Sunday, March 20, 2016

The Rise of the Sparrow


The Rise of the Sparrow


Calypsos have been pushing the status quo since they were performing in small tents for select crowds.  Since then, their popularity and eagerness to call out social scandals have only grown.  They have a deep understanding of text and language that allows them to create an interesting commentary on daily life that listeners crave.  Calypsos used the unrest that was brewing within the middle and lower classes to create this style of music that fed the fire of uneasiness towards the government and told the people of Trinidad exactly what they wanted to hear, but were too meek to say.
Julian Whiterose, one of the first singers to define Calypsonian music, began his career as a chantwell.  Chantwells were carnival band leaders that performed in small tents during the carnival season.  Whiterose was one of the first Chantwells to take his performance to the street (that would later become known as a “road march”) and change his style into what would become a new genre all together.  He quickly became know as the “Iron Duke in the Land” and sang of how he was both an artist and a warrior.  Julian set the precedent for future Calypsos by giving himself a stage name and identifying himself as a performer separately from the band he performed with.  Following in the Iron Duke’s footsteps (and quickly surpassing him in popularity) was The Lord Kitchener who became such a good road march performer that he became known as the “Grandmaster”.  His six decade long career set a high bar for future Calypsos to meet.
In the 1950’s Calypsonian music had finally begun to solidify itself as a genre of music when a Calypso called the Mighty Sparrow came along and used the combination of serious commentary with humor to cover topics from smut to politics.  The Mighty Sparrow had such a unique style and feel about him that had not yet been seen in a Calypso, he was constantly praised for his rich and nuanced singing voice.
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Mighty Sparrow                                                 Lord Kitchener
As you can tell by the pictures, The Mighty Sparrow had a vastly different style than the Lord Kitchener who was hailed as one of the best performers of his time.  The Mighty Sparrow won both the Calypso King and the Road March (two Calypsonian awards) titles with on song in 1956.  This was an outstanding feat because in the past Calypsos had separate songs for road marches and for performing in a tent, but The Mighty Sparrow managed to create one song that was a favorite all around.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjcoM6wJR4I - The Mighty Sparrow “Jean and Dinah”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9vYKwkDmqo - The Lord Kitchener “Sugar Bum Bum”
The differences in these two songs may not be blatantly obvious, but they are very substantial.  Notice that Lord Kitchener features his band far more than The Mighty Sparrow and relies much less on the text.  The Mighty Sparrow prides himself in his sarcastic rhetoric and wit, his songs feature him singing almost the entire time to show off his ability to use language and irony to get his message across.
The Mighty Sparrow revolutionized Calypsonian music.  He sang about social issues that past performers wouldn’t and put on an enjoyable show while he did it.  This genre of music began to fall out of touch with the younger crowd, but it was The Mighty Sparrow and other performers that followed him that brought life back into the genre.  Women began to become Calypsos after the Mighty Sparrow came into the picture and were very successful performers as well.  Calypsonian music, unlike a lot of music, is a genre that has not died with the generation that made it popular.  The music evolves and adapts with the culture that it is a part of, Calypsos continue to be major progressive social figures in Trinidadian culture today.  This style of music is just as relevant as it was in the 1930’s and will continue to grow with and for the people.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Music for the Moment

We often focus on differences between cultural music, but striking similarities can be found between seemingly polar opposite cultures in the ways in which they use musical structure. This week, we chose to focus on the similarities between the Indonesian Dalag music that Bonnie Wade discusses and the use of musical themes to tell a story in Western art music .


Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherezade is based on the Arabian Nights stories, focusing on Scheherezade, Shayar, the Kalendar prince, a prince and princess, and often Sinbad and his ship. The nuances and details of each story do not necessarily matter in the context of structure, but rather the overarching themes that occur for each well known character and big event. In terms of dalang music, there are already similarities. Bonnie Wade notes that “In any given performance, the plot is usually not the main focus. Rather, the elaborations, digressions, and manner of execution of well-known stories take precedence” (146). Rimsky-Korsakov may not be telling stories exactly as they match up with text, but it is the concepts and big ideas of these stories that take center stage.


Scheherazade's theme is primarily harp and violin it is seductive yet mysterious much like the women herself. Her theme makes its mark in three of the four movements, either near opening or closing of the movement. The Sharyar theme is appropriately contrasting: heavy and brassy. With each entrance of the Sharyar theme, his dark mood makes its mark.




This is the very beginning of the entire work, and Shahryar theme opens. Listen past the one minute mark to hear Scheherazade's theme played by the concertmaster. It makes sense that these two themes would open the work; Scheherazade and the Shayar are the reason the rest of the stories exist. As this movement progresses you would hear these two themes take on different roles, notably the Sharyar taking on the role of Sinbad the sailor.




There is a great deal of material to uncover in the third movement, but focus on this section where Scheherezade’s theme comes back. You would have just heard the story of the prince and the princess, and her theme comes cascading back into the forefront to remind us of the overarching story.




(I have started before the theme returns for context).

Dalang music is also responsible for setting the mood of a story. “Battle music, walking music, [and] meditating music” are used to convey the part of the story taking place (146).




Consider how this music fits the actions of the puppets in terms of lightheartedness and a sense of joy, while this next scene is more dramatic in music and appearence:




Music to accompany or invoke imagery can also be found in music that is not often thought of as programmatic (because programmatic music is a concept developed in the romantic era) but contain motifs or moments of vivid imagery. Consider Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, four concertos for violin and orchestra each meant to accompany snippets of poem about each season.


In Summer, the opening theme which occurs later on is meant to be symbolic of sweltering heat. After this, there is text in the score that suggests a cuckoo is singing as the violin begins a rapid but light sixteenth note passage.



The third movement portrays a summer storm complete with thunder and lightning. This is quickly evident with the opening theme in g minor that crashes in and out of silence.




Hannah Gorham: Writing
Brian: Media

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Complicated Consonance


Exploring consonance and dissonance can prove to be a difficult task. It is easy to jump to conclusions about these terms and assign them definitions based on what our Western trained ears tell us. Outside of the Western tradition, however, it is not easy to define dissonance and consonance in a way that satisfies all cultures. Britannica says the two terms refer to, “the impression of stability and repose (consonance) in relation to the impression of tension or clash (dissonance) experienced by a listener when certain combinations of tones or notes are sounded together”.
In The Craft of Musical Composition composer Paul Hindemith argues that we have not made any progress in trying to define these terms because "the two concepts have never been completely explained, and for a thousand years the definitions have varied" (Hindemith 92).
Even a definition this vague leaves questions to be answered. Who is allowed to say a certain interval has characteristics of dissonance when the exact same interval is used somewhere else to sound consonant? Perhaps the best way to explore this concept is through listening.

Take, for example, a Bulgarian Women’s Choir. These ensembles are known for their use of drone sounds which often result in a major second interval (something that sounds dissonant in the western context). In this context, however, the singers so often find themselves at this interval that it takes on the role of a “home” interval.


The intervals we consider dissonant in this video are not used in the same way we expect. While the ear expects a quick resolution from such a tense sound, the women take their time on such chords. Often they do not even “resolve” in the way we want them to, but continue to meander through other chords and return to occasional unison moments.

Consider this use of the major second with the major second we are used to. An easy and familiar example can be found in the children’s piano song “chopsticks”. As we begin hearing this close interval, our ears rejoice at the third that follows for it finally brings some consonance.





In this performance the ensemble displays classic Japanese Gagaku music.  

Throughout the piece we hear a Major 2nd almost consistently between the separate parts.  As Westerners, we hear tension in the sound, but this music is often played at celebrations and meant to be danced to.  While someone from Japan may not describe this interval as “consonant” they certainly would not say there is tension in the sound.  The tension we hear in dissonant intervals is completely arbitrary and stems from what our ears are used to hearing.

To close, let’s go back to what is familiar to us and see how it connects with these concepts. It is interesting to note that even Western art music has fluctuated over centuries in what is considered dissonance, consonance, and general tension and release. The folk music of the Medieval era employs a great deal of perfect intervals, creating a rather harsh and cold sounding harmony.



I am almost reminiscent of the Bulgarian singers after hearing this. Perhaps it is due to the lowest line very rarely moving, creating a lot of short drones below the moving melody (in a great deal of parallel fourths).

Compare this to the vocal music of the Renaissance, which warmed up harmonies through the use of thirds and sixths; intervals like fourths had to be resolved almost immediately.



In his prime, Bach solidified the concepts behind four-part harmony. Consonance and dissonance seem to come naturally, given these rules for voicing and harmony, and our human need for tension and resolution is satisfied.



Bach seems to take the best of both worlds in his harmonizing; nothing is as cold and rigid as it was in the renaissance, nor is there an endless stream of thirds and sixths melting into one another.

All this is to say that consonance and dissonance are extremely hard concepts to tackle in the realm of cultural music. We long for an answer, though it is fair to say there is not just one. Hindemith was right in saying these have never been defined, and we are right to assume this is because it is constantly changing.

Hannah: Writing and Media
Brian: Writing and Media