8:30-10 Yoga (skip out early)
9:30-11 Gehörbuildung (medieval aural skills) with CY
11-1 Musicus and Cantor with CY
2:30-4:30 Renaissance dance
I get to go home at a decent hour on Thursdays, and that makes me very happy!
In gehörbuildung we listen to pieces and identify aspects of them such as mode, structure, instrumentation, range of the voices (voices meaning lines played by whatever instrument or voice), etc. We also sing using old (Guidonian) solemnization: ut, re, me, fa, sol, la.
Musicus and Cantor is more of a general introduction to medieval music that covers history, theory, and practical skills. It’s a rather large class (8) and the most interesting part I find so far is learning to use the Guidonian Hand. We learned about it at Eastman, but not how it worked and we certainly didn’t memorize it. All of the pitches use in medieval music are on the hand (two octaves and a third) and are called “musica recta” (true music). When the rules of counterpoint in a piece require another note it is called “musica ficta” because it is not on the hand. The hand is attributed to Guido, but we don’t know if he invented it or just made it famous by writing a book about it. It had a huge influence and changed the way people thought and wrote about music. Children and amateurs were taught music by using the hand. They pointed to the various points on the hand and sang the appropriate syllables. We’ve learned the hand by heart and can go up and down but haven’t learned yet how to switch hexachords. The structure of the hand is too complicated to explain here, but you can get some more information here.
I forgot to mention that on Wednesday before dance class I went to the Herbstmesse (Autumn fair/market-thing). Lots of stands are set up selling all manner of goods and they’ve been coming to Basel for hundreds of years in the fall to do so. Mostly it was too crowded and there was too much stuff and jewelry, but there were some very creative goods and I enjoyed my walk through it all. I thumbed through some CDs and found one of German Christmas music and one of early music with my dance teacher’s name on it. I brought it to her that night and she explained more about the project. A guy at the Schola discovered a manuscript that wasn’t catalogued (know, but not in the system) and it had a bunch of music without notation so the lit. folks didn’t know it was music. The poems had titles in latin “to the tune of blahblah” but the latin was obscure to only when this musician saw it and recognized various tune names did they realize that’s what it meant. It turns out lots of the poems were in Swiss German so they made a CD singing these ‘new’ pieces (new texts to old music). Where my dance teacher comes in is that she helped them with tempos and styles for the dances. Kind of a neat find, I think.
Back to Thursday. I made Mexican soft tacos for Veronika and I and she had never had one before. It was fun to introduce her to it (she liked them very much) and I was happy to have salsa and sour cream and refried beans and actually fix a meal for once. Unfortunately the prep and clean up took the whole of what time I had at home before going back to school for a concert, but it was well worth it. Stephan suggested doing something to help him adjust to Swiss time after his trip so we went to a natural horn diploma concert. It is absolutely incredible how one can play Mozart with all his runs and ornaments on a horn with no keys. It was a thoroughly enjoyable concert, though it felt a bit like going to a concert with my father. The conversation is a series of questions and it’s the questions that I can’t answer because they either go beyond my depth or are coming from a place that I don’t understand because I’m so steeped in the music world. I enjoy technical and theoretical questions, too, but that’s not the main reason why I go to a concert. There is so much going on in the music and at good concerts the music speaks to my heart and I just enjoy the musical conversation with all its tricks and surprises and pain and joy. It took me some time to realize that just because a person doesn’t see that in music doesn’t mean he isn’t enjoying it, but it is such a contrary concept for me I still struggle to believe it. In hopes in making this clear in an analogy, imagine a gut wrenching movie that leaves a hopeless romantic in tears at the end. Before the credits have a chance to begin someone launches into some fact of history related to some minor part of the movie. For someone deeply moved by the movie it is a very unwelcome way to come suddenly back to reality no matter how interesting the exposition would be otherwise. It’s not the exactly same thing with concerts, but it’s a similar idea. I have a tendency to listen to my heart cry “Don’t you see beyond all the little mistakes and periphery things to the harmonious whole that speaks so deeply?” Different strokes for different folks. Just don’t ask me to prove why I feel this way. It is simply how I feel, however strongly, and is no judgment on others and I hope others don’t judge me!
Once again, thank you so much for taking time to write in such detail when I know how precious is every moment now. I seem to have found a trick, however, for inducing posts -- be unavailable. First you made a whole stream of updates when I was out of town, then after a break you posted again, just when I was unable to read because of hyper-dilated eyes from an encounter with the eye doctor. :)
Is solemnization the same as solmization?
Thanks again for going to the concert with me, even if I did nod off... What would you talk about after a concert with music folks?
What a nice way to point out my spelling mistake. :) I'm assuming that means you enjoyed the concert despite being tired, for which I'm glad even though it didn't seem so to me.
On one level I can answer your question. On another, it's like asking someone who loves mythology what he talks about with a fellow mythology lover when the questioner knows nothing about mythology. The thing that makes the conversation so rewarding between the mythology lovers is not the knowledge and special vocabulary they share (though that certainly makes it difficult to explain what they talk about) but a much more fundamental connection of walking side by side in mutual discovery of something they both love. That's a dangerous word given the debate on your blog, but that's the way the word is often used so I'll stick by it for now.
I can give you a conversation I had after the horn concert. B: Did you enjoy the concert? J: Oh yes! It was wonderful! B: Wasn't it? He's incredible. J: I can't believe how he can play all those fast runs and ornaments so well! B: I know. It's pretty amazing.
Is this shallow? Remember, we spend most of our lives being criticle of our work in the practice room, in rehearsal, and in lessons for months before concerts (especially diploma concerts that usually take a year to prepare from picking music to organizing groups to practicing to perfection). When the concert is over the last thing we need to be is critical. We all heard the mistakes, so there's no need to mention it. The concert and the time after is time to enjoy a work well done. After the football game is won, do you sulk in your seat over the dropped balls and missed kicks? No, the team works on problems at the next practice, but they deserve some celebration!
Now of course some of that only applies to concerts of people you know, I like music because it moves me, not because it has no mistakes. When I listen to music (not as a teacher) I just enjoy it. It frustrates me if it's so bad I cannot enjoy it, but that doesn't happen frequently - and certainly not with those learning music. I like to enjoy what they can do, not focus on what they can't.
Again, I am fascinated by the technical aspects of playing as well, but when that's all the conversation is about then it makes me wonder if the music is getting anywhere at all. Like I said, I'm learning that some people enjoy music that way, but I still don't 'understand' at all. I hope some of that makes sense, but I thought I said that in the post, so it's unlikely to have helped much. Dad, what about you? Has this made any sense to you or helped you understand my less than charitable reactions to your questions and comments sometimes?
Ah, another romantic image crushed by reality. When I read "solemnization" it evoked images of the section of the prayer book for "The Solemnization of a Marriage," so I was imagining some high and holy roots for solfege....
Yes Janet - it does help to explain it. Of course what is really going on with my questions is that I really don't know what is going on -- and thus am looking for some things to observe. I have known for a long time that I really don't know what is going on --- it having been first made completely plain to me when, one day in the car returning from choir practice you realized that I didn't read music and you were incredulous that anyone could try and sing without reading music. As you now know - it is like playing soccer without really knowing how -- it is still fun when done with sympathetic people willing to put up with your foibles.
Love you - Dad.
Don't worry about using "love." The context was clear.
I think I'm on the same level: I "don't know what is going on -- and thus am looking for some things to observe." You hear the piece, recognize the mistakes as mistakes, ignore them because they are irrelevant in the big picture, and enjoy the music. I hear the mistakes and ask you about them, mostly because I wonder if those are really mistakes or in fact the way it ought to be played. Same with "solemnization:" it wasn't what I expected, but seemed plausible enough that I wasn't sure if it was an alternative use. The only way I know to figure that out is via point-blank questioning, and due to my basic mediaeval music ignorance it's very low-level point-blank questioning. Maybe next time I'll write down my questions and ask them later so as not to ruin the mood for you.
If I may, I'm going to try to offer something that might help those of you who "don't know what is going on," because I've been there, and have had to learn some painful lessons -- and I'm still there, and still learning. It isn't just artists who are hurt by a certain kind of questioning, though they are especially susceptible because their hearts are right out in the open more than most.
Most important of all I believe is to learn to question without being critical. I find this very hard to do -- and often have to preface my words with "I'm not being critical here," which isn't nearly as good but better than nothing -- because when we're in the trying-to-get-the-big-picture stage, what stands out most is anything that doesn't fit into our current mental model, and we need to know if this new piece of information doesn't belong or if we need to change the model.
Unfortunately, there are two things that are going on when I ask that kind of question. When I ask if the trumpets were a little flat, it's because I want to know if my ear correctly detected the flatness, or if my detection mechanism is still faulty. This is important information. The other thing that's happening is not so pretty: I really believe the trumpets are flat, and I'm secretly congratulating myself on being able to recognize that fact. Even this kind of pride is not all bad -- it can be like the proper pride we feel in a job well done -- but I think it's too often because we've absorbed the idea -- probably from reading those whose job title contains the unfortunate word "critic" -- that to be knowledgeable is to detect and display that which is wrong.
My advice, for what it's worth, is this:
(1) I don't think it's necessary to write your questions down, but if possible, give the person who has just sat through a performance some time to "return to earth" first; otherwise the effect is akin to being jarred out of a deep sleep by the telephone.
(2) This is the most important: be as positive and as appreciative as possible before suggesting anything negative. When you are negative you come across as a critic, which implies knowledge, which negates the "I don't know what's going on" defense. And there's nothing worse to someone who has just "come out" of an enjoyable performance than to be confronted with negative comments. In my case, I don't even like to entertain "how did you like it?" questions at first, because it switches me into critic mode -- but this may not bother others, I don't know.
Sad to say, artists are not immune from this kind of negativity. I had a very dear friend complain, after a concert we had both attended, that she was bored. I would much rather she had said nothing at all, since all this did was make me feel bad. Bad for my friends who had played in the concert; bad for her, because she had wasted her time; and bad for myself, because I had enjoyed the concert, and now felt that my enjoyment must have been due to ignorance since she is so vastly my superior in musical matters. No doubt she didn't mean to hurt anyone, but our critical comments so often have that effect that I suspect we should use them much more sparingly than we do. But now I'm getting off on another topic.
Take the above for what it's worth; it's what I've learned and am still having to learn, again and again....
Thank you, Mommy, for helping the world deal with this lump of clay! Number 2 hits it on the head. The questions I get from Dad and Stephan seem critical to me and I get intimidated and defensive. I think this has much to do with the fact that I have so much respect for both and don't like to be made a fool in front of them. I cannot believe they are so ignorant as they say and Mom is right, the way the question is ask negates this claim to me as well. Please, try to understand me, for I am trying to understand you as well! I love answering questions, but as Mom said, a little humility in the question and a few positive remarks can go a long way.
Thanks for your comment, Dad. Don't believe everything your 10-year-old says, or expect her to be mature! I was probably just amazed that you could sing without reading. It's like having heard you read a story and then being told you actually had it memorized and couldn't read. Woah! What a memory!
Yes, I was a bit of a snob with music growing up, but I've been humbled a lot since then.
Isn't is amazing how dangerous a little knowledge is? We people are so prone to pride that we give ourselves all kinds of fits and starts.
This isn't exactly related and I don't know about the rest of you, but I am so very glad that God is the only one who hears my conversations with him. I don't think my pride could handle being exposed for the defensive know-it-all I sometimes am with the Lord. Thank heaven he's patient!
@ Sursumcorda: I appreciate your last post. It is helpful.
Thank you, Stephan; I'm glad. I'm always glad when my running-off-at-the-mouth is actually useful. :)
