Academic
These are essays written for some academic
purpose e.g. assignments. Thought it would
be nice just to put up here for anyone's
reading pleasure. Enjoy! Feel free to make
use of some of the material (but at least
do quote the relevant sources!)
This should put off those who
ain't interested :)
An analysis of the 3rd movement of
Beethoven
Symphony No. 1
This analysis is broken into two major parts, the Menuetto proper and the Trio, both of which a general description will be given followed by a discussion on it.
Menuetto
The third movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 1 begins with a deviation from convention, just like the first movement, with its C7 minor chord. Beethoven keeps the listener guessing as to where the tonality of C is eventually reached. The first three bars only gives a slight hint at even a very unstable C major – the violas, cellos and double basses half-heartedly emphasizing their C’s, and this modulates to a definite G major towards the end of the first eight bars. One would then expect this set of eight bars to be answered, musically, by perhaps a short developmental section lasting about 16 bars, by the end of which, the tonality of C will be reached. Beethoven, however, writes another 70 or so bars, firstly developing on what may seem as the “reverse” of the opening ascending motif. The music then modulates along the minor direction before reaching the unlikely key of Db major. At this point, Beethoven plays around with the original motif and its “reverse”, exemplified by the falling figures on the flutes and violins and the ascending figures in the bassoons, violas and cellos in bars 25 to 33. He then decides that the music was to embark on another ascent towards the dominant tonality. Only in bar 58 is a sure tonality in C is reached, even then with slight uncertain skips a semitone above and below. This section ends with a resounding tutti deeply rooted in the tonality of C. All of this is to be done at an unusually fast tempo, of a dotted minim being equal to 108 crotchet beats per minute, as indicated by Beethoven himself. It is given the marking “Allegro molto e vivace”.
The essence of all this was that already in the first 80 bars of the third movement, Beethoven had, and probably would have wanted to, deviated from convention. He does it in the following two major ways:
(a) Tempo
Beethoven called his movement a Menuetto, or minuet. A minuet in a Haydn or Mozart symphony would have been much slower, often in a court-like manner. In fact, minuets were what the aristocrats of his time danced to, something only for the rich. However Beethoven’s minuet is clearly at a too fast tempo to deem it suitable for dancing. The minuet was approaching the form of a scherzo instead. From this we can see two things. First was that Beethoven introduced this “scherzo” to replace the minuet as a standard movement in symphonic form. Indeed many composers after Beethoven had continued this practice, and sometimes to great dramatic effect. The (non-three-timed, however) “Stalin” scherzo of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10 is one such example. The second thing that could be seen stems from the meaning of the word “scherzo” which is a “joke”. Labelling the movement a Menuetto while giving it the tempo of a scherzo is a joke in itself. Beethoven would have probably imagined the aristocrats dancing to his impossible menuetto, thus getting back at them, at a time where division of society into the rich and poor was prevalent.
(b)
Dominance of the dominant (of a key)
Beethoven’s
contemporaries did not respond favourably to his first symphony, in general, one
of the reasons being because the harmonic material employed by Beethoven is not
dominated by the tonality of C but that of its dominant G. Again here Beethoven
deviates from convention, unlike his predecessors Haydn and Mozart. But why did
he choose the dominant (G)? And not, let’s say the sub-dominant (F) or the
median (E)? Beethoven probably would not have wanted to develop material largely
based on the tonic, otherwise the result would have been similar to a Haydn or
Mozart symphony. He wanted something more original, perhaps even to change the
whole conception of a symphony strictly adhering to its designated key, but yet
within the bounds of consonance. Thus the dominant proves to be the best choice
– this symphony as a whole is dominated by the dominant. Whereas this symphony
ends in the key of C, it was enough for others to further twist the convention
to suit their own agendas, like Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 in E minor which
ends in E major instead. The dominant of any scale creates a certain amount of tension
in the music of that scale, a tension which was perhaps not (yet) tolerated in
Beethoven’s time but is, now, given the harsher dissonances that have been
introduced (and even brought to convention!) by modern composers.
However
Beethoven did adhere to convention in the area of instrumentation (with a slight
exception that shall be explained in a moment). The strings are the leading
forces of melodic and rhythmic content of this whole section, whereas the winds
punctuate the music at strategic points i.e. generally at the end of phrases,
and also to strengthen the presence of the dominant, particularly in bars 48 to
50. The exception here lies in the usage of the timpani, not like a
“bass-drum” in a military band to provide or sustain a downbeat, but to add
a percussive colour to the movement. Indeed at the tempo in which the menuetto
is set in, the quaver beats become a show of virtuosity, for any timpani player
could tell you that it takes a considerable amount of effort to play bar 51 (at
least) of the menuetto and still maintain the evenness of each quaver beat.
The
trio is the second small section of the 3rd movement, which starts
off with a variant of the opening motif of the menuetto, this being played on
the oboes, clarinets, bassoons and French horns, with end-of-phrase flowing
gestures of agreement from the violins. Beethoven’s genius in harmonic scoring
is reflected here - the main rhythmic pattern (consisting of a minim tied to a
crotchet) is essentially the same throughout the whole movement, but he makes
use of chords and dynamics to create different moods. The series of static
chords beginning the trio sets a peaceful and calm mood in contrast to the
festive atmosphere a few bars earlier (in the Menuetto section). This same
series of chords is used to bring back the mood of the movement to where it
started – bars 122 to 126, through accumulation of sound from subsequent
entries of different instruments. This section, just like the menuetto, is
dominated by any other tonality other than C (though related to C).
In
the respect of instrumentation, there seems to be a reversal of roles. The
woodwinds are now leading the pack, with the strings providing the appropriate
support (the flowing gestures of agreement as described earlier). The wind choir
that starts off the trio section, however, does not include the flutes.
Beethoven must have had a reason for not doing so. The reason was perhaps due to
the nature of the flute during his time having bad intonation, especially in the
third high register. Elaborating further, Beethoven could have still added the
flutes to the choir, which would have made more instrumental sense. To have done
that he would have them either play in the same pitch as the oboes or an octave
above. In the earlier case, the flutes would have been a redundant addition,
their voices being masked by the powerful double reeds. The latter case would
have exposed the flutes’ bad intonation problems. It is probably these reasons
why Beethoven excluded the use of the flute in this instance.
End of Analysis
With reference to specific works or composers, discuss the impact of technology on instrumental music in nineteenth century repertoire.
Technology
is the result of human phenomena: the result of the continual quest of the human
race to constantly look for ways to improve themselves and their surroundings,
thus paving the way for more new technologies. While often described as
something of a more recent happening (no? thanks to technology in mass media)
technology has evolved wherever and whenever human civilisation existed. The technology that our musical
counterparts in the nineteenth century had and would have achieved in would had
very much depended on previous technologies from the Classical and Baroque eras,
in numerous areas such as instrument design, instrument development and
production, economic progress, to name but a few. Bearing this in mind, this
essay will be a discussion on how these evolving technologies had caused an
impact on the music and how the music was played in the nineteenth century.
The
Boehm flute and 19th century flute repertoire
The
Boehm system of flute (and fingerings) of 1847, conceptualised by Theobald Boehm
who was a flautist and a goldsmith who lived in Munich, Germany
in the 19th century, is still currently in use today. The
design of the Boehm flute has not been significantly altered since. Thus we
could say that the 19th century witnessed the birth of a
technological innovation that was to revolutionalize instrumental music. While
one would expect such a revolution to take the form of an increased quantity of
flute repertoire, that did not happen. It is ironical that a technological
advance resulted in what has been described as “a low point in the history of
flute music”.
The
design of the Boehm flute was formulated on the principles of improving the tone
and intonation of previous flutes in use, the most popular ones being the
one-keyed flute common to baroque flautists of today. However when Boehm
perfected his design in 1847, many other flautists of his day refused to adapt
to the new flute, the main reason being having to adopt a new set of fingerings.
This
outward rejection led other flautists / flute makers to devise their own
solutions; some devised their designs so as to preserve the old system of
flute-playing as far as possible, while others came out with totally new makes.
Competition was fierce, as a contemporary observer remarked sarcastically about
“the Noble Army of Patentees”. Amidst all this confusion, it became
difficult for composers to write for the flute in general, which left the job of
composing to the flautists themselves. These flautists whose livelihood in the
19th century, depended much on the middle class audience (advancing
technologies meant rising economic and social status of the middle class), and
this had an effect on the music that these virtuosi had to showcase. This took
the form of bravura variations and operatic fantasies, for example, Guilio
Briccialdi’s (1818-1881) Carnival of Venice and Jules Auguste Demersseman’s
(1833-1866) Fantasy for 2 flutes (or flute and oboe) on themes from Rossini’s
William Tell (composed with Felix Charles Berthelemy).
Operas
like William Tell were then popular, and lacking the technology of “radio”
and “recordings”, the common average middle class man turned to
“versions” of these operas for home entertainment. Operas were transcribed
not only for pianos, but also, for two flutes (e.g. Mozart’s Zauberflote
flute duets, arranger unknown), and this could only be possible with the advent
of the publishing industry, which increased the availability of sheet music (as
compared to hand-written manuscripts) to a wider audience.
For
the virtuoso flautist however, they had Briccialdi to thank for introducing a
slight modification to the Boehm flute of 1847 without which, playing the
Carnival of Venice (which is a set of variations) would have been almost
impossible, if not, very tedious. This little modification involved adding a key
to the thumbplate, which allowed both Bb and B to be fingered by the left thumb
alone, as opposed to Boehm’s system where the fingering for Bb involved the
first finger of the right hand as well. That meant that running up and down
scales containing Bb (especially the F major scale) became less of a chore, this
certainly relieved composers of flute repertoire of a technical problem.
Sometimes the B-Bb key we have on our flutes now is referred to as the
“Briccialdi key”.
Although
the quality of music composed for flute to be performed in concert halls and
recitals diminished, the 19th century saw a great output of flute
pedagogical techniques and methods, most of them on the Boehm system. Today,
flautists all over the world are familiar with etudes, exercises, and studies by
Karl Joachim Andersen (1847-1909), Caspar Kummer (1795-1870), Joseph-Henri Altes
(1826-1895). Here we see the effect of Boehm’s technological advance on the
design of the flute – that resulted in new schools of flute pedagogy, divided
at first between the French and the British. The Boehm system gradually replaced
the older systems of flute in music conservatories, and was also introduced into
the orchestra. Despite the growing popularity of Boehm’s system, some still
refused to change. Louis Drouet (1792 – 1873) is also known for his etudes and
exercises, but in 1827 he wrote a method for the 8-keyed flute which is now
considered to be an important document for the flautists of today specialising
in early 19th century performance practice.
Prior
to the nineteenth century, major violinmakers worked alone, or had a small group
of apprentices working under them. The method of working was progressive – the
violin was made from one stage to the next, although the maker could spread this
job around a few violins at the same time. The clear disadvantage of this method
of working was that the violins would take weeks or even months to complete
depending on how fast the work was being done. However, this method of working
allowed customisation of the violin to the buyer’s needs, and also created
more opportunities for the maker to exhibit his creativity on the instruments.
The
nineteenth century, however, saw the emergence of violin-making “factories”.
German towns such as Mittenwald and Markneukirchen
became centres of “mass” production of violins, with different workers
specialising in making different parts of the violins – scrolls, fronts,
backs, assembly and varnishing. This cottage-industry method meant cheaper
instruments made affordable to students, or the interested amateur violinist, at
the expense of tonal and aesthetic quality. With greater availability of the
instrument, coupled with the expanding publishing industry, the growth of
various music conservatories, and the introduction of a more systematic approach
to musical education, nineteenth century violin repertoire saw the addition of
more etudes and other pedagogical material ranging from elementary to advanced
level. Unlike the flute whereby there were conflicts between different systems
of flutes, the main conflict left to be resolved among schools of violin
teaching harboured around the conservative - Louis Spohr’s (1784-1859) Violinschule
published in 1831, to the virtuosic - Niccolo Paganini’s (1782-1840) ever
famous 24 Caprices Op.1, published 1818.
Although
the Caprices of Paganini exhibited the elements of Paganini’s style of
performance and composition as a unified combination of musical, melodic,
harmonic, expressive, formal and technical considerations, these qualities made
it suitable for pedagogy at advanced level. The nineteenth century saw the
flourishing of such “concert etudes”, which were both pedagogical in nature
as well as exploited in concert repertory. Some other important examples of
“concert etude” literature include Pierre Rode’s (1774-1830) own 24
Caprices and Andreas Romberg’s Etudes ou trois sonates.
We
have seen earlier that the acceptance of the Boehm flute was not immediate, in
the case of Adolphe Sax (1814-1894) and his Le
Saxophon, it was met with fierce opposition from his enemies. The first
“saxophone” to be made was actually what we know today as the baritone
saxophone, which was actually derived from Sax’s new bass clarinet, another
instrument of his own making which was far superior to the ancient bass clarinet
in use at that time. This, naturally, was the result of his constant research
for better-sounding instruments which could play and function well. It is not
known if he had received any formal training in acoustical principles (unlike
Boehm, who studied acoustics with Dr Carl Schafhautl at the University of
Munich), so the baritone saxophone might have been the result of many trials and
errors.
Instrumental
in helping Sax overcome his battles with his enemies and supporting his career
was none other than Hector Berlioz (1803-1869). On 3rd February 1844 in a
concert of his own works, Berlioz conducted the first performance of his
Overture to “Carnaval Romain” and a transcription
for the instruments of Sax (of which only one was a true saxophone and played by
Sax himself), an unidentified vocal hymn for six different voices. Sadly, this
transcription was never published, presumably burnt by Berlioz himself like many
of his earlier works, much of it for small ensembles. This concert was a
material success, and a moral victory for Sax, as it was favourably reviewed by
critics. Subsequently that December, musicologist and philosopher Georges Kasner
(1802-1872) made the first recorded use of the saxophone in orchestral
literature in his opera “The Last King of Juda”, in which he included a part
for “the first saxophone constructed that belonged to the bass compass”
i.e. baritone saxophone.
Sax,
in 1845 was also instrumental in realising a re-composition of military bands
(of France, at that time), which even had marching bassoons. His argument was
that instruments, like the bassoon, were redundant in terms of sound prodcution,
having been drowned out by the two extremes of the high pitched piccolos and
clarinets, and the low and blaring ophicleides. The
proposal of a new concept of the military band which was to make large use of
his own bugles with valves, or saxhorns (the older name for saxophones,
‘saxhorn’ still being in use in Germany and some other European countries
today), thereby securing regular orders for instruments at his work-shop.
Naturally, he was met with a lot of opposition, which culminated in a “musical
battle” between his marching band and that of a rival, Carafa, a French
composer, who came up with his own re-organisation which did not really change
the existing one. Nevertheless it was yet another victory for Sax and his
instruments, as he had demonstrated the advantage of employing a group of
instruments of the same family.
Although
adoption of the saxophone was slow, it was sure, as sometime after 1844,
Gioacchino Rossini (1792-1868) had the Paris Conservatoire adopt the Sax
instruments. But still, many composers towards the later half of the nineteenth
century did not write for the saxophone in orchestral literature, most probably
due to their unfamiliarity (and perhaps their reluctance) to the saxophone. The
use of the orchestral saxophone was only realised at the turn of the century
exemplied by works such as Ravel’s orchestration of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures
at an Exhibition” (1923) to Giacomo Puccini’s well-known opera
“Turandot” (1926). Today, the saxophone is more synonymous with the jazz
idiom.
Evolving
technologies continue to amaze mankind, sometimes achieving what was deemed
impossible. Music continues to be a front where these advances in technologies
could be achieved, and the future it has for music and the music industry is
limitless. Computers for one, has already significantly altered some forms of
music, as we know it to be. This technological advance will continue to help us
in our efforts to further improve or perhaps revolutionise the music that we
play, how we play the music or even, how well we play the music.
It
is simply amazing to discover, for the Western (Boehm system) flautist, the
limitless possibilities that can be offered by flutes from other cultures, in
terms of repertoire, style, interpretation and technique, to name a few
categories. In this essay I shall investigate some of these aspects of
performance on the Chinese flute, the di
zi, in terms of concepts I have already learnt from the study of the Western
flute.
Short
history of the di zi
No
one can be really sure of when the first di
zi was made, but archeological findings lead to conclusions that they were
in existence as far back as seven thousand years ago. These di zi were probably be very primitive, made of bone, and perhaps
served as aids in food hunting (either to scare away animals or to attract them,
depending on how it was played). It was only later that music was to be a form
of “man’s expression in the state of heightened emotion”, and the di
zi was used as a music instrument.
Below
is an account retold in T.C Lai’s and Robert Mok’s Jade Flute, on the invention of the Chinese music system:
The
invention of the Chinese music system was credited to Huang Ti, a
legendary
figure said to have lived in the third millenium B.C. The story
goes
that Huang Ti ordered his court entertainer Ling Lun to “create
music”,
whereupon Ling Lun “travelled westwards from the Ta Hsia to
the
north side of the K’un Lun range and gathered bamboos from the
valleys.
He selected hollow tubes of uniform bore and cut a length of
three
chun* and nine fen*
between the two joints to make a pitch pipe
for
the tone of Yellow Bell. Then he cut twelve other tubes and fixed
their
pitches according to the singing of the Feng
Huang birds.”
*chun – 1/3 decimetre
**fen
– 1/3 centimetre
The
design and structure of the modern di zi could not have changed much since those times, as it is still
made out of bamboo and has eight holes, one for blowing the air into, another to
place the vibrating membrane-strip on, while the remaining six holes are to be
covered with the fingers in different combinations such as to produce various
changes in pitch. The modern Western metal flute has a more complex design, to
compare with, and has developed from a system similar to that of the di
zi (six-holed Renaissance, Baroque flutes) to the present Boehm system that
we use now in the span of 150 years or so. Di
zi come in various lengths, the longer it is the more deeper in pitch the
sound will be. Thus a di zi player
would need several of these to use in a Chinese orchestra, unlike just only one
Boehm flute for the Western flautist. A set of di
zi is shown below:
Producing
the sound:
The
di zi being a transverse (held
sideways) flute, the sound is produced in a very similar way to the Western
flute, given that both have similarly-shaped blow holes. It is done by placing
the lower lip just below the lower edge of the blow hole and directing a small
stream of air into the blow hole. This mouth position or “embouchure” as it
is called, is similar to that when you obtain during whistling.
Producing
the notes:
There
are no keys on the di zi. Notes are
produced by covering the six holes, indirectly similar, but more basic to the
Western style in which there are ‘keys’ that have to be pressed in order to
cover the tone holes. Thus a Western flute player will encounter minimal
problems upon trying to play a di zi, up to this stage.
On
trills and other decorative aspects of Chinese music:
There
is a certain degree of improvisation required on the part of the di
zi player when he performs his music. Thus what he reads is actually a piece
of music in its ‘skeletal’ form i.e. the melody. The ‘trills’ and other
decorative aspects of playing is entirely improvised.
There
are many ways in which the di zi player can incorporate these decorative aspects into a piece.
These include:
1)
A mordent usually from the note above the melody note
2)
trills anywhere between the melody note and a note one or two
positions
away from it (usually higher)
3)
single, double, multiple tonguing
4)
flutter tongue / throat flutter techniques
5)
very effective glissandos
6)
the “end-note” decoration
(It
is hereby noted that I have made use of Western realisations / concepts in
describing these decorative phenomena, except in (6).)
(1)
to (4) are found just as much in Western music, although they are usually
written down (in the appropriate notation) in the music where intended.
(5)
is highly possible due to the nature of the exposed tone holes, in which the
fingers could be released one after another in a manner as to produce a
glissando. Very often di zi players
combine this glissando effect with (4) to produce a thrilling ‘flutterred
glissando’.
(6)
is achieved, usually at the end of a phrase, by the performer either removing
his fingers and cutting his breath at the same time, or for certain notes, add
fingers and cutting his breath at the same time. It would seem to the Western
flautist that this “jolt” at the end signals the end of a phrase.
Vibrato
and breathing:
Vibrato
is usually employed, just like in Western music, to demonstrate degrees of
expressiveness in the playing, especially during long notes. This, in Chinese
terms, makes the music less straight. In line with this, the technique of circular
breathing is often used if the player has the ability. This technique involves
simultaneous breathing in of air and expulsion of air from the mouth into the
flute, and it is a requirement that di zi
students in Chinese music conservatories have to fulfil by the end of their
second year of study.
On
tempo:
An
aspect of Chinese music worthy of note is the ‘ban’
principle, a traditional means of altering metre and melodic density. Chinese
musicians recognise a series of metrical structures, or ban,
similar in certain respects to
Western time signatures. Certain melodies can be performed in different ban, the more expansive the metre the denser the ornamentation and
the slower the tempo. Sometimes musicians perform a ‘suite’ of these,
beginning with the slowest, most elaborate version of a theme and ending with
the fastest, most compressed version. This procedure is illustrated on the next
page with three versions of “Lady Meng Jiang”, in Western notation with
tempo markings. Observe that the decorative aspects have been “translated”
into Western realisations e.g. the mordent and the trill.
Styles
of playing the di zi vary within
different parts of China just as the style of Western flute playing varies
geographically. Whereas Western schools of flute playing centre around the
French and the British styles, you don’t have to
travel much within China (i.e. between provinces only) to observe a
different style of playing the di zi.
The two major styles are that of the popular Jiangnan (South of the Yangzi)
regional style and that of the Northern, classical style of playing. Fingered
ornaments are essential to Jiangnan, therefore providing articulation, and no
tonguing technique is little, if used, at all, and pieces in the Jiangnan style
therefore begin with the breath alone. This is contrasted with the Northern
style in which single, double- and flutter-tonguing techniques are employed.
Interpretation
of the same piece could sound vastly different in different parts of China –
this is not synonymous with Western music in which the printed score will sound
the same if played by another flautist from another school of flute playing.
Some of the reasons for this difference in interpretation could be due to: (1)
differences in each player’s improvisational abilities, (2) much of the music
being in oral tradition, differences (not necessarily discrepancies!) resulting
in learning the piece from a master, (3) changing the piece to suit the style of
di zi playing. In
Western terms, each of these pieces, since they are derived from each other,
could be ‘variations’.
Here
is a list of Chinese solos for flute:
(1)
Perpetual Spring
(2)
Xiao (which is the name of a vertical Chinese flute)
(3)
Sun Wu Tends Sheep
(4)
Playing the Qin
(5)
Happy Meeting
(6)
Flying Patridge
Not
your regular list of titles of music as you know it, aren’t they?
Much
of Chinese music involves nature and its surroundings, or of simple things like
a leaf blowing in the wind. It attempts to capture the spirit in an activity,
such as the Happy Meeting, or the gentle Playing of the Qin, or in the case of
the Xiao, the slow haunting melodies that that instrument is capable of
reproducing. “Sonatas” and “Etudes” for di
zi have been developed, but as a result of influence from the West.
Role
of di zi in an orchestra
The
di zi has this penetrating quality
that allows its sound to project through the orchestra of mostly stringed
instruments, very much like the piccolo of a modern symphony orchestra. In fact,
the smaller di zi is comparable to the
piccolo itself, being small in size and reproducing an equal amount, if not
more, of the shrillness associated with piccolo playing. Thus the di
zi is given a leading role in the orchestra, with abundant solo passages,
usually demonstrating the virtuosity of the player. Usually there are only two
or three di zi players in an
orchestra, comparable to three or four flautists in a Western orchestra.
With increased scholarly interaction between the East and the West in recent times, a fusion culture has emerged in which people mix the East and the West together, or take certain elements from each to produce an intended result. Such endevours include composing Chinese music to be played in Western orchestras (i.e. Yellow River Piano Concerto, for Western piano and orchestra) and conversely, arranging well-known Western masterpieces for Chinese orchestras. Much has been done by Westerners in efforts to understand Chinese music and its complexities – this can only be seen in various research reports and the organisation of Chinese music circles, performance or academic based, especially in countries like the United States of America. It is therefore hoped that the Western flautist could tap on the vast resources found in Chinese music in an effort to get to know Chinese culture better, as well as, in performance terms, the di zi instrument, as well as his own instrument.
THE END
THE EFFECTS OF GLOBALISATION ON
MUSICAL COMPOSITION AND MUSIC EDUCATION
“All
music is folk music. I ain’t never heard no horse sing a song.”
Louis
Armstrong
It is interesting to hear the abovementioned quote coming from one of the best jazz musicians the world has ever known. This comment was made despite the many genres of music the world that has come into existence up to now. It is true that music is a universal language, although its modes and practices will vary differently from one locality to another. This “diversity in unity”, however, could only be achieved through the external forces of globalisation, however remotely its effects felt on music makers have been. I will discuss these effects on the areas of music composition and music education, the latter of which I will consider the future it has in the dimension of music education in Singapore.
The
Concept of Globalisation
Globalisation has been described as the increased interconnectivity among people and among places as a result of increasing transnational flows of capital and goods, information and people. Several dimensions in which globalisation will have effects on include economic, social, political and cultural. Although this concept has been only recently articulated and studied, globalisation is a phenomenon that has been happening ever since man learnt to communicate with each other.
Influence of musical forms on compositional strategies
Composers of Western art music (or more appropriately referred to as “concert hall music”) draw their inspirations from a variety of sources. These sources come in a variety of forms i.e. other composers’ music, music from other idioms e.g. jazz, folk, etc.
A closer examination of this phenomenon will reveal some real aspects. For a composer of any locality or period of time to have been exposed to as many of these influences, there has to be something that has enabled this to take place. A universal method of notating Western art music was already in place by the time of the composer Mozart (late 18th to 19th century). This meant that any trained professional musicians could perform Mozart’s compositions (subject to their own interpretations, of course) in a variety of settings and locations. The early compositions of Ludwig van Beethoven displayed Mozartian “tendencies”, before he went on later in his life to develop his individual style of composition, often referred to as “Romanticism”. Moving down the timeline we have the Austrian composer Gustav Mahler who based some of his compositions on models used by Beethoven, and even further down the timeline, the Russian Dmitri Shostakovich based some of his models on that of Mahler. The list goes on. If we were to trace out the links between each and every composer in terms of direct influence, the result obtained would be akin to drawing a complex web.
This evolvement of music to newer forms can only be the result of the forces of globalisation. The common ground between any trained musician (in the German tradition of Mozart and the like) will be the system of musical notation he sees on his score once he gets round to performing it. Advances in transportation (no matter how “primitive” they may have been in the 19th century compared to now) allowed composers to showcase their music to wider audiences across towns, countries and even continents, thus gaining their support (or in many cases, their wrath) for their creative pursuits. This coupled with developments in publishing enabled music to be widely distributed, thus expanding its sphere of influence. Perhaps a more interesting case in point would be that of early 20th century French composer Francis Poulenc, who in his 1932 Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra, ended the first movement with a melody he had heard earlier in 1931 at the Paris Colonial Exhibition – he had heard a Javanese gamelan orchestra play. In that same concerto, the 2nd movement had references to Mozart and the third, interestingly enough, jazz. In this single composition alone, we see that globalisation has done its work.
This phenomenon is magnified at the present day, and especially even more so as music of all kinds reaches a very wide audience over the Internet. A good example of this phenomenon in existence today is what I describe as the “mp3 movement”. The “mp3” is a format in which a sound file can exist as and be transported across computers, and it is through this format that budding composers can perform, record and showcase their own compositions in genres as diverse as classical and punk rock over the internet.
Effects
of politics and social culture as a result of globalisation on compositional
strategies
What better way to begin this section than to list a few notable examples of works composed with some form of national agenda in mind:
1) Jean Sibelius’ “Finlandia” – composed by Finland’s national composer in 1899, when Finland was still under the Russian empire. The work became so identified with Finnish national aspirations so much so that it was banned in 1917.
2) Antonin Dvorak’s “Slavonic Dances” – Dvorak being regarded by many as Czechoslovakia’s national composer
3) Leong Yoon Pin’s “Overture ‘Dayong Sampan’ ” – while this local Singaporean composition might not have been composed with a “national agenda” in mind, it certainly has highlighted an aspect of the culture in existence in Singapore, in essence, made it “Singaporean”.
Why the sense of national identity?
With globalisation, that meant territories were made less borderless by allowing tourism and employment in foreign countries to exist. With this inflow and outflow of people among places, certainly a democratic nation would seek its own “national identity”, perhaps as some form of security for themselves. Music is thus one of many ways in which this desire for a “national identity” could be expressed. The most common compositional strategies used by 19th and 20th century composers include native folk music in their original formats or otherwise, or idioms pertaining to their homeland e.g. folk legends, events significant to their country, etc.
By selecting these strategies, these composers have also preserved and immortalised some aspects of their national heritage, against an environment of the assimilation of global culture, which embraces values and practices outside of the locality. To go back on our previous example, Leong Yoon Pin’s “Overture ‘Dayong Sampan’”, ‘Dayong Sampan’ is a Malay folk song; and the word ‘Sampan’ which means ‘boat’ in Malay lends itself to the time when the Singapore River was crowded with these little boats. Major econdomic developments in Singapore (a result of globalisation!) has rendered the use of these boats useless – thus you don’t see the ‘sampans’ around, except for the occasional motorised ones used in transporting tourists.
The
emergence of ethnomusicology as a result of globalisation
Just as the concept of globalisation was only recently articulated, so has ethnomusicology, whose very definition has still not been agreed upon yet. Ethnomusicology involves the study of all music outside Western art music (i.e. Mozart, Beethoven, music from this tradition) and essentially includes folk, ethnic music, sometimes jazz.
The emergence of this branch of musicology arose from a realisation that all kinds of music should be given equal importance. The main proponents of the ethnomusicological movement include prominent scholars like John Blacking and Jaap Kunst, the latter having coined the term “ethnomusicology” in 1950 in response to the term “comparative ethnomusicology” which was then used to describe the study of ethnic music.
Thus the scope of the academic study of music has embraced the study of ethnomusicology, and that music had to be a total study of the music in a locality. This meant the acceptance of a global culture, with it comes the awareness of the culture of other races and their musics, their practices, ways of life, and so on. Indeed, there are more scholars now in the field of ethnomusicology, and universities with music programs usually has an ethnomusicological department.
Globalisation
and the importance of ethnomusicology in music education in Singapore schools
Music education in Singapore schools is generally not placed under great importance, most probably because Music is not an examinable subject (with the exception of those involved in the Music Elective Programs in selected schools). Music is a good way of exploring other cultures, especially in the Singapore context. Globalisation has resulted in more communication among Singaporeans, and although the general consensus among Singaporeans is that we all live in harmony, misconceptions and sometimes even prejudices regarding other races still exist. For example, when one thinks of Malay music in Singapore, he would liken it to the beating of the kompang at Malay weddings, when in actual fact, Malay music includes traditional Malay music such as the zapin (a kind of dance), ghazal (Malay music usually associated with religion i.e. Islam), even to Malay pop music (influence from the West?). Here we recapitulate the purpose of ethnomusicology which is to study the total music of a locality. Thus the study of ethnomusicology helps us to enhance our knowledge of our own Singaporean culture which is a mix of cultures.
Currently, the music “syllabus” is being revamped to include the basic tenets of ethnomusicology into lessons. Ultimately, it is left to the teachers to decide what goes into their students’ lessons. However, this is still not the case for those doing the Music Elective Program (MEP), in which there is an emphasis on the study of the history and processes of only Western music. The examining body controls the syllabus for this group of students. I feel that the students will be missing a very important and real component of music education if something is not done to change this.
Conclusion
Globalisation is an effect which affects us in many ways, but in ways that we are not really able to feel. We have seen how it affects our past, and can only predict, based on current trends, how it will affect us in future. In assimilating a global culture, one has to strike a balance between preserving his own heritage and embracing parts of that global culture that works for him – this is the conflict that we have always been addressing and need to address once the forces of globalisation take place.
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References:
Grout, Donald J.; A History of Western Music
Various authors; The New Grove Dictionary of Music
Sharpe, Leslie; Lecture notes on Globalisation
L’Oiseau
de feu (The
Firebird)
II.
Variation of the Firebird
III.
The Princesses’ Round
IV.
Infernal Dance of King Kashchei
V.
Lullaby
VI.
Finale
It
was with much apprehension and even some fright that Stravinsky accepted the
commission for a new ballet score to be produced by Diaghilev for the 1910
season of the Ballets Russes at the Paris Opera. Primarily the fright was due to
the deadline he had to meet, considering that his previous large-scale
orchestral work, the Symphony No.1 in “Eb”, was written at his own pace.
While awaiting confirmation of the commission, he moved from St. Petersburg to a
dacha belonging to the Rimsky-Korsakov
family for a supposed “vacation in birch forests and snow-fresh air”.
However, he began work on The Firebird,
which surprised Diaghilev when the latter called him up at the dacha to confirm the commission. The 45-minute ballet was finished
in draft form in five months, with its orchestration completed just a month
later.
The
story of the Firebird was adapted from Russian folklore. The following describes
the libretto:
“The
young prince Ivan finds himself in the terrible kingdom of the ogre Kashchei, an
immortal being representing pure evil, who is fond of imprisoning women and
turning men to stone. Unaware of this, Ivan encounters a beautiful Firebird
while wandering in Kashchei's enchanted garden. Struck with its beauty, he
steals a feather from it and, as he makes his escape, encounters 13 maidens, one
of whom he falls passionately in love with. In the morning, when these
imprisoned maidens are forced by Kashchei's magic spell to return to his castle,
Ivan is compelled to follow them. When he is captured by Kashchei's monstrous
servants and about to be turned into stone, he waves the magic feather to summon
the Firebird who tells him about the ogre's secret of immortality: that his
soul, in the form of an egg in a coffin, must remain unbroken. Ivan breaks open
the coffin and smashes the egg forthwith, whereupon the monster dies and the
evil spell which has been cast over his kingdom dissolves and all captives are
set free. As expected, the prince's flame, Tsarevna, and he are married.”
The
success from the ballet’s premiere at the Paris Opera on 25 June 1910 made him
a major figure in the world of music overnight.
The
original scoring of The Firebird was
indeed massive and described later by Stravinsky himself as being “wastefully
large”. It was scored for 4 flutes, 4 oboes, 4 clarinets, 4 bassoons, 4
trumpets, 3 horns, 3 trombones, 1 tuba, traingle, snare drum, cymbals, bass
drum, gong, timpani, campanelli xylophone, celesta, piano, 3 harps, strings, and
an additional ‘stage band’
comprising of 3 trumpets, 2 tenor tubas and 2 bass tubas. Much of this
orchestration was cut down significantly in his own revised versions of the work
into concert suites (1911 and 1919) and a ballet suite (1945), the latter of
which was used in George Balanchine’s 1950 production of the ballet.
Much
later, in ‘Expositions and Developments’, a set of interviews with Robert
Craft, Stravinsky commented that The
Firebird did not attract him as a subject that he could set music to.
‘Like all story ballets, it demanded descriptive music of a kind I did not want to write.’
On
the subject of choreography of the premiere performance (by Michel Fokine):
‘…I
didn’t really like the dance movement of either ballet (referring to Petroushka
as the other one). The female dancers in the Firebird
And
on conducting The Firebird:
‘I should add that The Firebird has been a mainstay in my life as a conductor. My conducting debut occurred with it (the complete ballet) in 1915 at a Red Cross benefit in Paris, and since then I have performed it nearly a thousand times, though ten thousand would not erase the memory of the terrible trac I suffered that first time. And, oh yes, to complete the picture, I was once addressed by a man in an American railway dining car, and quite seriously, as 'Mr Fireberg'.'
THE END