"You can still write an average rap song"

This is one video clip that HAD to be shared:

Heh.

"High Art for the Elite"

Now and then I like to drop in on Sinfini, an online classical music magazine, to see what they are up to. Journalist Paul Morley writes a series for them and the current article is about his discovery of the string quartet. Mr. Morley started out managing punk bands. He neither reads music nor plays an instrument, but for a BBC documentary spent a year at the Royal Academy of Music trying to learn how to be a composer.

What sparked this post was a little blurb about his series on the string quartet:

Late in life, Paul Morley has finally discovered the joy of the string quartet. For years he had assumed it was ‘high art for the elite’; in short, the string quartet had an image problem.

I guess if you come from the punk rock milieu, then anything that is "high art for the elite" is going to rub you the wrong way. But when did this become the norm? When and how did the idea that anything that was high art or for the elite become cursed? After all, as many have noted, being of the elite in, say, the sport or academic world is highly valued. If you are the best pitcher in baseball or the best tennis or golf pro, you receive high praise and big bucks. But if you are the the best string quartet or pianist you are sneered at for just that. You have "an image problem".

There is a very strange inversion going on here and I am puzzled as to the source. Who benefits from this pulling down of high art? And why does music seem to be picked out for special treatment? Those who would scoff at Beethoven are not likely to do the same at Leonardo da Vinci or Goya. After all, the great painters are surely also purveyors of "high art for the elite" but disparaging them is rare while putting down the great composers seems to be cool. Why do only they have an "image problem"?

However, it seems that Mr. Morley comes, not to bury the string quartet, but to praise it. Let's take a closer look at his introduction to the string quartet. Here is how it begins:

I began to realise that following the history of the string quartet was a way of roughly tracking the history of classical music, from the very first composers who conceived the format, and made up the abstract rules and regulations, through the adjustments in economic and artistic context between the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 20th century, through every important, innovative composer since. It was also at the centre of the classical experience, because a composer experiences the writing of a string quartet both as a technical exercise, enfolded inside a relatively fixed set of parameters, a fundamental inherited framework, however elastic, and also as a chance to dream of the fantastic, to add to the vocabulary and the style without straying so far that it ceases to be a string quartet.

So far so good? Well, not really. As in most journalism, this is woven from half-truths and misunderstandings. When journalists try to explore a world they are not familiar with for the sake of enlightening the masses, what they mostly communicate is confusion and cliché. The history of the string quartet is a poor way to "track" the history of classical music because it is a late-comer: the string quartet dates from the 1760s which means that it comes after about 700 years of music history in Western Europe.

The first composers were really just one composer, Joseph Haydn, and the last thing he would have thought of doing was to make up "abstract rules and regulations". The so-called rules, which are really more like formative principles, were only sorted out in retrospect. Composers don't follow rules much when they compose. But Mr. Morley's prejudices about classical music makes him believe that this is how it works. And, of course, there were lots of "important, innovative" composers who composed little or nothing for string quartet--Stravinsky, for example.

True, a composer may choose to write a string quartet as a "technical exercise", indeed most have probably done so while students. But once they become real composers, they do not do that sort of thing. Working within a "fundamental inherited framework" is really a student activity.

So, virtually ever statement in this opening paragraph is wrong. That doesn't bode too well! The errors continue:

For 50 years, between the 1750s and his death in 1806, Haydn wrote 68, establishing the model that would influence Mozart.

As I mentioned before, Haydn's first string quartets date from the 1760s, not 1750s and he died in 1809, not 1806. Also, he did more than influence Mozart. Mozart's quartets were written as a response to those of Haydn and the six published in 1785 are known as the "Haydn" quartets because they are dedicated to him.

I will forgo quoting any more because there follows quite a lot of purple prose trying to gin up, through metaphor, a picture of the string quartet. Then there is a list of string quartet composers, larded with more frothy prose.

We are supposed to praise efforts like this because they supposedly build audiences, but really, isn't Mr, Morley just another one of those "friends" that really pose a danger to classical music? Why do we go to people like him when we want a popular article on classical music? He is obviously unqualified.

Here is the Quatuor Mosaïques with Haydn's String Quartet, op. 20, no. 5:

A Little on Guitar Technique

I haven't posted on guitar technique for a while. I hope you non-guitarists will forgive me but, who knows, I might say something useful even to non-guitarists.

A while ago I put up my performance of the Etude No. 1 by Heitor Villa-Lobos. Here it is again:

This is possibly the most popular etude of the twelve, not just with guitarists, but also with audiences. It poses some unique technical challenges. There is a new critical edition of the Etudes by Frédéric Zigante that takes into account some manuscript versions of the pieces and corrects some misprints. It is an excellent edition with complete scholarly apparatus about editions and sources. But, there are still some problems. I think the major problem with this etude is the right hand fingering which is found in a ms. of Villa-Lobos. He was a fine composer, but one suspects his guitar technique was less than polished. The problem with the RH fingering indicated is that you will probably never be able to achieve a truly even effect. There is a better fingering that aligns the RH with the meter more effectively. I have been using it so long myself that I honestly don't remember if I discovered it independently or if someone showed it to me. In any case, here is the first measure as a sample with Villa-Lobos' fingering and mine underneath:

Click to enlarge

The problem this solves is the one created by following what Villa-Lobos considered to be a logical right hand fingering in terms of assigning strings to fingers. Unfortunately, this creates a problem in the third beat where a very weak finger combination, m a, falls on a strong beat metrically. What happens is that the rhythm at this point tends to limp. I'm sure there are very gifted technicians that can make the arpeggio even despite this, but I'm not one of them, nor are any of the students I have taught over thirty years. So there is a simple solution: simply adapt the fingering to the meter, which is what the lower fingering, numbered "2" does. The thumb plays on the beginning of each beat, making this fingering feel much more natural. The string-crossing requires a bit of practice, but it is easily achievable.

There are a couple of other issues with this piece. First of all, the tempo. The etude is often played at MM 120 to the quarter or even faster, at perhaps 132 or more. This may be achievable technically, but notice what Villa-Lobos writes: "Allegro non troppo". NOT too fast. Allegro is estimated at being between 109 and 132, so a not too fast allegro could easily be around 100. I think my recording, which dates back a number of years, is actually too fast! Even and controlled is better than speedy with this etude.

Now, how to practice it. Over the years I came up with an excellent practice method that will just about guarantee success. Practice the arpeggio by itself on open strings and also damp the strings with your left hand around the tenth to twelfth frets. You will get just a thumping kind of sound, which is very good for you to listen to for an even touch and rhythm. Practice this arpeggio VERY SLOWLY until it is memorized and very even. The next step is to practice it with different rhythms as below:

Click to enlarge

Once you can play all these rhythms with complete control and evenness, then incrementally speed them up until you reach 100 on the metronome. As far as the argpeggio goes, that's it. It might take a while, but it is an extremely good discipline for the right hand. Once you have the arpeggio going well, you can try it with the actual chords. Having real pitches instead of just thumps is a real thrill, which adds to the fun of playing this etude.

UPDATE: I should probably mention that the way to practice those rhythmic patterns is to do each one by itself many times in a row before going on to the next one.

The only remaining problems with the etude are measures 23 and 24 and 31 and 32 where you have to skip around, first with slurs and then with harmonics. But just practice each passage very slowly until you have it mastered. No real tricks here.

Don't rush it and you will have an excellent addition to your repertoire.

With Friends Like These...

A while back I mentioned a particularly lengthy book review by Richard Taruskin in which he bemoans the fact that:

The discourse supporting classical music so reeks of historical blindness and sanctimonious self-regard as to render the object of its ministrations practically indefensible.

He goes on to say that one must always be prepared to defend classical music from its devotees! I think we have seen a lot of examples recently. The Minnesota Orchestra seems desperately to need to defend itself from its own management! In this post I gave reasons why I thought that classical music needed a defense against the head of Universal Music's classical music unit. It seems that classical music also needs to defend itself against the ex-CEO of the Brooklyn Philharmonic. He said:

The most common practices in classical musical venues today represent a contrite response to a totalitarian belief system no one in America buys into anymore. To participate obediently is to act as a slave. It is counter to our culture. And it is not, I am certain, what composers would have wanted: A musical North Korea. Who but a bondservant would desire such a ghastly fate? Quickly now: Rise to your feet and applaud. The Dear Leader is coming on stage to conduct. He will guide us, ever so worshipfully through the necrocracy of composers we are obliged to forever adore.

I'm sure this is very gratifying to the ego of the CEO, but it does nothing more than lower the prestige of classical music while it does not lead more people to attend concerts. Why bother when the patrimony of classical music is nothing but a necrocracy? That last quote comes from this article, which gives a pretty good overview of the problem. Here is a sample of the article's take on things:

Orchestra leaders bought a lot of snake oil in hopes of democratizing the concert experience, and now they have an audience that views classical music as just one among many entertainment options, and as not very entertaining compared with bubble-gum pop and action movies. They talk about education but have in many places done away with program notes. Marketing material uses a hyperbolic language of emotional engagement to oversell the concert experience, implying that one has only to pull up a rug and surrender to the music. That musical appreciation takes work, and that its greatest rewards are cumulative over a lifetime rather than immediate, is not much discussed.

"Snake oil" sounds like an accurate estimate. The article makes the further point that everything that orchestras do thinking they will attract bigger audiences--pops concerts, trendy things like "crowd-sourced" compositions, politically-correct messages and other kinds of musical trivia--tend to drive away serious listeners. That leads to a death-spiral of more trivia and fewer and fewer serious listeners.

I think we can see Taruskin's point that a lot of the so-called defenders of classical music, the people who write the books of music appreciation that avoid actually informing the reader, the popularizers that cheapen the music, the syntheses of classical and pop, the marketing and performing of classical music with a pop sensibility, all this is what we really need to defend ourselves against. The traitors in our midst are far more dangerous than the barbarians out there roaming the hinterlands with their boom box cars.

Let's end with one of those dead composers that is oppressing us, the Piano Concerto No. 25 by Mozart, played by Mitsuko Uchida:

Musicians Looking Silly

As I have probably said a few times before, I have always had a problem with marketing. The idea of myself, or worse, my performance of Bach or Villa-Lobos as being a commodity, a product to be flogged in the marketplace troubles me. No surprise then that my career as a performer was less successful than it might have been! But I don't think I am wrong to be troubled by things like this. It also troubles me to see what classical musicians are reduced to these days in the attempt to sell their wares. Example, an album cover:

Honestly, you see that and all you really want to do is start a caption contest, don't you? Something like Rattle shouting, "Damn it, Lang Lang, I've told you before, that's a quarter-rest, not a half-rest!" Or Lang Lang crooning, "Is this my best side? Or should I turn to the right?" Here is a "trailer", meaning a little video clip advertisement for the album. YouTube refuses to embed, so you will have to follow this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ixv9iH4fK1c

I'm afraid that I stopped listening when Simon Rattle commented on Lang Lang's being "sheerly, uncannily accurate". Well, sure, obviously, knowing he had a recording session coming up, he practiced a bit. I can tolerate the white lies, half-truths, out and out fabrications and smelly little falsehoods of most advertising as they concern things I am not very interested in such as laundry detergent, blue jeans and over-priced perfumes. But when they are connected with something I am interested in and respect, classical music, then I find them quite intolerable!

I like to imagine what Bartók might have thought or said about this marketing and performance of his concerto...

I'm afraid that whenever I see musicians mugging for the camera like this, over-dramatizing their gestures and desperately trying to catch our attention (and dollar), it leaves me just a bit cold. I tend to avoid this sort of thing. I prefer musicians who happen to have some dignity. Who are trying to express something other than mere accuracy and their own narcissism. Here is Grigory Sokolov playing the Schubert Sonata, D. 960:

More on Scientism

I'll bet some of my readers think my recurring attacks on what I call "scientism" or what seems to pass for scientific research into and explanation of music are eccentric at best. I've just got a hang-up about science. Not true! In fact, there are other people who share the same misgivings. Here is an excellent essay on the subject by Leo Wieseltier, critiquing Steven Pinker's recent attempt to defend scientism.

An excerpt:

The translation of nonscientific discourse into scientific discourse is the central objective of scientism. It is also the source of its intellectual perfunctoriness. Imagine a scientific explanation of a painting—a breakdown of Chardin’s cherries into the pigments that comprise them, and a chemical analysis of how their admixtures produce the subtle and plangent tonalities for which they are celebrated. Such an analysis will explain everything except what most needs explaining: the quality of beauty that is the reason for our contemplation of the painting. Nor can the new “vision science” that Pinker champions give a satisfactory account of aesthetic charisma. The inadequacy of a scientistic explanation does not mean that beauty is therefore a “mystery” or anything similarly occult. It means only that other explanations must be sought, in formal and iconographical and emotional and philosophical terms.

Read the whole thing.

Here is a little chamber sonata by Dietrich Buxtehude, the northern German composer who was an influence on Bach:

A Metaphor Gone Astray

I was reading a piece about economics in the New York Times and was brought to a halt by this, the final paragraph:

For the foreseeable future economic theory should be understood more on the model of music theory than Newtonian theory. The Fed chairman must, like a first violinist tuning the orchestra, have the rare ear to fine-tune complexity (probably a Keynesian ability to fine-tune at that). Like musicians’, economists’ expertise is still a matter of craft. They must avoid the hubris of thinking their theory is perfectly suited to the task, while employing it wisely enough to produce some harmony amid the cacophony.

I'm sure that seemed like a really clever metaphor to the writers, a couple of philosophers. There was a time when all persons who thought of themselves as intellectuals actually knew something about music. They probably had a piano at home and could read music. Maybe even knew a little music theory. But the way they word this metaphor reveals considerable ignorance about music and music theory.

There are three parts to this complex metaphor:

1. Economic theory is like music theory
2. Example: Keynsian manipulation of the economy is like the concertmaster's tuning of the orchestra
3. Example: if successful, this manipulation will result in harmony

The conceit that economic theory is more like music theory than Newtonian theory, i.e. that it is non-scientific is based on no more knowledge about music theory than that it is some sort of "craft", i.e. something like basket-weaving or water dowsing. Music theory is a fairly complex endeavor that involves quite a bit of predictive modeling, like a science, but when practiced at the highest levels also involves aesthetics and history.

Music theory, unlike economics, is able to make accurate predictions. Well, not about the future! So it is not science in that sense. But about musical structures, yes, which is a feasible goal. Music theory has no mandate to predict what future composers might do. But it can tell us a lot about what composers have done. For example, here is a typical music theory prediction: every piece written by Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven ends with a perfect authentic cadence. Music theory not only tells us this, but tells us why.

The authors made a rudimentary mistake in terminology when they said "a first violinist" tunes the orchestra. There are a whole bunch of first violinists in the orchestra, the leader of them, and of the orchestra as a whole, is the concertmaster. He comes on stage before the conductor and asks the principal oboist to sound an A. He then oversees the tuning of the orchestra by section. In the clip below, the winds go first, then the low strings and finally the high strings. He does not "tune the orchestra" in the sense required by the metaphor at all.

Finally, music theorists do not try to produce "harmony amid the cacophony". Instead, they try to explain how harmony works and, in some extreme cases, how the cacophony is either not as cacaphonous as it sounds or how it functions in the structure. Music theory tries to show how the music structure works and the aesthetic result. Actually, it has very little to do with either how economic theory works or how scientific theory works.

My recurring beef with scientific research into music is that it usually ignores the fact that we already have a highly developed theoretical way of approaching music, called music theory, that has been developed over the last thousand years. In comparison, these scientific studies seem clumsy and ignorant of how music really works.

Let's have a little orchestral music to close. Haydn, Symphony No. 104: