HE'S BACH, AND THIS TIME, HE'S BAD

New Year's Resolution 2017 Edition: Listen to all of Bach's cantatas according to their original performance dates (i.e., today features BWV 190, BWV 41 and BWV 16 from the first, second and third Leipzig cycles respectively, as well as BWVs 171 (pr. 1729), 143, 248/4 and 134a.)

Bach's cantatas follow the Lutheran calendar (obviously, in their capacity as liturgical pieces) and the seasonal flow of the year permeates their texts, so they lend themselves to a chronological listen-through.

I'm using John Eliot Gardiner's glorious Music in the Castle of Heaven (Gardiner's 2000 "Bach Pilgrimage" gave me the idea in the first place), the excellent Bach Cantata Website and whatever other internet goodies I can locate as sources.

We kick off with BWV 190, Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied, performed Jan. 1, 1724 in Leipzig. I prefer the punchier Gardiner performance to Koopman's Low Country mellow, as it seems more fitting for a New Years celebration where every second word is loben ("to praise").

The final line of the fifteen-ish minute piece is the most interesting. After rousing, jubilant music and psalmic ebullience, the choral concludes with "Die Heuchler mach zuschanden / Hier und an allem Ort" ("confound/ruin the hypocrite, here and in every place"). Oddly out of place, to a modern ear, for a piece entirely dedicated to ringing in the new year, but I suppose 18th century churchgoers were used to sterner admonitions.

Anyway, we'll see where this leads.

TRIPPIN' THRU THE TRECENTO

Now in the trecento. Italian ballata by Lorenzo Masini (d. c. 1372/73) with words by Boccaccio (though not one in the Decameron). Non so qual i' mi voglia.

TARUSKIN ON POSTPOSTMODERN POMPOSITY

Still reading the first volume of Taruskin's Oxford History of Music. 

He brings up a nifty little 14th century motet entitled Musicalis Sciencia/Sciencie Laudabili, a sort of satirical piece which takes the form of a dialogue between Music and Rhetoric, who enumerate various stylistic faults musicians and composers are prone to, even as the motet commits each one.

Thus Taruskin:

"Such a satire requires an attitude of ironic detachment, a consciousness of art as artifice, and a wish to make that artifice the principle focus of attention. These are traits we normally (and perhaps self-importantly ) ascribe to the 'modern' temperament, not the 'medieval' one. Only we (we tend to think), with our modern notions of psychology and our modern sense of "self," are capable of self-reflection. Only we, in short, can be 'artists' as opposed to 'craftsmen.' Not so."

(270).

Ditto.

A FRANKLY ELIDED 'ELEISON'

Kyrie IX (Cum Jubilo) performed by the Choral-Schola der Wiener Hofburgkapelle.

Melody which Taruskin dates to "around 1100." Apparently the Franks liked "formal rounding and regularity" as he puts it. Figured I'd share it on the merits of a). that crazymule elision b). the melisma on the final kyrie eleison.  

Melody's in the Liber usualis if Wikipedia can be believed.

As you'll hear, the text isn't terribly difficult: Kyrie eleison x 3, Christe eleison x 3, kyrie eleison x 3. Keep it simple stupid.

HURRYIN' TO THE MOON: AKKADIAN MUSIC 101

Clear as mud.

Still thoroughly enjoying Richard Taruskin's Oxford History of Western Music (Vol. I): Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century. Today, just a bit about the Hurrian "hymn to Nikkal" (= wife of the (Ugaritic) moon god Yarikh, cf. Sumerian Ningal/Nanna couple), also known as Hurrian Hymn 6.

This nice little chunk of over-cooked mud is the oldest substantially complete work of notated music we can lay claim to. It theoretically dates from as early as 1400 B.C. Some sunburned European archeologists discovered the tablet at the site of the Royal Palace at Ugarit.

Of course, there are about one hundred thousand competing interpretations of how the thing actually sounds. This link seems (not exactly an expert judge here) to do a decent job presenting some of the problems and some of the would-be problem-solvers.

TARUSKIN: SNARK, MUSIC AND NOTKER BALBULUS

What manner of smarm is this?

Just started volume uno of Richard Taruskin's well-recieved Oxford History of Western Music (2010 re-/"2nd" editon).

The man's got snark, which immediately wins me over (example uno: "By critical study I mean a study that does not take literacy for granted, or simply tout it as unique Western achievement, but rather "interrogates" it (as our hermeneutics of suspicion now demands) for its consequences," (xiv-xv).

The bulk of his intro is dedicated to lambasting the self-destructively rarefied trend in musicology (read: academia in toto): "this sort of writing gives everybody an alibi ... Because nobody is doing anything, the authors never have to deal with motives or values, with choices or responsibilities, and that is their alibi," (xviii). Not brain-shattering, no, but at least he doesn't let it slide.

His writing's excellent imho, but I'm only a few pages in. A bit of pithiness goes a long way.

Another point in Taruskin's favor is his prompt namedrop of one of my personal medieval favorites: Notker Balbulus ("The Stammerer"). Poor guy wrote De Carolo Magno, a collection of anecdotes about Charlemagne. But really all you need to know is his name: Notker Balbulus.

More to come.

SILLY SONGS WITH GUSTAVUS

The horror^2.

Reason numero uno I can't take Holst seriously (besides the mug featured in previous post): The lower brass part in Dirge for Two Veterans reminds me of the theme song to Veggie Tales. En fait, I literally can't hear that song without seeing Larry the Cucumber's terrifying visage. (Let's face it folks, that cucumber's mouth is one mind-number of a black abyss.) But still, Larry the Cucumber. Playing a dirge. I'm sorry, it just happens.

That being said, I should really give Holst some slack for sounding like a film composer since he seems to've indirectly written the score for two-thirds of the Hollywood movies out there by way of film composers ripping off his stuff.

GUSTAVUS THEODORE VON HOLST BY JUPITER

Can you say dweeb?

I've always had some trouble getting into his music -- smacks overmuch of a self-important film soundtrack -- but Holst has just jumped up a few rungs in my estimation by having enrolled himself in the University College London at age 21 to learn Sanskrit. Kudos Gustavus. Apparently he caught a substantial whiff of the whole craze for exotic Orientalism that ripped through Europe at the time. Or he just read too much Max Müller. I should know all this, but I've really never looked into the man with much thoroughness. Listening to BBC's Composer of the Week bit on him as we speak. Still get too much soundtrack vibes for my taste

Tidbit: Holst is an archaic way of referring to a resident of Holstein (of Schleswig-Holstein fame). The name Holstein in turn derives from a  Saxon tribe variously referred to as Holcetae, Holsati, Holtzati, (per Adam von Bremen); in Holsatiam, Holsatiis (Saxo Grammaticus); Holcete (Annalista Saxo), etc. Bremen interprets the name thusly: "Holcetae, dicti a silvis, quas accolunt."

Johannes Hoops' Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde (accessed gracias Google) etymologizes like so: 1) holt (cf. Holz, Gehölz, Wald) + 2) sat, setio -seton, -seti, -cetae, -saten, -sazon sind auf germ. *setjon, "einer der irgendwo sitzt, lebt, 'Bewohner.' " = Waldsassen, Waldbewohner. In fine: Holst < Holstein < Holt + *setjon = wood-dwellers.

Drool if you must.

ANGELICA BILTÀ: OUR MAN LANDINI

Daaaaw

If Hildegard von Bingen's the Woman, Francesco Landini's the Man. At least among awesome 13th century composers. Anonymous 4's The Second Circle: Love Songs of Francesco Landini is absospiffinlutely luvverly.

And the NPR website just informed me that the Anonymous 4 group will be retiring this year. And there was much weeping and gnash-gnash-gnashing

Title text is taken from Landini's ballata for 2 voices, S. 54 Angelica biltà venut' è in terra. And here's the text:

Angelica biltà venut' è in terra. 

Dunque ciascun c'ama veder belezza, 

virtù, atti vezosi e legiadria,

vengha veder costei che sol vagheza, 

arà die lei si com' l'anima mia. 

Ma non credo con pace tanta guerra. 

Angelica biltà.

To be perfectly honest I'm not totally sure what the "ma non credo con pace tanta guerra" refers to.

BLOG BACKLOG: UPDATES

Afraid my productivity has slipped a bit of late. Not sure if it's work-related or just getting old. Current status of projects:

Still working through Schulenberg's The Keyboard Music of J.S. Bach a few pieces at a time. Today I listened to a little trio of minuets (BWV 841-843) Bach seems to have used pedagogically. About half-way through. The sheer exhaustiveness of it is impressive, and it complements listening quite well, particularly as Schulenberg doesn't address the listening experience as much as editorial, manuscript and musicological issues behind the song.

Also about halfway through the complete Kinder- und Hausmärchen of the Grimm Bros, which is about as peculiar as you might expect. Unfortunately that's about the only language work I've got at the moment, although I watched a French film pretty much every night in January.

 

HILDEGARD VON BINGEN

Just listened to Sequentia's sublime rendition of Hildegard von Bingen's O vis aeternitatis (~ Power of eternity), the first track on their Canticles of Ecstasy album. Also found (via this page) a link to a image of the original manuscript repro'd below.

Old lady von Bingen is one of the most interesting of many interesting personalities from the Middle Ages. She invented a language, alphabet, composed music, wrote mystical works -- what's not to like? Shamefully, this is the first time I've actually heard any of her music.

Image below's Blatt 466 of the Rupertsberger Riesenkodex, which contains a copy of O vis aeternitatis. The Riesenkodex anthologized all the works of Hildegard von Bingen 12th century style. 466-81 contain her musical compositions. I must needs read this.

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CARMINA BURANA

Bache, bene venies
gratus et optatus
per quem noster animus
fit letificatus.

Thus begins the Clemencic Consort's 3 CD recording of a selection from the Carmina Burana - a collection of Golliard poems/texts/songs from the 11-13th century. Basically, the equivalent of a satirical college student magazine/newspaper done medieval style.

WALDSTEIN: I HAD TOO MUCH TO DREAM LAST NIGHT

Off to work. Here's Richard Goode playing the rather eery introduzione/adagio middle movement of the Waldstein sonata. Listening to said sonata in the dark and total stillness of 1:30 a.m. (as I did last night) is one bejesus of an experience. More on this later.

EARLIEST KNOWN POLYPHONIC MUSIC DISCOVERED

Cool.

DIABELLI VARIATIONS: IT'S FULL OF STARS

Listening to the Diabelli variations straight through is like launching from earth, journeying into space and eventually passing out of the universe altogether. The first theme and the initial few variations are almost laughably bombastic, but the theme gradually shrinks in relation to the overall soundscape or just the "feelingness" of the set... By Var. X it's "OK, yeah, this is fairly clever. Maybe there's more to this." By Var. XX it's "this is jaw-droppingly sublime, " and the overwhelming vastness of space kicks in. From Var. XXIX through XXXI the original theme's become this little blip journeying to the edge of the universe. Then you have the sudden, shocking XXXII fugue striking like the edge of the universe and the blip goes into some kind of polyphonic/transdimensional journey Space Odyssey style. Then there's the finale XXIII. And the original theme's prominent -- but fundamentally altered. It returns the theme to a concrete reality, but in this ethereal, transcendent, starchild kind of way. So, basically, Space Odyssey is a ripoff of the Diabelli variations. All that, from this silly little line by Diabelli.

SCHIFF TO BRENDEL

Listening to Schiff's lecturette on Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 3 in C major. He mentions Alfred Brendel's writing on humor in music (oo la la). Tried unsuccessfully to locate a copy online. It's in his Collected Essays. I'll try to get my hands on it.

WHEN THE TONGUES OF FLAME ARE IN-FOLDED / INTO THE CROWNED KNOT OF FIRE

I have now completed my multi-day marathon listening to a complete cycle of Beethoven's string quartets. Among other things, this experience has taught me that I am completely inequipped to write about music of this caliber in any sort of directly responsive, analytical way. My immediate impulse is to write a piece of fiction or parable, but veiling their inadequacy in indirection seems rather cheap (T.S. Eliot, that's a slight dig at you, but its primarily motivated by envy). Therefore, I will say nothing. Except that gosh it makes me want to learn how to play an instrument.

...Although I will say just hearing those late quartet's in sequence was pretty darn sublime.

And... Phase II will involve listening to all of Beethoven's piano sonatas in chronological order. I  found this fascinating series of lectures by Andras Schiff that I'm going to listen to as I go along.

In the mean time, still plugging along in Barry Cooper's Beethoven and reading bits of George Steiner's monograph on Antigones.

PIZZICATO, PIZZICATO LET ME GO

Harpo van Beethoven

Beethoven's String Quartet No. 10 in E-flat major (nicknamed the "Harp" quartet because of the extensive use of pizzicato in the first movement) remains my all time favoritest of his middle quartets. The trio of Razumovskys (Nos. 7-9) are famous as the chamberwork equivalent to ol' Ludwig van's Symphony No. 3 "Eroica" (i.e. crazy, groundbreaking and the moment when Beethoven becomes Beethoven). The "Serioso" quartet gets top billing for just how audacious it is. But none of them can beat the "Harp." The first movement's got that strangely satisfying sort of warm, glowing, healthy mellow-but-ebullient thing that only Beethoven really does. The slow movement's sad, tranquil and beautiful. The presto is really just as insane as Beethoven ever really gets: it's Jaws meets Psycho meets skeleton dance meets ragtime, and some. The last movement's this lovely little whirlwind of variations that alternate between explosive emotionality and barely-bottled melodrama. The coda says it all: a sustained, blinding onrush of strings instantly resolves itself at the last (literal) second. That glorious Beethovenian sense of Germanic humor is omnipresent throughout the whole piece.

I would also like to take this opportunity to put forward the theory that Harpo Marx is the reincarnation of Ludwig van Beethoven.

PROPERTIED AS ALL THE TUNED SPHERES

A Wikipedia reference on the article for Musica universalis:  

 Houlding (2000) p.28: "The doctrine of the Pythagoreans was a combination of science and mysticism… Like Anaximenes they viewed the Universe as one integrated, living organism, surrounded by Divine Air (or more literally 'Breath'), which permeates and animates the whole cosmos and filters through to individual creatures… By partaking of the core essence of the Universe, the individual is said to act as a microcosm in which all the laws in the macrocosm of the Universe are at work".

Then look at Cleopatra's lines:

His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
That grew the more by reaping: his delights
Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above
The element they lived in: in his livery
Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
As plates dropp'd from his pocket.

Mhm-hmm...

Shakespeare strikes again! Also the "his voice was propertied/as all the tuned spheres" is totally going in Music of the Spheres.

THREE IN ONE

Just a little tidbit from the earsense chamber music database. N.B. that last sentence. Sounds like Music of the Spheres material.

All three of the Razumovsky quartets are conceived on larger scale that even the most noteworthy of their predecessors from any composer. Beethoven’s genius enabled him to do this while, at the same time, strengthening a sense of unity across the greater expanse. Op. 59, No. 1 is famous as the first quartet to omit the repeat of exposition: a false start immediately diverts into an enormous development section with the paradoxical effect of tightening the entire movement into a single gesture. Two of the quartets fuse their last movements together without a break in the music, a further technique of joining separate parts into a larger, unified whole. There are symmetries separated by vast distances such as the beginning and end of the third quartet. It can be argued that there are even specific harmonic relationships between the end of one quartet and the beginning of the next. Many have suggested that Beethoven conceived of the three separate Razumovsky quartets as a unified whole. The vast first movement of Op. 59, No. 1 is not fully balanced until one reaches its magnificent counterpart in the finale of Op. 59, No. 3. Perhaps the three quartets function like a gigantic three movement work with a broad and complex first movement in F major, a tense contrasting movement in e minor, and a bright, exultant finale in C major. A performance of the complete set in a single concert gives this very impression. With the proper preparation for its context within this larger setting, the third quartet acquires a further triumphal radiance. The distinguished scholar Leonard Ratner suggests that all of Beethoven’s quartets may even form a kind of mega-work, a single great narrative that stands apart from all other music in history.

— This may be courtesy Kai Christensen, but there's no signature to be found.