What Makes a Musician a Musician?

Author's Note: This post is an evolving work-in-progress.  What you are reading is not complete (nor, at the moment, properly supported), but a collection of thoughts that I will add to as inspiration strikes.  Please feel free to comment at any time, as your comments may well shape the direction of my thought and research (when, in fact, I begin researching).  Thank you.

I've often wondered where musical talent comes from.  The ability to press a certain combination of keys on a piano, finger a combination of keys on a bassoon, or press down a string at a certain spot on the neck of a violin is a mechanical skill.  Much like fixing a sink or building a chair, it is certainly not easy but it can be taught to anyone with mechanical aptitude.  Creating music, though, is a special gift altogether.  It is a gift which transcends the mere mechanical and touches our soul.  So what is it about music that makes one person able to do that, while another can't?

An understanding of the issue requires us to consider the different categories of "musician," as they are all different and all possess certain characteristics unique to their distinctive category.  There are three categories;  Creators, Recreators, and Academics.  Creators are those who actually compose music, Recreators are the ones who take existing music and recreate it for listeners, and Academics are those who study music from an academic standpoint.  This last category would include musicologists, ethnomusicologists, and theorists.  Theses categorizations are not mutually exclusive and you can find individuals who fall within more than one of these categories.  For example, very few Academics reach that goal without first being Recreators.

Yet even this phenomenon begs certain questions.  For example, you will find that most composers also play an instrument, but this is no more than an example of the horse coming before the cart.  Learning to play an instrument is the first step in any traditional process of musical education.  It is how a fledgling musician learns how music functions.  Without that training, could someone compose music?  The answer is yes.

There is no reason why the principals of composition could not be taught without the foundation of instruction on a specific instrument.  In other words, one does not need to play an instrument in order to write music for it.  Beethoven did not play every instrument in the orchestra, yet he wrote for them.  The same can be said for most composers.  While they often gravitate towards writing music for their own instruments, that is not always the case and it merely takes a quick glance at any prolific composer's body of work to find examples of music that the composer himself could not play.  The same could be said of taking an academic approach to music.

Be that as it may, the real issue of inquiry here is, to put it plainly, what makes a musician tick?  Regardless of which category (or combination of categories) a musician falls within, what is it that separates a competent musician from an exceptional musician?  Are there personality traits, characteristics, or even medical/psychological phenomena that one can associate with what most people think of as "musical genius?"

Areas of future inquiry with relation to musicians:

• Mental instability
• Propensity for drug and/or alcohol use and abuse
• OCD and other related disorders
• High IQ

Die Zauberflöte - Program Notes

Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute)
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)
Premiered 30 September, 1791 in Vienna


Die Zauberflöte, or The Magic Flute, is one of Mozart’s most well-known operas, and one of his final works, premiering just months before his death.  This two-act opera has a libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder, an interesting character in his own right.

Schikaneder was an accomplished Shakespearian actor and played the role of Papageno in the opera’s premiere.  He used the success of Die Zauberflöte to open his own theater, the Theater an der Wien, which still stands today.

Written in singspiel, a dramatic style incorporating both spoken words and sung dialogue, Die Zauberflöte tells the story of Tamino, a handsome prince, who is on a quest to rescue his love, Pamina, from the evil Sarastro.  He is accompanied on his quest by Papageno, a birdcatcher, with only a set of magically protective bells and a magic flute, a flute with the power to change men’s hearts.

Intended to appeal to the masses, rather than a strictly royal audience, Die Zauberflöte is very light on its surface, containing a healthy dose of silly comedy.  In some ways, Die Zauberflöte is a precursor to latter-day slapstick comedies.  While intended to be very silly on the surface, beneath that surface lies layers of hidden meaning and complexity.

The libretto incorporates many fairy tale-like and Masonic themes and is considered by most to be one of the more convoluted and confusing of operas, yet its hidden meaning is open to much interpretation.  In his writings on the opera, Stephen W. Seifert of the Colorado Opera suggests several different layers upon which the opera can be interpreted, every where from its well-known Masonic meanings to comparing it to a tarot deck or, believe it or not, George Lucas’ Star Wars trilogy.

While there are countless modern-day methods of analyzing the opera, its most famous and universally accepted connection is with freemasonry.  Both Mozart and Schikaneder were freemasons (although some freemasons view Schikaneder’s association with the brotherhood more a tool for profit than a true belief of Masonic ideals), and the opera is filled with Masonic symbolism.  Freemason Gino L. Guarnere enumerated several examples and uses of the number three in the opera, a significant number of Masonic teachings.  Among these are the opening chord of the overture, which is repeated three times, the three temples of wisdom, truth, and nature, the three doors of the temple, the three ladies who attend the Queen of the night, and the three boys who guide Tamino and Papageno.  Even the key of the opera has Masonic symbolism.  It is written in E-flat, which contains three flats.

Regardless of its hidden meanings, there is no mistaking the fact that Die Zauberflöte was one of Mozart’s most successful operas, delighting audiences for hundreds of performances.  Often described as a musical journey of self-discovery, it stands as one of Mozart’s most enduring, and most beloved, operas.  As challenging for performers as it is beautiful for audiences, Die Zauberflöte has taken its place as one of the most important of Mozart’s operatic works.

Standing Ovations - What's Your Take?

I saw the Eastman School of Music Wind Ensemble (EWE) at Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor last night.  EWE is considered by many to be the premier wind ensemble, collegiate or professional, in America.  They have been led by such musical legends as Fredeick Fennell, A. Clyde Roller, and Donald Hunsberger.  They are now led by Mark Scatterday, an impressive musician in his own right.

Anyway, the purpose of this Note is not to talk about EWE, but to talk about standing ovations.  The concert last night received a rousing ovation and audience members literally leapt to their feet the instant the last note of the last piece died away.  Well, everyone except me.

It reminded me of the days when I had season tickets to the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.  If the orchestra played a familiar piece, they always received a standing ovation, regardless of how well they played it.  If the piece was not familiar, people didn't stand up until they were ready to leave.

So why do people give standing ovations?

One obvious answer is familiarity.  If the audience hears something they know and like, they will stand for it.  This is doubly true with lay audiences because there are not as many pieces of classical music that they would recognize as an audience of, say, classical musicians.

A second possibility, and the one I tend to believe is most often the case, is comparative.  An audience of relatively seasoned concert-goers (which is probably what we had last night) develops an expectation of quality based upon what they're used to hearing.  If the performance exceeds that quality, they are more likely to give a standing ovation.

The final possibility, as I see it, is based upon expectations.  This is the standard that I generally employ.  Concert-goers sometimes enter a concert hall with an expectation of what they're going to hear.  Someone's expectation for the local junior high school's orchestra is different from their expectation when the Berlin Philharmonic comes into town, as well it should be.

And let's be honest.  If the Berlin Philharmonic played at the same quality as the junior high school orchestra, either Berlin has earned a cold crowd that remains in its seats, or the junior high school deserves a standing ovation that spans hours.

EWE gave a fantastic concert last night.  There were a few points where they lost cohesiveness and were not playing together, specifically the last two entrances of the brass in the Gabrielli and a few spots in the piano sections of the Maslanka.  There were also a few rare intonation issues.  Slight, to be sure, but still present.

If Ann Arbor Pioneer gave that performance, I would probably have been out of my seat.  This was the Eastman Wind Ensemble, though.  They are an amazing ensemble and you should expect excellence.  You can rest assured that they expect excellence of themselves.  That's why they attend Eastman.

If excellence is the standard, do they deserve a standing ovation for being excellent?  Or do they just deserve a rousing ovation for a job well done?  I'm of the belief that they do not deserve a standing ovation for simply doing what I expect of them.  I walked into Hill Auditorium expecting an excellent concert.  I got an excellent concert.  I expressed my appreciation through a healthy dose of applause, then I stood up in order to leave.

Does that make me too critical?  Are my standards too high?  Were the audience's standards too low?  Does it really matter?

Maybe, like most things in this world, there are many ways to look at the issue and none of them are wrong.  That's why I wonder what standard others have for giving a standing ovation.  Do you subscribe to one of my theories, or do you have your own?

Hildegard von Bingen: A Survey

Hildegard von Bingen:  A Survey
for Early Music (Oxford Press)

    Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1170) was an inspirational and remarkable woman who has been the subject of much scholarly inquiry and discussion in recent decades.  Her contributions to theology, medicine, philosophy, literature, and music constitute only a small portion of the wealth of contributions this pioneer of the Middle Ages has made to the western world.  While much has been made of her creative and forward-thinking ideas, it should be noted that she was one of the most influential musical figures of her time.

    That this occurred in a time when the Rule of Men ruled all, her accomplishments are all the more remarkable.  But have her contributions as a composer and musician received short-shrift to her cumulative body of work?  The purpose of this paper is to survey the works available on Hildegard in order to put into perspective the extent to which her musical contributions have been adequately chronicled and analyzed from a musical perspective and, to the extent that there is a shortage, to consider the reasons why.

Her Life

    Hildegard von Bingen was born in Bemersheim in the Alzey-Worms district of the Rhineland-Palatinate state in Germany in 1098.  She was given over to the care of Jutta at the Benadictine monastery in Disibodenberg when she was eight years-old.  Hildegard spent the next 30 years under Jutta’s care.  Hildegard was initially intended to live in seclusion, but the cell in which she was intended to live “had to accommodate a much larger number of people than first intended... (and) the recluse’s cell had become, to all intents and purposes, a small Benadictine convent, attached to and dependent on the monastery at Disibodenberg.”  (Flanagan, 3).

    Not much is known of Hildegard’s life during that time, but she was unanimously elected head of the convent upon Jutta’s death in 1136 (Flanagan, 3).  There are a few things of which we can be fairly certain.  Accounts differ as to the exact age, but Hildegard, who was a mystic and was renowned for her visions. had her first vision at a young age.  According to Flanagan’s biography, “she had her first visionary experience before she was five years old.”  (Flanagan, 2).  Other accounts mark the beginning of Hildegard’s visions “as early as the age of three - or five,” (Baird, 5) or as late as “the age of six.”  (Hozeski, xi)

    These visions present the first point of scholarly debate regarding the sanctity of this woman and potentially cast the first taint on her impressive accomplishments.  “Since the early twentieth century a growing number of scholars have ascribed Hildegard’s visions, or at least the physical aspect of them, to migraine.”  (Newman, 10)  It is also known that Hildegard was a sickly child and often fell ill later in life, often spending months at a time confined to her bed, arising only after receiving another vision.  Was Hildegard actually a mystic and prophet, or was she just a physically ill woman with tremendous insight who mistakenly connected the two?

    While questioning the veracity of Hildegard’s visions makes for interesting table talk, there is no doubt that she was a remarkable and accomplished woman in virtually every field into which she dabbled.  This truly came to pass after a revelation in her 42nd year.  She claims to have seen a vision, migraine-induced or otherwise, and in this vision she was given to understand the importance of the written word and was commanded to “say and write what you see and hear.”  (Flanagan, 4)

    It was after she gave in to this vision and began her extensive writings that she began to contribute to the world of scholarship at large, in addition to contributing to the development of the church.  Interesting that this should come when she was 42 years-old, an age at which most of her contemporaries would have already made their most significant contributions.  Hildegard, however, was just getting started.

    Upon taking up her pen in order to record her visions, thoughts, and interpretations, word passed to Pope Eugene, who was concerned about consolidating the church’s power and keeping a watchful eye on anything he considered controversial.  Hildegard, at this time, was working on her first book, entitled Scivias.  Pope Eugene obtained a copy of the work-in-progress and reviewed it himself.  After reviewing the manuscript, “he sent a letter ‘commanding’ her to continue recording her visions.”  (Newman, 11).

    After the Pope sanctioned Hildegard’s visions, she was established as a true prophet and her fame spread.  It was because of this that the convent outgrew its home at Disibodenberg.  The convent had substantial assets in the form of the dowries of the individual nuns, but those funds were under the strict control of the abbott of Disibodenberg.  Hildegard, therefore, set out to move the convent out of Disibodenberg and into “their own house, which she was called to establish on Mount St. Rupert.”  (Newman, 12).

    While the move was not easy, spurring a battle of wills with the abbott of Disibodenberg, she ultimately prevailed and succeeded in establishing a new home for her order.  It was during this time that she continued to document her visions and revelations.

    The story of Hildegard von Bingen is filled with remarkable moments, such as becoming an authority on Christian doctrine, receiving papal blessing to write theological books, preaching openly, composing music, writing poetry, and writing about sexuality and gynecology from the female perspective.  (Newman, 1).  These accomplishments would have been substantial for anyone, but especially for a woman in the Twelfth Century.

    From a musical standpoint, Hildegard wrote a fairly substantial number of pieces to accompny religious ceremonies.  She called these pieces symphniae (Hildegard von Bingen) and they were compiled in one book.  75 examples of these pieces have survived and are performed and recorded to this day.  Her most important musical contribution, though, is the liturgical drama Ordo Virtutum, which means “Order of the Virtues.”

    Ordo Virtutum is a dramatic representation of the struggle of the Human Soul between the Devil and the 16 Virtues.  There are twenty singing roles, female voices representing the Soul and the Virtues.  The Devil, by contrast, has only a speaking role.  The drama is intended to teach lessons about piety and virtuous living through a life of devotion to the Lord.  It is the first time since the Roman Catholic Church established its place of prominence in Western Society that a dramatic medium was used to tell a story, rather than strictly as part of a religious ceremony or ritual.

    While the story is one of piety, and certainly one that the church found acceptable, it was remarkably visionary for the time.  Ultimately, other liturgical dramas were composed, which led to the advent of the oratorio and opera and, in some ways, evolved into modern-day musicals.  It is difficult to believe that Wicked can ultimately trace its roots back to a piece written by a German nun in the 1100s, but there is no doubt that Hildegard was an important foundational cog in getting that ball rolling.

    After a life of great accomplishment, Hildegard died on September 17, 1179 at the age of 81.  It is said that when she died, “two rainbows crossed in the twilit sky, setting the whole of St. Rupert’s Mount aglow with celestial fireworks.”  (Newman, 28)  Her vita, or biography, had been begun by Godfrey, a monk of Disibodenberg and Hildegard’s secretary, before Hildegard’s death and was completed by Theodoric of Echternach some time after Hildegard’s death.  In general, vita’s were written to chronicle the life of significant religious figures for consideration for sainthood.  Hildegard’s vita also includes first person accounts from Hildegard herself, a rather unique feature in such works.

    Hildegard’s body of work is impressive and includes such books as Scivias, Liber Vitae Meritorum, and De Operatione Dei (chronicles of her visions), several volumes of correspondence, Symphonia (a collection of her musical works), Ordo Virtutum (her liturgical drama), Liber Vitae Meritorium (The Book of the Rewards of Life), the Ingota Lingua (Unknown Language), and Physica and Causae et Curae (both works of a medical nature).

Her Place in Scholarly Research

    The majority of writings on Hildegard have come about only in recent years as her work has enjoyed its own renaissance.  Her own writings were apparently well-maintained at her convent, which still operates to this day.  Hildegard was, first and foremost, a nun, so it is not surprising that the majority of the body of work written on her comes from a religious perspective.

    The BBC Omnibous documentary, Hildegard, tells the dual story of one of Hildegard’s conflicts with the abbott at Disobodenberg alongside the departure of one of her favorite pupils, Richardis of Stade.  Rather than telling the stories through interviews, they tell the stories through dramatization.  The conflict with the abbott was over a body which she buried on church ground and was later ordered to exhume.  She refused and the abbott banned the sisters from performing any music, singing the Mass, and receiving communion.  While this documentary primarily focuses on Hildegard’s relationship with the abbott of Disibodenberg, it does have something of a bent towards the musical Hildegard.  For example, when asked by Richardis when she found peace, Hildegard answered “When I first heard music.”  (BBC Omnibus).

    This documentary is also significant in its choice of stories to tell of Hildegard’s life.  A woman who was so accomplished likely had a wealth of stories available which could fairly paint the portrait of Hildegard’s strength of character, but the one which the producers chose to focus on was one involving music.  While the documentary really gives no sense of why Hildegard was a significant composer of the day, it clearly establishes her as a strong musical personality and makes the use of music as a vessel by which humankind may touch the Divine explicit.

    A companion documentary, A Source of Inspiration, produced by the Washington National Cathedral, provides a decidedly religious twist to the chronicling of Hildegard’s life.  This documentary does relate her story through interviews of historians and theologians who are experts in Hildegard’s life and works.  While this documentary deals more with the veracity of Hildegard’s visions, it does touch upon her music.  Roger Eisenstein of the Folger Consort explains that her “poetry, for example, is unmetered and unrhymed and has an incredibly rich amount of imagery in it.  The music matches that imagery and unmeasured quality.  It’s something that sounds amazingly modern to our ears... What Hildegard does with the pitches and the way she uses this form of centuries old, even to her centuries old, Gregorian Chant is quite amazing and quite different from anything else.”  (Washington)

    Sabina Flanagan provides one biography of Hildegard, Hildegard of Bingen: A Visionary Life.  This work certainly considers Hildegard as musician, but is written by an historian and not a musician, therefore Hildegard’s musical contributions are not considered in the proper perspective as they relate to other music of the time.  More emphasis is placed upon Hildegard’s writings in words than on her writings in music.

    Another valuable resource on Hildegard’s life is Voice of the Living Light, edited by Barbara Newman, a leading authority on Hilegard.  This book is comprised of an introductory chapter written by Newman herself providing a biography of Hildegard.  Each of the next seven chapters is written by a different author and focuses on a different aspect of Hildegard’s contributions to the world.  These chapters include writings on Hildegard as abbess, religious thinker, prophet and reformer, correspondent, artist, medical writer, composer and dramatist, and poet (the last again written by Newman).  This organization is a far more useful methodology than Flanagan’s biography because it draws upon the opinion of an expert in each field.  Margot Fassler, the author of the section on Hildegard as composer, is a professor of music at Yale University and is an expert in chant and liturgy.

    This work utilizes relevant examples of Hildegard’s music and analyzes it from both a musical perspective and a symbolic perspective as to how that music relates to its subject-matter.  This is by far the most thorough analysis of Hildegard’s complete body of musical work.

Her Music in Scholarly Literature

    On the other hand, the most thorough treatise on Hildegard’s music in general is The Ordo Virtutum of Hildegard von Bingen, a compilation of critical studies of Hildegard’s most famous work.  This work examines the Ordo Virtutum from differing points of view, such as performance practices, viewing it as a precursor to the English Moralities, examining it from a monastic standpoint, and looking at the poetic and literary structure of the work.

    It is impossible to consider any dramatic work, but most definitely a musical drama, without considering the text.  Therefore, it is not just important to consider the music of the work, but also to consider the text and how the text plays into the work as a whole.  It is interesting to note, for example, that the Devil is the only leading male character in the entire drama.  While the other parts, those of the Human Soul and the Virtues are all sung, the part of the Devil is spoken.  This suggests Hildegard’s belief that music was Divinely inspired and only belonged with those who commune with the Lord.

    While there are very few books which deal exclusively with Hildegard’s music, she is included in some compilations, albeit sparsely.  Women Composers in Germany devotes a scant three paragraphs to Hildegard, nearly mentioning her only in passing as it moves on to other women composers.  The New Historical Anthology of Music by Women contains a section of Hildegard, authored by Michael Klaper.  It also contains three musical examples along with recordings of those examples.  This is, obviously, a more through treatment of Hildegard as composer, yet only gives sparse treatment to the subject works.

    Much greater analysis of Hildegard’s music may be found in shorter journal articles and through websites.  There is a wealth of modern materials on Hildegard available to the persistent researcher.  Unfortunately, Hildegard has not yet taken her place as a serious figure in the world of music.  This begs the question of why?

A Discussion on Hildegard’s Place in Music

    It seems fairly obvious that, while Hildegard has the greatest number of surviving musical works of any composer of her time, she was certainly not the only composer of her time.  Secular music was mostly lost for two primary reasons.  The first is that there was not a standardized system of notation in effect at the time.  Notation did exist, but not as it does now, and not as it developed even shortly after Hildegard’s time.  More importantly, though, it was not only difficult to find someone literate and sufficiently educated to write music down, it was very expensive to write it down on parchment and store that parchment for posterity.

    The vast majority of surviving music from the time was sacred music because churches were the scholarly centers of society at the time.  As such, priests and nuns were largely literate and well-educated, this owing to the fact that they were required to read the Mass and other religious rites and also the fact that most members of the clergy were children of the aristocracy who had little to no chance of inheriting any property of any value.  They were, therefore, provided with a classical education and were better prepared for a life of study.

    Hildegard’s position as an abbess assured her of the resources to not only write down her observations in general, but also to make a record of her music.  As for why her music was lost for centuries before resurfacing recently, who knows?  Her writings were archived at her convent, which might explain why the source material was lost to the world at large, but her contributions were so vast and significant, it is difficult to believe that there were not adequate records maintained with the church outside of Mount St. Rupert.

    One possible explanation is the fact that Hildegard was a highly accomplished woman in a strongly male-dominated world.  Hildegard had touched enough people to provide some momentum for her ascendency to sanctity, but likely not enough to insure her place in the hearts and heads of the world throughout generations of male domination.

    Fortunately, Hildegard was greatly revered in her own order and her works were carefully tended so that future generations could study them, which is exactly what has happened in recent years.  One could consider the last half of the twentieth century the beginning of a renaissance of interest in Hildegard.  This would likely provide a two-fold explanation for the relative dearth of scholarly writing on Hildegard’s music.  First, that not many people are yet aware of her music and of her significance in the musical world.  Second, that she simply hasn’t been under the scholastic microscope for as long as most other composers.  Both of these trends should self-correct as time goes by.

    The problem with critical analysis in the discovery phase of an historical figure is that it is generally skewed.  Those who first gravitate towards studying a newly uncovered historical figure tend to be the ones who identify most strongly with that figure.  As such, they will typically have a more positive opinion of that figure than later scholars might.  Those initial writings tend to color the lenses of those who pick them up and look through them later.  It is only after the novelty of studying a new personage has worn off that we begin to see a balance in the analysis of that person and we truly learn who they were.

    We are very much in the infancy stage of discovery about Hildegard von Bingen.  The world of academia has only been actively aware of her for the past fifty years, so we are still in the process of wrapping our heads around who this remarkable woman was. 

Conclusion

    Because we are still in the relative infancy stage of learning about Hildegard von Bingen, the resources available are sparse and not yet well-developed.  Whereas composers such as Wagner and Bach have hundreds, even thousands, of books written about their music, Hildegard has two.  While the breadth of her body of work is not nearly as extensive as that of Wagner or Bach, it is no less important when considered in the proper context.

    There are countless questions surrounding the life and mysticism of Hildegard von Bingen.  Was she truly a prophet or did she just suffer from migraines?  Was she touched by the Divine, or was she just an egomaniac?  Were her health problems signs from a Greater Power or was she just a sickly woman?  Was she nothing more than an opportunist, or was she genuine about her faith?  Perhaps the true woman llies somewhere in between.

    Regardless of what one thinks of Hildegard from a religious standpoint, there is no mistaking the significance of her contributions to a wide variety of fields.  Certainly, her contributions to the world of music compare more than favorably with any of her contemporaries.  As Eisenstein pointed out, her music is pleasing to a modern ear and very progressive for its time.  She was not trained in the musical arts, yet she somehow managed to write era-appropriate music that is so sophisticated and beautiful that it has survived nearly 900 years, and even flourishes today.

    It is important that Hildegard be studied more extensively to begin to unlock the many mysteries that surround this enigmatic figure.  It is only through greater examination that we can put her music in its proper place among the great composers of the past and present.  It is only through a more profound understanding that we can appreciate her effect on composers who came after her.  It is only through further critical discussion and analysis that we can open a meaningful dialogue on the veracity of her claims as a mystic, a prophet, a poet, a composer, and a humanist.

    Hildegard’s life, to a great extent, is shrouded in mystery.  She appeared as if out of nowhere, stormed onto the scene, changed the church forever, then departed this world.  How is it possible to truly appreciate that impact with the meager work available out there to draw upon?  The simple answer is that it is not.

    It is not difficult to imagine a time when Hildegard’s work will truly be appreciated on par with men of the Middle Ages, and that time may not be far in the future.  Who can tell whether there are additional church records on Hildegard, or whether records of her music and writing exist elsewhere?  Regardless, though, the wealth of information Hildegard herself left behind in the form of her writings give us plenty of fodder to study this gifted musician and remarkable human being.

    Food for though, if you will.



***  The bibliography for this piece can be found in a separate blog entry at http://jfkmusichistory.blogspot.com/2009/12/bibliography.html ***

Personal Reflections

There are times when I feel like I am headed in the right direction.  I feel that I have more than enough talent to follow my dreams and to justify this incredible risk I have taken.  There are other times when I feel like I am in way over my head.  Perhaps it is my own insecurity, built up over the past few years.  Perhaps it is my lack of meaningfully comparative feedback.  I have no idea where I stand in relation to my peers at EMU or my peers in the world of music at large.

When I began my musical studies, I remember my fellow students talking about Sean Peterson as a veritable theory genius.  I thought that was very cool because it is what I aspired to, and what I felt I could achieve.  Now, I hear people speak of me as a theory whiz, somewhat in the same vein as they did Sean, but it doesn't comfort me at all.  I can regurgitate what I have been taught with ease, but I can't extrapolate.  Is learning really the ability to regurgitate information, or is it the internalization of that information and the ability to turn it into something new?

I think it's the latter, and that is a destination I've not yet arrived at.  Hell, I don't even know where to go to buy a ticket!  I've been to the top conservatories.  I've seen what they teach.  I've seen the people learning it.  I may have the potential for that, but it is still, as of yet, unrealized.

Am I doing the right thing?  Should I give it all up and just reach for the money and financial security that I know awaits me if I follow a different path?  I desperately crave validation and encouragement from meaningful sources.  I appreciate friends who tell me I can do it, but I get none of that from people who have been out there and have a more meaningful frame of reference.

Should I turn away from my current path, or should I follow my dream with blind faith that I'm doing the right thing?

Maybe the answer is to be found in the question itself...

Why Try Something New?

During class we learned that composers of the ars nova began increasing the complexity of the music they composed, both melodically and rhythmically.  This prompted the challenge of why a composer would try to write more intricate music?

Some of the responses espoused in class were experimentation, challenge for performers, and more interest for the listener.  Whether she realized it or not, I think one of the students came up with the most profound reason of all.

Because they could.

While it may not have been so apparent at the time, we can now look back over the development of music from the earliest extant examples of monophonic chant to post-modern music, with all of the varying categorizations within those genres and see the increasing complexity of the music.

You do not generally see quantum leaps in development in any discipline, music or otherwise.  You see people taking the next step.  When you string together enough steps, you've made quite a journey.  This applies to music.

Composers made music more intricate during the ars nova because it was new and they were experimenting with convention.  They tried different things to see whether they liked them or not.  I would guess that composers tried some new things that simply didn't take, but those are the "steps" that didn't survive because they didn't work.

The experiments that worked, however, were the steps that ultimately led to the next period in music.  The really interesting thing, though, is the knowledge that time does not end with us.  As such, music students in a thousand years may well be looking at the music composed today with the same impression of simplicity that we look at monophonic chant today.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Wagner’s Siegfried-Idyll: The Calm Amidst the Storm

     The sound of two violins drift through the open bedroom door as Cosima slowly opens her eyes.  She sees her bedroom aglow from the muted sunlight slipping through the curtains, illuminating dust motes in a graceful dance as they float through the air.  The violins are joined by a cello and viola, then two more violins, weaving a simple, yet intricate, fabric of sound that borders on the ethereal.  As a lone flute joins the fabric of the music, Cosima realizes what is happening.  Her beloved husband, Richard, has written a song to surprise her on her birthday.  Her eyes well up with tears of joy and she lays her head on the pillow and lets the ethereal sound wash over her body, not wanting to stand up and ruin this perfect moment.

    Such is the way Cosima Wagner awoke on Christmas morning, 1870.  Richard Wagner had composed the Siegfried Idyll as a birthday present for her, a piece which stands as one of Wagner’s only pieces composed solely for orchestra, and staged its premiere performance on the steps of Triebschen, the Wagners’ home on Lake Lucerne.  It is also a piece that, underneath it’s beauty and simplicity, contains complex stories of intrigue, scandal, politics, and love.

The Composer

    Richard Wagner was surrounded in mystery and intrigue from the day he was born.  He was born “in a room on the second floor of the ‘Red and White Lion’” (citation omitted) on May 22, 1813 in Leipzig, Germany, putatively to Karl Friedrich and Johanna Wagner.  But even his parentage is in doubt as it is widely believed that his biological father was the actor Ludwig Geyer.  In fact, when Karl Friedrich died less than six months after Richard’s birth, Geyer married Johanna and adopted the infant Richard, raising him as his own.

    Geyer, naturally, instilled a love of culture in his household and young Richard became intensely interested in literature, not music.  It was not until attending a concert of Weber’s Der Freischutz that Wagner first became interested in music.  (citation omitted)  After hearing performances of Beethoven’s symphonies and, most notably, Fidelio, Richard became obsessed with music.  (citation omitted)  Richard himself remarked that Fidelio “exercised a great fascination over me... the introduction to which affected me deeply.”  (citation omitted)

   After that performance, Richard took to studying music independently, while sporadically studying with various teachers to varying success.  The vast majority of Wagner’s musical education, however, came from his own initiative and personal studies.  In many ways, Wagner was an impatient man who tired of the rigid, formal structure of musical education.  Nonetheless, whether because of his own talent and ability, his connections through Geyer, or his dogmatic perseverance and sheer force of will, he was ultimately able to secure a post at the Wurzburger Theater.

    Richard was later offered the post of conductor at the Magdeburg Theatre Company in Lauchstadt in 1834.  While the Opera itself was poorly managed and Richard nearly resigned his post to return to Leipzig, he changed his mind when he met Minna Planer.  He described the meeting by noting that “her appearance and bearing formed the most striking contrast possible to all the unpleasant impressions of the theatre which it had ben my lot to receive on this fateful morning.”  (citation omitted)  They were married two years later in 1836.

    In the ensuing years, Richard enjoyed increasing success as a composer while making the acquaintance of several prominent figures, including royalty and many great musicians, such as Franz Liszt.  His renown became so great that he was able to foster the careers of several other up-and-coming musicians.  One such man was Hans von Bulow, husband of Lizst’s daughter, Cosima.  Richard vouched for him and helped him obtain his first post as a conductor.  The two became close friends, Bulow and his wife often spending summers at Richard’s home.

    By this time, Richard and Minna were separated, Minna living in an apartment which Richard had paid for.  Richard was quite taken with Cosima and they began a passionate love affair which would become the source of gossip and intrigue for years to come.  Bulow and Cosima would visit Triebschen, Wagner’s home on the shores of Lake Lucerne in Switzerland, where they would stay for months at a time.  During these stays, Cosima would stay with Richard, leaving Bulow as the odd-man-out.  Wagner fathered three children with Cosima.  Two girls, Isolde and Eva, whom Bulow accepted as his own, and one boy, Siegfried.

    Richard convinced Bulow to grant Cosima divorce in 1870 and the two were wed a few months later when Richard was 57 years-old and Cosima 32 years-old.  Both Bulow and Liszt were appalled at the marriage, but both continued to publicly support Richard and his music.  Richard’s detractors, however, looked upon the affair, scandal, and subsequent marriage to criticize Richard.  Despite Richard’s philandering ways earlier in life, he remained faithful and devoted to Cosima for the rest of his life.  It seems that he had finally found the partner he was searching for.

December 25, 1870

    After his marriage to Cosima, Richard began work on the Siegfried Idyll.  The piece was originally titled the Triebschen Idyll with Fidi’s Birdsong and the Orange Sunrise.  (citation omitted)  Wagner was working on the opera Siegfried at the time, but even though certain motives from the Idyll appear in the opera, the two works are not related.  Richard composed the piece as a birthday present for his new wife and it was intended as a programatic piece depicting Cosima singing a lullaby to the baby Siegfried and imagining the man who might grow from the child.

    After he completed the work, he engaged fifteen musicians for its premiere.  Based upon the instrumentation of the full orchestral version, it is most likely that the ensemble consisted of two first violins, two second violins, and one each of viola, cello, double bass, flute, oboe, bassoon, and trumpet, with two horns and two clarinets rounding out the small ensemble.  Richard wanted the piece to be a surprise, so the ensemble rehearsed in secret at Triebschen.

    There is some disagreement about the date of the actual premiere.  Some sources pinpoint the date as December 24, 1870.  (citation omitted)  Most mark the Idyll’s premiere as December 25, 1870.  (citation omitted)  Others are somewhat more ambiguous, such as The Milton Cross New Encyclopedia of The Great Composers and Their Music,  (citation omitted) which notes that the piece was performed as a birthday gift to Cosima (her birthday being December 24), yet noting the date as December 25, 1870.  Regardless of the exact date of the premiere, one thing can be certain.  Cosima knew nothing of it.

    On the fateful morning, Richard organized the musicians on the steps of the grand hallway at Triebschen.  They began playing as Cosima awoke to the delicate sounds of the piece lifting through the bedroom door.  In her diary, she detailed her feelings from that morning.  “As I awoke, my ear caught a sound, which swelled fuller and fuller; no longer could I imagine myself to be dreaming, music was sounding, and such music! When it died away, Richard came into my room... and offered me the score of the symphonic birthday poem.”  (citation omitted)

   The piece stands as a poignant and touching display of Richard’s love for Cosima.  In fact, Richard never intended to make the piece available to the public, intending for it to remain a private gift between himself ad Cosima.  It was only during later financial difficulties that Richard was forced to re-score the piece for full orchestra and publish it.  (citation omitted)  This is most fortunate as its beauty has captured the ears of listeners since its publication, to this day remaining the most popular and oft-performed non-operatic piece he wrote.

The Idyll

    The piece, as noted earlier, is decidedly programatic, Wagner himself describing in detail the program.  The first ninety measures of the piece are a lullaby where Cosima “sings of the purity and holiness of the child’s soul.”  (citation omitted)  This section begins with an exposed first violin section playing a piano octave leap from b-natural to b-natural, executing a challenging string crossing which begins the simple yet touching melody and main theme of the piece.  The viola and cellos immediately join the first violins with a descending step-wise counter-melody highlighted with eighth note triplets.  This section is based upon the German lullaby Sleep, Baby, Sleep.  The piece gradually builds upon this theme with layer upon layer added until every instrument other than the trumpet is weaving a complex fabric of sound.

      The character of the piece shifts abruptly at measure 50 as the second clarinet, bassoon, and horns have a sequence of five piano triplets followed by a half note.  This constitutes the first major performance trouble spot since the first note in the first violins, as it is difficult to keep the four musicians in time on the triplets after the flowing tempo of the previous section.  The first violins follow that with a descending major sixth signifying the baby yawning and stretching, followed by another yawn in the cellos and basses, this of a descending minor seventh.  The pattern is then repeated, this time with a minor sixth in the first violins and an astonishing leap of a major thirteenth in the cellos and basses.  The effect is that of peace and tranquility.  The series of trills in the first violins and violas following this phrase beginning at measure 56 indicate that “the boy is now deeply asleep.”  (citation omitted)

   Cosima then “gazes thoughtfully upon her beloved child and dreams about his future.”  (citation omitted)  Measure 140 begins the section where Cosima “thinks of the unknown man who will grow from this boy.”  (citation omitted)  This is marked by a series of arpeggios by the strings which is evocative of the beginning of a dream.  Perhaps Richard intends us to envision Cosima drifting off to sleep along with Siegfried, or perhaps she is only daydreaming as she gazes upon his sleeping form.

    After the arpeggios and four sustained trills, the meter switches to 3/4 at measure 148 signifying “a handsome man in flowering youth.”  (citation omitted)  This is followed by a descending clarinet line at measure 180 expressing Cosima’s delight.  The theme in this section is taken from Siegfried’s theme of glory from the opera Siegfried.  This theme is built upon until measure 259, first sounding in the woodwinds and horns, and later in the strings, then finally building to a crescendo in all of the musicians, save the lone trumpet.  Wagner describes this section in his program notes:

    He is driven to accomplish important deeds. He gains for himself a place among men.  But then comes a moment of contemplation. A nameless desire captures the youth’s heart as he wanders alone (forest sounds and birdsongs and the theme of love and unity from Siegfried).  Passion awakens in him, and he feels for the first time soulwearying pains.

    Measure 259 marks another thematic shift, as well as a change in tempo from 3/4 back to 4/4.  The first horn plays a haunting call signifying “the full happiness of his life in love.”  (citation omitted)  This section was likely inspired by Richard’s love for Cosima herself, the loving father naturally wanting the same happiness for his son that he enjoys.  Wagner has also inserted the birdsong from Siegfried in both the clarinet and flute foretelling success.  This theme builds in urgency through the moving lines in the cellos and violins until it resolves in a majestic processional, perhaps intended to evoke images of a wedding or of great success.  This is the moment, at measure 295, that the lone trumpet first enters with its clarion call, at which time it plays for twelve measures before disappearing for the remainder of the piece.

    The significance of this cannot be overlooked and, indeed, it was not, even for that first performance.  The trumpet part was played on that day by Hans Richter, a young hornist from Vienna who was also a resident musician at Triebschen.  (citation omitted)  One story tells of a young Richter, aware of the importance of this tiny part, rowing out to the middle of Lake Lucerne to practice his part out of earshot of the villa.  (citation omitted)  These twelve measures stand in marked contrast to the rest of the piece because of the clarity and tone of the trumpet.  The effect is certainly evocative of accomplishment and pride, both on the part of the young Siegfried and of his mother.  This feeling is also likely a reflection of Wagner’s pride in both his wife and his son.

    After this majestic passage, the mood of the piece returns to one of peace and tranquility as Cosima awakens from her dream and gazes, once again, upon her beloved Siegfried.  Her heart swells with pride and love beginning at measure 334 before returning to the lullaby theme at measure 351.  The birdsong returns as a final harbinger of the future success of young Siegfried, played against a return of the horn’s love theme.

    The piece concludes as it began, with the lullaby heard in the strings, the last voicing of that theme heard in the cellos as the second violins and violas modulate chords around the sustained e-natural in the first violins and basses.  The piece ends with two whole note voicings of an E Major chord in the full orchestra, sans trumpet.  These last two notes symbolize “a final loving kiss from the mother (after which) the future hero rests in the care of God.”  (citation omitted)

Conclusion

    Richard Wagner’s life was one of turmoil, mystery, drama, intrigue, and great passion.  His supporters consider him one of the most gifted composers of all time.  His detractors condemn him for his poor moral character, his very public anti-semitism, and his poor treatment and betrayals of even his closest friends.  Regardless of one’s opinions of Wagner and his music, it is clear that he was a very intense and driven individual, and that character is abundantly clear in his operatic works.  Perhaps that is why the Siegfried Idyll so captures the imagination of the world even to this day.

    It stands as a marked, and hauntingly beautiful, contrast to the public life of this man.  In fact, there seems ample evidence to believe that his love for Cosima, the inspiration for this piece, acted as something of a transitory event for Richard.  While it could not erase years of misdeeds, bigotry, and betrayals, it certainly exposed a new side of Wagner.  A side which he laid bare in the Siegfried Idyll.  Perhaps it is fortunate that he never intended to publish the work, for it lends itself to a vulnerability and honesty that seems very unWagnerian, giving us insight into the Wagner that few knew.

    In a life fit for a Wagnerian opera, Richard Wagner revolutionized the world of opera with his music, his showmanship, and his fascinating life.  His successes, tempered with his failures, make for compelling drama.  And right in the middle of it all, we are provided with this musical treasure, in some ways, the greatest of all of Wagner’s creations.  This calm amidst the storm.  This tribute to beloved wife and cherished son.

    This Siegfried Idyll.

Ordo Virtutum - Program Notes

Ordo Virtutum

Hildegard von Bingen
b. c.1098
d. September 17, 1179

First performed circa 1152

Ordo Virtutum (latin for Order of the Virtues) is one of the earliest extant examples of a liturgical drama.  Liturgical dramas are morality plays set to music and were precursors to opera and, ultimately, modern-day musicals.  Ordo Virtutum is significant not only because of its standing as one of the earliest of these morality plays, but also because it was written by a woman.

Hildegard von Bingen was a remarkable figure, both in general history and in the world of music.  Born to noble parents in 1098, she entered religious service at the age of eight after claiming to see visions.  She was initially educated by the abbess Jutta of Spanheim, but rose to the position of abbess of the Benedictine Abbey of Disibodenberg upon Jutta’s death.  It is then that von Bingen made her most significant musical contributions.

While not much is known about the music of von Bingen’s time due to the limited number of preserved works, approximately 80 of her compositions are still in existence.  Ordo Virtutum is one of the most well known and oft-performed of those pieces.

Composed in monophony, which is a form of chant containing only one melodic line and no harmony, Ordo Virtutum is one of the first examples of a liturgical work which tells a story and has characters.  Previously, chant was used primarily during church services and was a medium of prayer.  Ordo Virtutum stands as a dramatic leap in the development of the liturgy, as well as Western musical development.

Ordo Virtutum tells the story of the struggle of the human soul between the Devil and the 16 Virtues.  There are twenty singing roles, female voices representing the Soul and the Virtues.  The Devil, by contrast, has only a speaking role.  The drama is intended to teach lessons about piety and virtuous living through a life of devotion to the Lord.

Math & Music: Birds of a Feather, Proof of the Divine?

Did you know that the frequency of the ending pitch of an octave is exactly double that of the starting pitch?

Maybe that doesn't seem at all strange to you, but it does to me.  I'm no math whiz, and I'm sure math people would be able to explain it to me if I cared to listen, but it just seems too big a coincidence to me.  After all, think about what frequency is.  Frequency in sound is the number of times a wave repeats itself over a certain period of time (per second).

 

In this diagram, we see examples of four different frequencies.  The numbers below are intended to indicate seconds.  At 110 HZ, there are 1.1 waves for every second.  At 220 HZ, there are 2.2, and so on.

The point of this rudimentary science lesson is to draw attention to the beauty of the relationship between math, science, and music.

Why does doubling a frequency lead to a perfect octave?  Why not a perfect fifth?  Or a tritone?  Or two octaves?  Why doesn't an octave equate to an exact number, rather than a ratio between frequencies?  What I mean by that is why isn't an octave, for example, 200 HZ, no matter where in the spectrum it is found?  If your starting pitch is 440 HZ, an octave higher is 880 HZ, while an octave lower is only 220 HZ.  An octave below that would only be 110 HZ.  So octaves are a proportionate measure, rather than a fixed measure.

That having been said, it would make sense that one could calculate the frequencies of any pitch between two given octaves by knowing the starting point of one end of the spectrum, doubling or halving it to find the pitch an octave away, then dividing the difference between the two by twelve (the number of pitches from one octave to the next).

Okay, this is starting to get a little bit beyond me.  I'm not nearly smart enough to figure all of this out, and since my interest is not in acoustics, but more philosophy, it really doesn't matter.

What matters is that there are so many different ways frequencies could have worked out, why this?

Forget about that, for a moment.  Many people say that creativity and art is a very wild, dynamic thing.  If that is the case, then why is music so precise?  Frequencies share common ratios.  Music is broken up into mathematically precise beats and measures.  There is a certain scientific and mathematic perfection existing in every piece of music, work of art, or dance.  Heck, even writing abides by certain steadfast rules and conventions.

Math and science occur in nature.  The atomic weight of potasium, the circumference of a circle, the mass of an object, the measure of speed.  These things are often considered far removed from the wild, emotional, passionate art of creating music.  Many musicians avoid science and math like the plague, acknowledging a loose relation, but refusing to cop to anything deeper than that.  Music is beauty, emotion, passion, and intensity.  Math and science are cold, calculated, and methodical.

But if we say that, are we not embracing the other half of our true selves?  After all, the relation between creation and science is simply too strong to ignore.

Too coincidental, as well.

How is it that music can be so strongly correlated to math by mere chance?  How could this have happened by mere coincidence?

Perhaps there is some higher power acting as architect for the Universe.  Call it what you will, but perhaps there is a God who has created a grand design of the world, and music was a part of it.

Who knows?  Maybe the God that created our world was just a little lazy and uncreative Himself and couldn't be bothered to come up with a different system for everything He created, so he applied the same template to many things, which is why so many things overlap.  Or maybe He was brilliant beyond all reckoning and these similarities are like pieces of a puzzle He left behind for us to put together to discover more about ourselves.

Maybe the true realization of ourselves will only come when we are able to fully embrace the true depth and breadth of our total humanity, which includes both art and science.  Maybe the key to understanding humanity's purpose on Earth is to be found in music and the sciences.  Maybe musicians and mathematicians alike are all touched by, and touching, the divine every time they practice their craft.

Regardless of how vociferously they deny it.

Or maybe it really is all just a huge coincidence.

Yeah.  Right...