Varieties of Musical Time

I'm surprised to find I have only one tag that really fits: tempo. I used to tell students that the "timing" of a piece of music only refers to the length of the performance or recording: so many minutes and seconds. The words we use to describe musical time are tempo (the pace of the music measured in beats per minute), the meter (how those beats are grouped) and the rhythm (what pattern of long and short notes are played in that meter at that tempo).

But that really just scratches the surface. In the experience of playing and listening to music, we can distinguish many different kinds of musical time. For example, one of the oldest forms of Western music is the chant of the Catholic Church. Though often called "Gregorian" chant after Pope Gregory (pope from 590 to 604 AD), he did not have a great deal to do with the creation of the corpus of chant. Here is a sample:

This is a kind of musical time in which there is an open and relatively free kind of pulse. In fact the pulse is de-emphasized in favor of the flowing line. I wrote a piece for guitar in which I specifically sought to have as little sense of pulse as possible:

There are actually three kinds of musical time in that piece. Most of it is long held single notes without a measured pulse. This is the "chant" music. Then there are brief flurries of grace notes that also don't have a pulse, but are like little glimmers or a spray of sound fragments. Then there is a quote from the chant Pange Lingua, which is measured, though not very strictly.

In opera and oratorio there is a long tradition of different kinds of musical time. Recitative sections are performed in a rather free way that is a kind of musical prose. They are used instead of spoken dialogue to explain or describe or advance the narrative. Typically a recitative sets the stage for an aria. In fact, musicologists refer to "aria time" when the narrative of the opera stops while a character expresses a particular feeling or mood. In one sense the aria is a moment out of time. Here is an example of a famous recitative and aria from the Marriage of Figaro by Mozart, "Deh vieni, non tardar":

The singer "speaks" her phrases over held chords in the orchestra, there is no consistent pulse. Then the aria, beginning around the 1:30 mark is in a very clear 3/4.

The French overture provides us with two other contrasting kinds of musical time: there is a slow section, characterized by dramatic harmonies and very dynamic dotted rhythms--this is contrasted with a middle section in a quicker tempo with running notes. It is a bit hard to describe in words, but the effect of the first section is to capture the listener's attention with dramatic gestures while the middle section is action and movement oriented, more dance-like. This is the Overture in the French Style, BWV 831 by Bach, played by Scott Ross. The first movement is the actual overture. The faster middle section starts at the 2:28 mark, in a quick 3/4, which contrasts with the duple time of the slow section:

There are a host of other kinds of musical time: long-held drones such as we find in John Luther Adams, constant pulse as we find in Steve Reich, layered textures where there may be long-held notes in one part while others move in contrasting rhythms (lots of passages like that in Shostakovich symphonies) and so on. A composition can be in a single kind of musical time, or have sections in contrasting musical times or have layers of different music times.

I think I will leave it there for today!

[I am not seeing the clip of my piece show up, though it is there in the post. Is it just me or can others see it? It is the second example.]

Footnote on Beethoven's Metronome Markings

A comment on my last post reminds me that the controversy about Beethoven's metronome markings is not perhaps as widely known as it should be. Rickard writes:

Interesting, I had no idea the performances were so much slower than what Beethoven intended. And I also used to think (and think to some extent now) that it's a kind of mysterious movement. It's the only movement in the symphony that isn't so bombastic and it's pretty calm compared with the rest. Maybe it makes more sense when it's performed at the speed Beethoven wrote (I don't know as I haven't listened to such a performance I think). 

The metronome was newly invented in the early 1800s and at first Beethoven (and Salieri) were quite enthusiastic about it as it offered a more precise way of indicating to performers exactly the tempo the composer had in mind. In the late 18th century there were various tempi ordinari being used--that is, "standard tempos" that were widely known. Charles Rosen has an excellent discussion of this in his book on the Beethoven piano sonatas [pp 45 et seq.] But Beethoven came to understand that the metronome did not exactly solve all the problems. In a note written on the manuscript of his song "Nord oder Süd" he wrote:

100 according to Mälzel, but this must be considered applicable only to the first bars, for sentiment also has its tempo and cannot be completely expressed by this number.

Ah, sentiment! The question of "sentiment" or what we might rather call "expression" applies most strongly to slow movements. The problem I see with Beethoven's metronome markings in the slow movement of the Symphony No. 9 is that the opening section,  Adagio molto e cantabile [quarter note = 60] is very difficult to reconcile with the contrasting section Andante moderato [quarter note = 63]. Sixty versus sixty-three is almost no difference at all and if there is no difference, there is no contrast. So in my mind the tempo words Beethoven chose are at odds with the metronome markings. Either the Andante has to be a lot faster (which would be silly) or the Adagio a lot slower (which is the choice Barenboim and a lot of others make). It is not the crudely simplified question of either following Beethoven's metronome markings or ignoring them, it is rather a question of whether you think the metronome marking is more important or the tempo word. Both are viable options, but give different results. Here is a performance conducted by Paavo Järvi of the Symphony No. 9 that sticks pretty closely to the metronome markings. The third movement starts at the 28'00 mark:

I find this an excellent performance, by the way. I really enjoy the rhythmic 'groove' in the faster movements, especially the scherzo. But the adagio does sound a bit, ah, 'jaunty', does it not? And in point of fact, there is virtually no tempo contrast between the B flat opening section and the Andante section in D major. This, to me, is a serious interpretive problem. But you pays your money and you takes your choice. All interpretations are questions of choices. I think that Järvi has an interpretation that works--in some ways more effectively than Barenboim's, but I also think that Barenboim has an interpretation that works--in some ways more effectively than Järvi's.

I often talk about ideology and the unfortunate effects it can have on aesthetics. If I were to make my own choices in this symphony I think I would tend to go along with Järvi for the first and second movements, but with Barenboim for the third. I think the contrast between the Adagio and the Andante is more important than whatever number Beethoven wrote down for the metronome marking. In other words, I think interpretive choices should be based more on musical than ideological considerations. Lurking behind a lot of "movements" in the arts are ideologies. The rule that "Beethoven's metronome markings must always be followed rigidly" is an ideology, not an interpretation.

And by the way, Beethoven left no metronome markings for his late quartets so there the performer is entirely on their own...

Electronic Dance Music

There is supposedly a 'controversy' over Deadmau5 saying that a 'live' show is pretty much

i just roll up with a laptop and a midi controller and “select” tracks n hit a spacebar

(That's taken from his blog, linked from this story in the LA Times.) He goes on to explain

you know what makes the EDM show the crazy amazing show that it is?  you guys do, the fans, the people who came to appreciate the music, the lights, all the other people who came, we just facilitate the means and the pretty lights and the draw of more awesome people like you by our studio productions. 

Let's have a little history of "electronic dance music", shall we? It is a kind of music developed for use in night clubs/dance clubs and a fundamental principle is a heavy, unvarying beat. To this end DJs ("disc jockeys") put together sets of tunes and synchronize them to a single beat. A sort of predecessor to this was the Donna Summer song "I Feel Love" from 1977.

As you can hear, apart from the voice, everything on the recording is electronic using synthesizers and drum machines, not acoustic instruments and musicians. This simplifies both production and consistency enormously. Plus, nobody has to put in any hours learning how to play an instrument. Or is that a plus? Electronica, or the replacement of acoustic instruments with electronic sequencing, continued to infiltrate the pop world. One group in the 1980s that was typical of this trend was the Eurhythmics. Here is one of their songs:

 Let's have a look at a Deadmau5 show:

OK, cool lights. It works, obviously. Everyone is having a good time and there is this mysterious figure up there, wearing the mouse head, mostly concealed behind some sort of console. Hitting the space bar on his laptop.

Now here's the funny thing: I decided to check if these tempi were as uniform as they seemed to be, so I opened up my music notation software (which also can play whatever I notate) and put in a bunch of measures of a simple bass drum beat in 4/4. The default tempo in the program is 120 beats per minute. So I just left it at that and went back to compare it with the songs. The Donna Summer tune is, oddly enough, 120 bpm. The Eurhythmics song is, oddly enough, 120 bpm. And the Deadmau5 song is, oddly enough, 120 bpm. I chose these songs, pretty much at random, before I checked the tempi.

It couldn't possibly be that everyone just uses the default tempo in their software, could it? Naaah, maybe the software defaults to 120 bpm because everyone uses that tempo just because it is the perfect tempo.

I have developed a bit of an allergy to all music that is thumping at me at 120 bpm, though. It's the musical equivalent to every commercial food product being loaded down with high-fructose corn syrup.

Crazy. Amazing.

Honestly, I can remember when music was in DIFFERENT tempos. Not all the same tempo. Some of those tempos were slow...

The Tyranny of the Backbeat

People used to talk about the tyranny of the barline which came from the very useful invention of the barline to organize ensemble music. When the barline, or rather the beat associated with the downbeat, or first beat of the bar, became all-controlling, then it started to be called the "tyranny of the barline". A related complaint was directed against the indiscriminate use of the metronome leading to a rigid sense of the beat. One writer wrote:

A good performance is so full of these minute retardations and accelerations that hardly two measures will occupy exactly the same time. It is notorious that to play with the metronome is to play mechanically - the reason being, of course, that we are then playing by the measure, or rather by the beat, instead of by the phrase. A keen musical instinct revolts at playing even a single measure with the metronome: mathematical exactitude gives us a dead body in place of the living musical organism with its ebb and flow of rhythmical energy. It may therefore be suggested, in conclusion, that the use of the metronome, even to determine the average rate of speed, is dangerous.

— Daniel Gregory Mason; The Tyranny of the Bar-Line

Alas, it seems that skirmish, at least in some areas, is long lost... If you combine a little metronomic beat with the tyranny of the barline and add in a characteristic accentuation that comes from rock n' roll, then you get a structure that underlies an amazing amount of the music we hear every day. I call it the "tyranny of the backbeat". What's a backbeat? Nearly all popular music these days, certainly all that derives from rock, is in 4/4 meter, meaning that beats come in 4 beat packages. Normally the first beat is stressed, which helps to define the package. In rock, the 2nd and 4th beats are stressed instead. This is a kind of syncopation in that it places the accents in an unexpected place. But it is so ubiquitous now, that it is like a rigid Procrustean bed that all music is forced to lie on. Well, a lot of music at least! Here is the locus classicus:

Just let me hear some of that rock'n'roll music

Any old way you choose it

It's got a backbeat, you can't lose it

Any old time you use it

There are exceptions, but they are amazingly few. Here is a rock song where the stresses are reversed. The effect is to restore the feeling of syncopation! Neophyte drummers are so programmed to stress 2 and 4 that they sometimes have difficulty with this song:

UPDATE: Due to link-rot that clip had vanished. If this one goes to, the clip in question is "Sunshine of Your Love by Cream which, due to the inventive drumming of Ginger Baker, does NOT have a backbeat, but instead, heavy stresses on 1 and 3.

Do you hear it? It sounds like the beat is oddly shifted--not because it is, 1 and 3 are stressed--but because the backbeat has become so ubiquitous that it is ingrained into us, at least with this type of music. Let's choose some random examples from YouTube to see how prevalent it is.

I almost thought my brilliant theory was going to be undercut by the first clip, but no, around the 53 second mark it settles into a backbeat.

Yep, more backbeat. Oh, by the way, I am finding these by going to YouTube and typing in a single letter to see what comes up. I started with 'L'. Here's another:

Now that's a particularly aggressive example. The backbeat is bad enough, but when it is delivered by a drum machine, I like it even less. Another:

Yep, but at least this time it's a real drummer. I've done 'l', 'm', 'n', and 'o'. How about 'p'?

That's the first one with a slight divergence from the backbeat. While two is heavily stressed, they mess around with 4 a bit.

But I think you get my point. And my impression is that with the generic stuff you often hear out in public, in malls and restaurants, it is even worse. AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have this vision of generations of impressionable young minds and ears growing up permanently infected with the backbeat, unable to feel and appreciate the subtle expression and rubato that we have enjoyed for centuries if not millennia.

Music and Slow Time

I thought that my title was a quotation, but I can't seem to find it. In any case, it's appropriate. I'm going to talk about tempo--how fast music is played. One thing I noticed in my comparison of several different performances of a Bach gigue on violin was that many--most-- heck, all--of the performances seemed fast to me. Why was that? I think that a good tempo is one that allows the listener to absorb the musical texture: harmony, melody and rhythm. Bach's textures are often so rich that the listener can barely absorb them at the tempos we hear today.


How fast did Bach play and conduct his own music? We have no real evidence. Scholars have been arguing over this for a long time but unless someone invents a time machine, we are not likely to know. There are some general guidelines, but they give no specifics we can use for a particular piece. The metronome was invented by a fellow named Johann Maelzel in 1815 and was immediately latched onto by Beethoven and others to indicate exactly what tempo was desired. At the beginning of the score the exact number of beats per minute was indicated: ♪ = 60 for example. But the bloom was soon off the rose. Beethoven is reported to have said that the metronome marking is only good for the first four bars, after that you are on your own. Brahms said "I am of the opinion that metronome marks go for nothing. As far as I know, all composers have, as I, retracted their metronome marks in later years."


For Bach, who died in 1750, we have no metronome markings, of course. In the world of performance the temptation for virtuosos is always to just push the tempo a bit faster. It might just win the competition. But I doubt this does Bach or the audience any favors. I'm not the only one who thinks so. Here is a quote from composer Jan Swafford writing in Slate a few years ago:

We're seeing the Vivaldi-ization of Bach: gloom banished, minimal variety, implacably crisp, bouncy. And the slim 'n' speedy virus has infected good conductors. When the well-reviewed 1989 John Eliot Gardiner recording of Bach's "St. Matthew Passion" appeared, as a Gardiner fan I ran to get it. This time the great chorus of lamentation that begins the "Passion" was indeed an occasion of mourning: I'd blown 20 bucks. Gardiner takes the chorus of lamentation at near-gigue tempo. Jesus is crucified, his performance cries. Let's dance!

 I'm tempted to start a "slow music" movement analogous to the "slow food" movement. Get your tasty, all-natural, slow-simmered Bach right here!


Of all the different Bach performances I compared, the one that really stood out was by a Hungarian violinist named Kristóf Baráti. Click on the link to go to a Wikipedia article on him. Here he is playing the Siciliano from the G minor solo violin sonata:

Nothing too fast about that tempo! Good grief, why would anyone want to rush through music like this? Here's one:

But the real sins are committed with the fast movements. Here is the Presto from the same sonata played by Barati:

Pretty fast, but he has such control that it succeeds. Here is Grumiaux playing the same movement. The Presto starts at 2:25:

The problem I have with both of these is that there are some subtle rhythmic shifts going on that tend to just whistle by without the listener grasping them. I would really like to hear them. Here is Rachel Podger, the presto starts at 3:04:

That is a very credible performance, but even with some nice gestures, it still seems fast to me. This is a very complex piece and I doubt anyone in the audience is going to doze off if we just slow it down a bit. Do you? Let me end by going back to Kristof Barati. His performance of the Chaconne from the D minor Partita is just the kind of tempo I'm talking about. Unfortunately, Blogger refuses to find the clip so I can't embed it. But here are the links:
Barati, Chaconne, Part 1
Barati, Chaconne, Part 2