working on those.  And I need to.  So that's what I am doing this next week before my first conducting lesson.

I also think it's important to hear the music in my head, but the problem I have with King David is that I cannot find a recording that I like.  I have said this before, but sometimes it becomes counter productive.  For example, when I cannot quite remember how something sounds, I like to listen to it once before I shut off the recording and shape the music how I hear it in my head.  However, many of the recordings don't have the tempos I like.  So then I hear tempos I dislike.

The end.

Music and Memories

Today I ran 9.25 miles.  I still can't really believe it myself.  But for a brief moment, it caused me to think that maybe... maybe I can run a half marathon.  What a strange thing- to actually think that I could do something so huge!

This post, however, is not about running.  But it begins with running.  I run to either This American Life or Fresh Air, at least most of the time.  When I work on pace, I run to music.  Ideally, I would have loved to switch between a talk radio and music.  But my iPod on/off button doesn't work, so once the screen goes black, my iPod is still catching my run, but I can't get back to the screen to change music.  So as I was running and listening to Fresh Air, I thought about music.

And the memories music conjures up.

I am sure we all have music that conjures up memories.  Maybe it's because a particular song was important to us during a time in our life or the lyrics remind us of a person or event.  For example, the entirety of the album "I and Love and You" by the Avett Brothers reminds me of John.  So does "Songs for Silverman" by Ben Folds, because John and I listened to it together when we first met.  In particular, the song "Landed."  There are a lot of other songs that remind me of John.  All of them are pleasant memories, although not all the songs are cheerful.

There are pieces that remind me of my mother ("Forever Young" or "You and Me Against the World") and many pieces that remind me of Heather, in particular from our childhood together.  Those are ALWAYS fun pieces.  Probably because we are fun people.

There are also pieces that remind me of events.  Here is the whole point of this: There are no classical pieces that remind me of a person.  Classical pieces only remind me of large events.  Such as Vivaldi's Gloria- the first time I sang just the "Gloria," I had a musical experience.  Of "Songs for Athene" sung by Nordic Choir when I was still in high school.  I remember hearing these pieces and I remember the feelings and reactions I had.  I still don't have nearly as many classical pieces that conjure up memories, but this musical memory bank is always growing.  By the way, when I say classical, I mean the over arching genre and not Classical, as in the time period.

I love the way our brains work.  I love the fact that music is so integrated in our culture and our lives that it is powerful enough to bring back experiences, feelings, and memories.  I would love to know some of YOUR important memories that are brought about by music.

A Personal Comparison- Le Roi David and Mass in C

Today is about King David.  And Beethoven's Mass in C.  I am going to be talking about my connection to each piece and doing a comparison of the pieces with the next-to-no-knowledge I have about the Mass in C and the only-slightly-more-knowledge I have of King David.

When I first heard King David, I really enjoyed it.  When my teacher asked me what pieces I might want to conduct, King David ("Le Roi David") was on my list.  Since it is also a favorite of my teacher's and it presented more challenges than some of the other pieces on my list, we decided to work on it in lessons.  So I have spent a lot of time with King David the past few months.  And as I am conducting, studying, listening, hearing, I experience new moments of why I like the piece.  I recognize the piece is a little more difficult- there are 27 movements and there is not much relation between tempo and character.  What I mean by this is, the story of the oratorio truly dictates what each movement is trying to express.  I have been going from movement to movement without much consideration for the story in between and that has made it even more difficult for me.  I knew the story was happening and I know what's happening in the story, but I haven't really demanded that I connect to the story in lessons.  But as I learned, it's difficult to connect to the music unless I am invested in the story of King David.

So what is enjoyable about King David?  It is interesting.  There is always a new type of music to be shared, to be heard, to be played.  With the narrator, it is clear that music helps to tell the story, right from the beginning.  

In the first movement, the listener hears war-like drum rolls in the timpani.  You can hear that it foreshadows the war theme of the entirety of the piece, that never quite feels resolved until the very last movement.  It may be a story about King David, but David's life was full of war, it was defined by war.  And the oboe.  Because apparently the oboe is David's instrument in this oratorio.  Maybe it's his harp, his psaltery, perhaps?  I own a psaltery and play it on occasion, so I understand the impractically of trying to put a psaltery into a large work like this.  But it would have been neat and a little more authentic.

The second movement is David singing a song about God being his shepherd, very Psalm 23-ish.  Sung by a woman or a boy, it represents David as a young boy, innocent in his trust and complete adherence to God.  A slow 2- which seems a little odd.  A young boy has more energy than Andantino, but that's okay.  

The third movement is chance for the entirety of the group to sing in unison celebration of God.  It's done in a Baroque fashion, with it's semi-counterpoint, one of the reasons I love it.  The next few movements are about going to war (you can hear the war trumpets) and the entrance of Goliath.  Here Honegger does a great thing- the entrance of Goliath is portrayed by a lumbering-sounding trombone.  Clever!  Then, a song of victory (even though the war has not been won yet), some more marching music, some more trusting in God music.  

Movement 8 is the song of the Prophets and is modeled after Gregorian chant.  Movement 9 is a slightly more adult (i.e. "tenor") David singing a song to God about his weakness.  Movement 10 gets interesting- this is when David sneaks into Saul's camp and could kill him, but decides not to.  You can hear David sneak up on Saul as a mass of brass triplets and duples are compounded on top of each other.  David doesn't kill Saul, but takes his staff to let him know he's been there (apparently Saul was in a deep sleep).  Saul, who becomes irrational, decides to seek out the Witch of Endor to find out his future.  This is done in movement 12.  The clarinet and cymbal set up an excellent smokey-hut feel as the witch speaks over music that accelerates for much of the movement.  It all comes to a dramatic halt when Samuel rises from the dead to prophesy that Saul is going to die, along with his sons, the next day.  

More marching.  Lamenting by a women's chorus over the death of Saul, even though the people celebrate David being their new king.  The longest movement (about ten minutes) happens in movement 16.  IT's called the dance before the ark and is full of celebration, although the music is set in such a way that it doesn't feel like a celebration of joy, but more a celebration of one's strength in their army and their army's leader.  That has a much more ominous feel than true peace.  It vacillates between a celebration a a prayer that "Mighty God be with us."  At the end of the movement, there seems to be a brief sense of relief as the chorus sings overlapping "alleluia"s.  It doesn't feel nearly long enough nor certain enough to be the end of the story.  

And it isn't.  The story continues as David becomes an adulterer and then must pray (and sing) for forgiveness.  He praises God.  He is forgiven by God.  But then David takes a census of his people (which is the last straw for God) and movement 23 is war music again.  Here comes the marching Hebrew army.  While David kept his country and people intact, he becomes sick and decides to crown Solomon (his son) as the king.  This happens in movement 26 and movement 26 moves right into 27, the final movement, the death of David.  This is my favorite movement of the entire piece- there is so much release of pain, war is extinguished, music that symbolizes the promise of the future is played and earlier music of hope (the dance of the ark) is brought back.  It ends in majesty and a feeling of optimism for the future.  War truly seems gone.

So, that's King David.  Well, kind of.  There is more to it, but that's all I have space and time to write now.  As a previous blog post indicates, I finished a basic harmonic analysis of Beethoven's Mass in C yesterday.  So then I decided it was time to listen to it so I could hear any surprising moments and make note of them.

The difference between the first listen of King David and the first listen of Mass in C is huge.  I found King David interesting.  In a way it was like reading an article on something I was studying.  But Mass in C?  I tried to listen to it very removed from the music itself so I could hear things I "needed" to hear.  But it didn't happen.  I was so caught up in the beauty and the journey.  King David provided a story but Mass in C provided a journey.  That sounds a little cheesy, but I cannot think of another way to describe it.  With every swell of a phrase, I found myself unwillingly waiving my arms, trying to coax this sound out of a recorded orchestra.  

The excitement about conducting this piece this semester is different than my feelings about King David.  From the ascending "Kyrie eleison," I hear a prayer rising.  It makes sense.  The music, even without words, makes sense.  Why?  Because Beethoven's a beast.  Musically.

The Gloria has an almost call-and-response section between the tenor soloist and the choir and they call-and-respond in different keys.  Then it happens with the soprano soloist.  It's as if the soloists are always in a different place.  And then the rhythmic vitality the strings add throughout the entire mass?  Who needs percussionists hitting things when you can create an energy like the strings do?

There was a moment in the Gloria, during the "amens" (forgive me, I have to number the measures yet) where the chord progression can shock you out of any listening lethargy.  F major, d minor, Bb major, g minor, Eb major, c min, Ab major, f minor, Db major, Bb minor, F# major/Gb major, G major, C major, G, C- boom, back in C major.  But when I heard it, I thought, "Yes, Beethoven!  Amen indeed!"

I also would like to give kudos to Beethoven- none of his "slow" sections are unbearably long.  Some composers decide to write something in a slower tempo and it seems to take forever.  In my impatience (and probably inexperience) I think, "5 minutes later and we're still in the same lethargic motion?"  Wow, I suppose Beethoven's music really is like sex.  Sorry to any family members who might read this.  I have read articles with authors comparing Beethoven's music to sexual experiences and how he was a very sexual person.  Maybe that's a blog post for another day and I can warn you ahead of time in case it makes you uncomfortable.  Or I may never write that post.

I love the Osanna fugue.  I love the relative lightness his fugal sections hold.  Although I have to be honest, the recording I heard yesterday was great, but I will play around with taking the Benedictus at a slightly faster tempo.  "Allegretto ma non troppo" is up for interpretation and I may change my mind.  The recording I heard was conducted by a giant in the conducting field, so before I determine tempo and tell you who this giant was, I would rather spend more time with the piece and make a more education decision.

I love the return of the Kyrie at the end of the piece.  

I felt much more connected to the Beethoven than I do King David.  I really like King David, but I didn't realize how disconnected I was until I felt my reaction and excitement to the Mass in C.  I haven't finished King David in lessons and I think it would be valuable to do so, but I would love to skip right to the Mass.  I think it will be easier.  No, not really "easier" but it would make more sense to me.  A little more heart.

Does Music Really Transcend Boundaries?

I just finished a basic harmonic analysis of Beethoven's Mass in C, and to take a break before I listened to some other master works, I thought I would listen to Gesang der Parzen.  Again.

I opened a book that accompanies some of the major works I listen to.  In the introduction to Brahms' shorter pieces, there is a little blurp about Triumphlied.  The author briefly comments on how many people have disapproved of this piece because of the impetus for the composition- which was a celebration of a German victory in the Franco-Prussian War (which I know very little about.  Next to nothing, actually- all I know is it is the beginning of Germany as a country instead of provinces).  It was dedicated to William I, the first emperor of Germany.  It is interesting to me that this author, who was a bit older when he wrote the book, still observed people disapproving of something like that.  When I hear the song and learn of it's history, I don't think about not enjoying the piece because of the inspiration.  I take it as a part of history.  I wonder if, in years from now, the stings of our current history will fade and music will become music, history will be history, and interactions and opinions will become a part of the music and history fold.  Did people really prevent themselves from enjoying a piece because of their condemnation of history?  In the same way I will listen to and enjoy Carmina Burana despite the fact Orff worked the Nazi system to his advantage (he hid the fact his grandmother was Jewish and then seemed like a passive supporter of the regime until the end of WWII).  Does music always transcend boundaries?  Let's say that a composer wrote a piece of music that included text offensive to many listeners, but the music was beautiful, interesting and the text cleverly set.  Would people find the merit in the music?

I think in this case, yes.  Music transcends boundaries.  But I have never heard a cleverly and musically set piece that I disapproved of the lyrics.  And I suppose there could be issues that would just be too personal to me to enjoy.  I'm so glad composers write music for the greater good and rarely try to harm humanity by composing destructive pieces.

Holiday Music

Isn't it interesting what music can do?  In this instant, I'm thinking about holiday music.  For me, the sound of Christmas carols throughout a church or sung by carolers, the familiar CD of my undergrad choir years or that one piece of music I love listening to when it comes on the radio... I read that, when listened to in moderation, Christmas music really gives people a warm nostalgia.  However, when listened to in larger amounts, the effect of the music can wear off.  My favorite coffee shop owner doesn't like Christmas music- at least not the kind that is normally played on the radio.  He said he is forced to listen to it more than he would like.  I think there is some validity to that.  Even I don't listen to just Christmas music during the holidays.

This year, here are a few ways holiday music has affected me:

- Christmas Eve service carols.  It's familiar.  It is like taking a nap on my grandparents couch and watching the star blink on top of their Christmas tree.  It's coming home to visit.  That's how I feel about singing Christmas carols at church on Christmas Eve.

- Caroling with my in-laws.  What fun to do this as a family!  And you know, sometimes it even brings joy to other people.  And that is just a win-win situation.

- Listening to the favorite moments  on a CD from under grad.  I can remember holding the candle or remember what it felt like to hold back tears as the orchestra and choir swells together.


I hope music has touched everybody's past month and has made it a little warmer.